Congratulations on Creeping Out Those Ladies!

When you slide down the bar and rest your hand on her shoulder you'll feel her tense, as if she plans to slip away.

"Hey pretty mama," you'll murmur in her ear.  "You ever had sex with me before?"

She'll freeze at that bit, at just how brazen and artless it is.  Motion will return to her as her muscles begin to twitch involuntarily.  A sound, halfway between moan and shriek, will escape her mouth.

"Nnnnguhhh," she'll manage.  The bartender will take that as his cue, bringing down an empty wine bottle on your head.  The glass won't shatter, the way sugar or candy glass does in movies.  Instead the bottle will clunk on your skull dully, sending a reverberating pain through your head.  Through the haze of your dimmed awareness you'll barely even notice the sensation of movement as the bouncers grab you and begin to carry you out.  You'll barely even be aware of the fact that you have, in fact, not succeeded at picking up ladies with your sweet ass pickup moves.

But you will be keenly aware that the bartender, the one that hit you over the head with the bottle, is a very pretty lady who will be wearing a very eye catching red tank top.  So as you are dragged out of the bar, you'll shout at her.

"Hey!  Lady in red!  Don't be a stranger!"

Her response, an expression blending surprise, disgust, and puzzlement, will leave you feeling comfortable.  In a sense, it's exactly what you expected and your action, your line, your tone, your facial expression, will have all been almost reflexive.  You'll feel as if your body expected her disgusted look, and your brain, flooded with dopamine in response to the expected action, will thus not register the pain of being thrown on the pavement quite as distinctly as it otherwise would have.

Congratulations on Creeping Out Those Ladies!