Newcastle Brown Ale, apparently, has to be drunk from a half pint glass. According to DP, at any rate. I don't drink it, thanks to a post 18th birthday party experience of trying it at about 5am, so I still associate with the pukefest that followed.
I do, however, order pints of sheepdip if I want a proper drink. Or a goldfish bowl of gin if it's been a particularly hard few days at work and I've met DP in the pub afterwards. Most of the time, though, I like having wanky fizzy drinks, like Rose Lemonade or Elderflower.
The only people who have ever got all 'That's not a woman's drink' at me have been very Working Class and Proud - as in the stereotypical never touching Foreign Muck (like garlic, pasta, vegetables not boiled for a week with bicarb, meat any less done than burned to a crisp), microwave ovens are the work of the devil (so wife must prepare everything from scratch daily), women only go into pubs when their husbands take them, get dressed up and then sit in the corner with the other womenfolk, etc.
Not so many of them around these days - although my job has changed, which might be something to do with it - and if I'm in a pub, it tends to be in the arse end of nowhere, where nobody gives a shiny shite about what you're drinking as long as you've kicked the majority of the horse or sheepshit off your boots before you've walked in.