This happened...oh, about a year or two ago.
The waiter had just brought us drinks. As I sipped a Cosmopolitan, I felt the need to confess something.
I lean in and say, "I have to admit I really did start drinking these when Carrie Bradshaw made them popular."
He says, "Should we say, 'Baaa...'?"
I say, "But, I have an excuse. I was just out of college, at the time, and it was my first grown-up drink."
I explained that that night we were at a former-gay-club-turned-straight. On their Goth Night, no less. True to stereotype, they were the best dance club in town. There was also something that was a novelty for a Lansing bar, a martini list. It was actually one of my friends who got the first Cosmopolitan. I tried a sip of hers and soon, we were drinking them all the time.
He listened and nodded with understanding. Then, he motioned to me and said, "Come closer. I need to tell you something."
So, I did and he whispers, "Your cleavage looks nice, right now."
I protest, "I just bared my soul to you!"
He just innocently shrugs and says, "Well, I had to whisper that. I didn't want every guy in here to casually stroll by to check."
Oh well. What can you do?