So the other night I met a woman for drinks and after 45 minutes of terse chitchat she got up and walked away. "You know what, I think I'm just going to leave," she said as she looked from me to her empty wine glass and back again. My first clue that things weren't going to go well came when she vetoed my idea of going to a peach-colored yuppie bar to play Stranger Chicken (in which you take turns giving your companion dares to approach strangers and perform goofy tasks—bum a cigarette, grab an ass, convince them you're an astronaut…). Both the bar in question and the activity aren't to everyone's taste, but I thought it would be a fun way to spend a Friday night, whether or not we hit it off. Veto.
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