Last night, a drunken guy the same age as my son tried to talk me into bringing him home. I kept putting him off nicely, but he persisted. I finally told him that his approach had all the charm of a dog looking for the nearest fireplug. He then started hitting on the woman next to me, which only proved my point.
The thing is, he’s not a total asshole, just drunk, and there was a time when I might have been flattered. I have a pretty hard and fast rule now: If you don’t have the nerve to actually ask me to go out (when you’re sober), I already know it won’t work out. Maturity! It’s not such a bad thing.