The Dud

When I was on the prowl on Valentine's Day, I spotted a chiseled, dark-haired, button-up wearing "hottie" from across the room. Utilizing years of magazine pick-up tips, I flashed my best smile and coyly turned back to my drink. He flashed 10,000 watts of pearly whites right back and approached me. My studying was paying off.

Or not.

So "Casey" (his name should have been a giveaway for what was to come) and I began chatting, and he asked me what I was drinking... and why it was half full. We began dancing and he told me that I couldn't. Thanks, guy. For some reason, despite my two left feet, "Casey" continued dancing with me and pestering me about my drink. Finally I got fed up and told him he could have it if he bought me another. I thought this was a reasonable compromise. "Casey", apparently, did not. We danced for a bit longer and when conversation pretty much stopped (and I was thirsty) I ran off to the bar. "Casey" followed and asked what I wanted and I assumed that he'd ordered. I turned around and he was staring at me looking utterly clueless and claiming he ordered but the bartender for some odd reason had forgotten to give him our drinks. Nice try, "Casey". I ordered my own drink, paid for it, and ran for the other side of the bar.

What a dud.

Is it so much to ask for a replacement beverage, even if just out of common courtesy?