This Is Constantine Maroulis. He Wishes You Knew That.

Almost immediately a brunette in tight jeans and a low-cut white top approached. He said he had met her at an MTV Video Music Awards party. She seemed especially excited to see him, and as he sat on the back of the couch talking to friends at his right, the woman straddled his left thigh and began grinding it with her arms flailing wildly in the air.

"Don't you want me, baby," she sang along to the '80s song. Maroulis checked his BlackBerry again.

photo: David Yellen

Behold: Constantine Maroulis

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• Michael Hamboussi
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The woman, who identified herself as an anthropologist, was soon holding on to his neck so tightly she appeared to be strangling him. Maroulis does many faces besides his sexy pout, and right now as he looked at his friends he made his scared-goofball face, which is raising one eyebrow and opening his eyes wide in shock. They all laughed, but the woman seemed too drunk and oblivious to care. Eventually Maroulis gave in and slow danced next to the table with her for a while. After talking to several more women throughout the night, Maroulis and Hamboussi left at 4 a.m. Maroulis knocked on the window of the Chrysler to wake up his driver, who was sound asleep.

In the car, Maroulis checked his BlackBerry and said, "That was a mellow night." Hamboussi agreed. Maroulis, whose voice was hoarse from shouting, briefly discussed his troubles with women and said, "What I want is a girl who can party and be brilliant as well." Maroulis saw a black Maserati parked on the street and thought out loud about how great that would be to drive to Hollywood for pilot season in that car.

"Get a fucking Hyundai, man," Hamboussi advised. "Ten-year fucking warranty."