The more modest Bernard said, "Yes."
"Would you feel compatible with an elephant?"
"Probably not," Bernard said, admitting, "I might get lost all up in there."
Moving on from size, I tell the men about the categories of sexual intensity. The Kama Sutra describes a man of low passion as one "whose desire at the time of sexual union is not great, whose semen is scanty, and who cannot bear the warm embrace of the female. Those who differ from this temperament are called men of middling passion, while those of intense passion are full of desire."
Chip placed himself in the last category: "I got supersperm. Spermwise, I'll tell you a story. My wife was on birth control, and I still got her pregnant." Lucky her.
Bernard said that, compared to the females he brings home, his intensity is low: "I'm between low and middle."
Chip: "It's the other way around for me. I'm more intense."
I asked them about the sexual temperament of the women they've hooked up with.
Bernard responded, "We know some girls that are straight-up like us, who will just go out and drink, hook up, and take 'em home."
Chip said, "Some girls are just like hos."
Bernard said, "Those are the best ones." Then, he espoused this theory that I didn't quite get: "I don't think there's a difference between men and women out here. That's why you always see them in pairs. You ever see the girls around here, in pairs?" According to this logic, my friend and I were hos.
Chip affirmed, "This is one block of evil. This is Sodom and Gomorrah all in 300 feet or whatever. You just got to look around at all these people's faces to know what they're trying to do out here."
So, I asked the single Bernard, "Do you think you're going to hook up tonight?"
He responded: "I don't know. You never can tell. What are you doing tonight?" I thought that the tape recorder in my hand had made it pretty obvious.
We thanked our subjects, drank another kamikaze at Capones -- where it was too loud to interview anyone -- and did a couple of jello shots outside of Tavern 213. Then, around 12:30 p.m., we staggered over to the Voodoo, where more subjects stood in line just waiting to be interviewed.
We talked to two black men, one tall with a spongy high top and one short with cornrows pulled back into a little ponytail.
I tried to warm them up to some Kama Sutra talk by asking, "Is this a good place to hook up?"
Sam, the shorter man, replied, "Yeah. The whole streee-yup. "
Elliot agreed but said, "I want to settle down soon." Then he said to my friend, "I could see my future with you."
Sam started trying to pick me up, saying maybe we could watch a movie together some time.
I told him that I wasn't available, and he said, "This interview is over."
When Elliot asked my friend for her number, I turned to him and asked, "How many numbers do you get a night?"
Elliot responded, "About four."
"How many of them do you call?"
I asked why.
"If I call 'em, all they do is be drunk." Then he turned to my friend and repeated, "I could see my future with you."
She didn't see her future with him, so we grabbed a girl who was walking toward the line at Voodoo and put the spotlight on her sex life.
Beatrice had curly light-brown hair that spiraled around her penetrating eyes. From the intensity of her gaze and the way she pawed at her thighs and shrugged her shoulders, I gathered that she was either high or some kind of free-spirited nymphomaniac.
When I asked her about hooking up at Himmarshee, she said, "I don't think you'll get any valuable information out of me."
"Why?" I asked, "because you haven't hooked up here?"
"I have done it here. Yeah, within a space of, like, five hours. I think everybody does here, but it's not that interesting."
"'Cause I don't think hookups like that are interesting. I've had like some pretty racy experiences coming from here. But they weren't anything momentous. They were just something to do coming from a club. They're not as interesting to me as having really good sex with people that, like, I didn't meet yesterday. I mean, I ended up getting talked into two people at the same time once."
Finding Beatrice's self-proclaimed uninteresting escapades pretty interesting, I asked, "Two guys?"