Going After You (G.A.Y.)

I was picking up my new glasses after work and I suggested to Sammy we should go for a drink, and we ended up in Water rats. But the bands sounded mediocre and Sammy and I head for Soho.
Last minute, we decide it might be fun to go to a gay bar for one drink before heading home. We see it as a vibrant experience with good music, and fun...
After a body search, we enter and I feel as if I walked into a beautiful dream. Every guy is my type and the ratio of women to men is 5-95.
But I am a diabetic in a chocolate factory, hoping that someone is bisexual.
We have our drink in peace for a while on a terrace (small patch of concrete among the buildings that looks like a prison garden where you get your one hour a day), when this huge, arrogant idiot nudges me, almost knocking me to the ground, and starts the conversation about man bags. Are they cool, what kind?
An hour before I refused Sammy's request for a birthday present, he wanted me to buy him a satchel, and I tell the guy the only bag a man should be seen with is a rucksack. He starts repeating he wears suits and needs to carry gym kit and apples and bananas with him at all times.
Anyway, it soon becomes clear that the plan was this: I, clearly not looking like a lesbian with my long hair and floaty top, was chosen for his straight friend wearing Argentina football top and Sammy, who is, in the arrogant man's words 'too good-looking to be straight' was meant for him.
Sammy goes to get a drink and the arrogant asshole starts questioning how me and Sammy met, if Sammy was gay, what sort of guys he likes...and he takes no shit, I cannot persuade him Sammy is straight, and a leg man at that, he knows better, he can tell Sammy is gay and that is that. And if he doesn't believe it himself (Sammy that is), there is always Rohipnol, in his gorgeous multi-million development in Wapping where he lives (his words), translating loosely 'a dodgy council estate that is being painted by the council'.
He also tells us about his gorgeous boyfriend whom he is marrying in August, an oboe playing corporate lawyer.
This guy is awful, he calls himself muscular, but in reality it would be like me callingf myself athletic. He is arrogant, stupid, an asshole, boasting, insensitive, stereotypical, keen on nudging me like I am some rugby buddy of his and telling me sex is the first thing you like in a person, and it all should start with sex. But the more he is trying to convince everyone of that, and the more I point out to him that everyone is different, more he looks like an idiot. Even his friend is thinking that.
Then he says to me, ok, what is your type. I say that, in fact, 90% of men here are my type. He looks around at cute looking boys of a delicate disposition and says: 'So basically I am the only guy you wouldn't fuck?' I had no heart to tell him that his physical appearance had the least to do with that fact and not being good at lying I kinda shrug and motion yes. He decides that is excruciatingly funny and grabs me, kisses me and I hear my glasses squeaking under his huge face pressed against my cheek and the fear grips me...Thank god it is over in seconds and glasses stay intact.
So what is the first thing you like on a man, he asks, not giving up. Hard bum? I think and I say, sense of humour. He does not believe me, and he looks at Sammy asking the same, thinking Sammy will really tell him and betray me. Sammy says, sense of humour, but at that point Sammy hated the guy so much he would agree with me whatever I said.

The guy realises we have united against him and he loses a bit of his power here. He swaps places with his friend and homes in on Sammy, an easy target.
I talk to a friend, who, by the way, was rather nice.
Every so often I feel Sammy pulling my top or patting me on the side. This usually happens when he sees something that would make us laugh and wants to alert my attention quietly.
The conversation between Sammy and the wanker enters corporate terms. The guy, clearly trying to win Sammy over with his business sense and powerful job, tries to throw couple of vague terms to impress him like project, connections etc...
This is what I love about Sammy. Seeing him in jeans and a cute top, you would think he works for HMV selling CDs, but in fact he is a successful corporate hound that is able to bring down the biggest project manager and create complex programs in HTML and other languages that I don't even know the name of. Sammy starts grilling the guy, questioning every sentence till it comes out the guy works for BT.
By then, the friend and I are talking nicely and I cannot figure what this guy is doing with an asshole like our wanker.
Sammy is now answering every question by the wanker with 'no comment, can we move on to another question' and he is hitting me on the leg so violently that I can feel myself bruising. All of a sudden, Sammy grabs me by the arm and says 'Shall we go?' and drags me away quicker than the speed of light, but not before the huge man shook both of our hands crunching every bone in our fingers.

On the street, Sammy apologises for dragging me away so quickly, saying he had to because he was really suffering and we end up in this cute Lebanese restaurant eating mezze and talking about this guy. I conclude that it would be my worst nightmare being married to the guy like that, I would rather kill myself, copulate with a poisonous snake, be eaten by the rabid monkey...
Sammy says he gets the picture.
His foot gets crushed couple of times by the waiter due to the fact the restaurant is the size of my bathroom and he got bitten by the mosquito and by now the bite is the size of the golf ball, threatening to sabotage his Rex quan do grading on Sunday.

This experience made us think that we need clear guidelines of how to escape this sort of situation in the future with ease and flare. Any suggestions greatly appreciated.