Mr. Sam Adams "Stony Brook Red"

If this beer were a man...

...he would saunter up to you as you waited at the bar for your first drink, with an air of arrogant entitlement. He would be armed only with contrite pick up lines, and unfortunately none of them would be as functional as: "Can I buy you a drink." Although even if he had offered to buy you a drink, after about 90 seconds of slimy glances, audacious comments, and three attempts to put his arm around your waist, you would have informed him that you would gladly take the drink, but you had no intention of spending another degrading second in his company once the bartender put that beer in your hand. But alas, he's not buying your drink, so you give him a piece of your mind, using as many four syllable words as possible (hoping there's at least one in there that he cannot define) before you turn and march to the other end of the bar. Had your first interaction with him been closer to last call, while you were at the phase of the evening where everyone is dancing like no one else is watching, the interaction would have looked much different. He would have come on strong on the dance floor, and while his cockiness would still be apparent, at least you wouldn't have to hear him speak. You would dance with him, finding satisfaction in always keeping him at arms length, and smirking each time you squashed his attempts to get close enough to grind against you. As the lights came on and the music faded out, you and your girlfriends would swiftly turn and exit the bar without as much as a wave goodbye, and only then would it dawn on him that he wasn't getting lucky that night.