IN MY NAIVE YOUTH, I went to parties for the free alcohol, the food, the networking and the vague hope of finding a woman willing to give it up. I used to—and this is embarrassing to admit—turn down the gift bag. That's right: I'd walk out the door, waving my hand in a superior, negative gesture, somehow hoping that it would make me look cool, that the publicists would think I really cared about them and their event, which was important because they were women with things to give up. Besides, I figured the gift bags were full of Tootsie Rolls,...
To continue reading:
or Log-In
