You should move on, but you don't

Erin Andrews, the goddess of sideline reporters, is indeed here, and looking fine in a slinky blue dress at that.

Seeing as how you're not really surrounded by anyone right now, you make a beeline for Erin, who is laughing and joking with a group of guys, but it appears to be nothing more than friendly banter.

Finally, you make yourself known and introduce yourself to Erin, to which she responds by making a few minutes for you.

"Make it quick John," she tells you, "not that I don't enjoy talking to you, or any other guy, that isn't trying to get me to take my clothes off for them. But I don't have long to stay. I was just about to be going, actually."

Weird, it didn't seem like she was in a hurry to go anywhere, you tell yourself before starting to openly flirt with her, which proves to be a giant misstep on your part.

"So Erin, what are you doing later tonight?" you ask her, not really meaning anything by it (yet), but you quickly learn that Erin is not amused by it.

"Do I look like I'm gonna be your slut tonight John?" she shouts over the music as she storms off, "some of these girls might fall for that. But not me."