Last Thursday I had a date with two girlfriends at a disco. I was a bit early and they were a little late and so I ended up sitting alone for half an hour nursing a glass of wine. During that half hour I was propositioned by no less than three men who mistakenly assumed I was waiting for them. In other words, they thought I was a Russian prostitute. Please excuse me if I use this column as an opportunity to address my suitors.Dear G--nter from Germany, George from Texas, and Philippe from Switzerland,Don't assume that all unaccompanied women in discos are what you take them to be. And if last Thursday you actually succeeded in getting a woman back to your hotel room, you can rest assured that the attraction lay in your well-padded wallets rather than your scintillating personalities. Your conversation was, I'm sorry to say, slightly soporific. George, you began with the brilliantly original "What's your name?" "Ellen," I answered politely. But when you continued with "What a beautiful Russian name," I had to correct you: "It's not Russian, because I'm not Russian." That shook you. You realized immediately that I wouldn't be interested in your dollars and were suddenly seized by the need to go to the bathroom, happily, never to return.G--nter, your chat-up line was just as creative. "Do you want a drink?" you enquired, despite the fact that I already had a full glass in front of me."No thanks," I replied."Shall we dance?" you persisted. I explained that I was waiting for two friends."That's all right," you said. "I've also got two friends with me. Let's get together and make a fun night of it."I told you that we were all three happily married mothers just planning to enjoy a good night out. "Then it's lucky I found you," you said, "We'd like to dance with some respectable women because we're married men ourselves." When I indicated my disdain by staring blankly at the ceiling, you turned your attention to the girl sitting next to me and asked her if she wanted a drink.And Philippe, you could also use a course in conversational skills. "A bit cold out, eh?" you began. "Yes," I agreed."We don't get so much snow in France.""Oh really?" I replied, feigning astonishment."Fortunately, I've hired a Mercedes for the trip," you bragged. "I'm staying in a suite at the Metropol. Want to know how much it costs?" I said I wasn't interested, but you told me that you were leaving shortly for Paris and that from there you were flying to New York on the Concorde. By that time I was greatly relieved to exchange your company for that of my girlfriends.And so, gentlemen, please try to come up with some more exciting chat-up lines. It seems to me that that would be so much nicer for those women who -- purely for financial reasons, don't kid yourselves -- do take up your invitations.