Bar banter goes wrong

I thought I'd try my hand at a bit of bar banter. I went to Desdens on Vermont, famous as a location in the movie Swingers.

I sat at the bar. This was a scene you always see in the movies. A girl sat alone at the bar, a drink arrives quickly followed by a handsome stranger who saunters over, sharp suit, chiseled features, diamond smile.

That's the dream anyway. What I got was drunk Lance. Sadly for me I didn't spot how drink he was til t was too late.
'Do you mind if I sit here?'
Just like the movies I thought.
'I do mind' I bantered 'I want you to sit as far away as possible' and flashed a winnin smile.
Strong but funny, assertive without being aggressive. Kudos on the flirting Osh, I thought.

He laughed and mimed skulking to the end of the bar. I laughed. Nice

He ordered a bottle of beer and the barman made a passing comment that this clearly wasn't his first of the day. Rude, I thought. Lance and I shared a secretive chuckle. As his breath rushed passed my nose it hit me. Lord God this man is pissed. His breath smelt like a pub carpet. How did I miss this. Now I was stuck with the guy in this near empty bar. And everyone could hear us talking (when I sat us I mean him) because he'd clearly done all his whispering practice on the back of a motorbike.

He showed me his new phone that he'd bought that day. 'I don't get it. It doesn't do what I want'
'What do you want' I politely enquired
'Cell, Internet. I don't know'
We looped round this scintillating topic about 18 times.
Then he showed me a picture of his son (somehow this anti-genius had figured how to take pictures at least) 'Anthony. Isn't he handsome? It's his birthday' he informed me.

It's amazing how one piece of information about someone can make your opinion of them plummet faster than a lift in Towering Inferno. 'Today' I said 'no, wait. Tomorrow.' He corrected himself
Ok, you just pulled your reputation out of the underground parking lot and into the lobby.

He told me that he was out looking for a present for his son. You're not going to find it at the bottom of that bottle of Stella, I thought. "Here son, I got you an 16th of a pint of beer. Happy Birthday". John Terry's dad of the year crown is probably safe for another year. I decided not to unleash my rapier wit on this guy as he was already pretty unsteady on the bar stool.

Instead I took at punt at guessing his son Anthony's age, 'Is he 7?' I ventured.

Lanced gasped, almost theatrically 'how did you know?' he said staring at me like I was some kind of urban witch.
I wish I could say ' because I'm from child protection and this is the excuse we've been waiting for to give Anthony's mother sole custody'

I reminded him he'd show me a picture of young Anthony but SIXTY SECONDS EARLIER.

I'd had enough of this quarter wit. I put my attention on the TV and left it there. Eventually he got the message and zigzagged out of the bar "Good night, lady" He whispered - louder than the TV. After he'd gone and the drunken whispering had followed him out like dry ice, I thought, Hollywood has a lot to answer for. The movies owe me 25 Ryan Gosling's begging for my number in the coolest bar in town.