"Can I buy you a drink?"
    

"No." I reply stiffly, not bothering to turn and look at the man who has taken up residence behind me.     

"Sure about that?"    

"Positive."    

"What if I told you... I could buy you this whole fucking bar if I wanted to."    

"I'd tell you that I'm not interested in owning a bar."    

"You know... this hard to get shit really isn't a turn on."    

"So, leave."    

"Most girls would have wet themselves if I offered to buy them a drink."    

"Good for them."    

"C'mon girl... you can't really be this much of a cold hearted bitch."    

"Oh ye of little faith." I chuckle and roll my eyes before sliding off of my barstool and forcing myself into the crowd, away from the source of my irritation.     

Why can't men just get the fucking hint sometimes?