There's really no punchline there, I've just been waiting for the opportunity to use that line.
I was hanging out with my best friend last night at his usual place, and Robert (no, not my ex) and Brandon were tending bar. Robert is a reserve Marine; Brandon an ex-sailor. Both, strangely enough, are straight. In fact, almost all of the bartenders there are; maybe it's just not a gay thing to do.
So I was sitting there nursing a vodka tonic and wondering why it was even darker than normal, and listened to the bartenders swapping war/boat stories, which all seemed to involve alcohol. The jukebox was dead, the "gun" was out (so there was no Coke & no Sprite, and my tonic water tasted funny), and both bathrooms were flooded.
My ex has this theory that I go out on Friday nights and have a rip-roaring fun time.
I'm not going to disabuse him of the notion...