You're sat at the bar of some restaurant in the South, when suddenly, you feel a figure behind you, placing something on your head.

A cowboy hat.

His cowboy hat. The man being the man you’ve been eyeing for an hour, constantly stealing glances.

"Saw you lookin' at me, sweetheart.” He says, leaning over your shoulder.

His eyes travel to the hat on your head. "You know the cowboy hat rule, don’t ya?” He asks, a sly smile creeping up his face.