She has no intention of going home with this guy, until after three whiskey-gingers she starts talking about how bloated she’ll be tomorrow, which somehow doglegs the conversation toward her eating disorder, then her situation with Neil. The Feminist’s attention activates like some motion-sensing light. Though he’s been laughing at everything she says, whether she’s being funny or not, it turns out he’s the kind of guy who’s only fully engaged when she’s talking about her pain, who subtly steers conversations in that direction, because it furnishes an opportunity for him to demonstrate caring, which is not the same as caring. He goes mercifully silent except for Wow and That sounds tough. She is being genuine, knows she’s on some level indulging him and hates it. When a stranger’s pool cue comes too close to her face she slaps it to the floor.