Shot down in flames in the supermarket.
Nondescript middle-aged man in business clothes notices attractive middle aged woman in alligator boots, with her retro leather bag inside her shopping cart. "Nice purse!", enthuses Mr. Hopeful. Scathing tone with withering glance: "Thanks," as in, "Scrape yourself off the bottom of my filthy heel."
Mr. Hopeful seemingly really was hopeful. He shrinks before our eyes, diminishes, shoulders drooping, walks away visibly wounded as the unavailable Missus Boots throws an equally distancing glance at yours truly, passing by chance from the other direction.