Story Sent in by Tricia:
On our first date, Keith, a 24-year-old, took me out to a bar with a front-facing patio, right on the street. We sat down with our drinks at the table, and not two minutes later, a group of loud frat guys arrived and sat next to us.
They ordered beer after beer, chanted, "Drink! Drink! Drink!" over and over, and overall made it impossible for Keith and I to carry on a conversation.
I shouted to him, over the din, "Want to move?"
He took a few big gulps of his beer, wiped his mouth, and said, "Reminds me of college, woo hoo!"
He stood up, nearly knocking his chair to the ground, left me at the table, and actually joined the frat guys at their merrymaking.
He said, "I bet I can drink any of you bastards under the table!"
They laughed. Some of them shouted, "Drink! Drink! Drink!" and they poured him a beer from a pitcher. He downed it at once, and they refilled it. "Drink! Drink! Drink!"
Did he think I'd be impressed? I watched a couple of minutes of this before I took his arm and said, "Come on, Keith. Let's go."
"Have some beer!" he slurred to me, handing me a full plastic cup, spilling it all over my blouse. He and his new frat buddies laughed. He turned to them and said, "Whoops! Guess I'm not getting any tonight!"
They all laughed again. One or two shouted, "Drink! Drink!" into their suds.
I was sopping wet and had to go. But first, I replied to him, "You're getting something," and upended the nearby beer pitcher, which was only about half-full, onto his head.
I slammed it back on the table and hurried off before I could even see his reaction, although the aghast "Oh!" that went up from his buddies at the table made his likely reaction clear enough.
He didn't follow me, I made it home, cleaned myself up, and went to bed. I wasn't getting any either, that night, but at least I likely went to sleep a bit more satisfied than he did.