Look at me, I’m socialising!

I spent Sunday night in one of my favourite Old Man’s pubs in Soho with my friend S, drinking beer and eyeing up bartenders. The short pony-tailed one in particular was to his taste; on our way out, he held his breath and went to introduce himself.
Afterwards he was shaking, so we had to walk into another pub and get him a drink to calm his frazzled nerves.

In the second Old Man’s pub, he recounted this not so-ego-enhancing anecdote: on some night out with friends and a potential date, he got so..impressed with the said potential date that he felt some stirring in his lower regions. He excused himself, stood up, probably just that tiny little bit too close to the table, and knocked over his drink. Without using his hands.
Only the girl noticed; she squealed.
They never went on a date.