Girls on Beer

I have to admit that as much as I’d love to be that easygoing laid back, fun lovin’, beer drinkin’ chick, it just ain’t gonna happen. I am always found drinking wine when I go to a bar. It’s not that I haven’t tried to love beer. I have tried my best. But, I make all these connections to beer that I can’t seem to extinguish from my obsessive brain.

First, as soon as I see the bottle, I feel like if I drink directly from it that I am going to be sitting in the bar looking like I am giving head. I suppose I could pour it into a glass, but apparently I can’t stop making blow job associations. One tip of the beer into a supporting glass and the white creamy froth once again makes me envision another kind of fluid.

Second, though I’d love to be that girl who never thinks (i.e. worries) about her weight, I can’t help but focus upon the fact that not only is beer fattening, but also it is high on carbs. I don’t think drinking beer in a bar all night which will just reflect itself in my thighs and stomach eventually is worth it.

I am sorry. I know these attitudes are not very cool. If I could, I would replace my brain with a beer lovin’ machine, but I just can’t. And, to be honest with you, even if I could get past all the mental associations I make with this beverage, well there is the taste that I have never seemed to be down with. I have tried light beer, dark ale, cherry flavoured and nothing seems to work. To me, it sort of tastes like carbonated urine. (No, I have not tasted urine.)

The most ridiculously ironic thing, though, is that I am turned on by a guy who drinks beer. I love watching a man decide which beer he is going to order and I am captivated by his loyalty to whichever brand he drinks. It seems to be the only time men don’t have commitment issues. I am turned off by a man who always has to order a martini or, the very worst choice…a sugary form of vodka cooler…that is not a man’s drink. Beer is manly. Beer is designed for men. A beer man knows when to throw me down on a bed and take control. He can lick it off my midriff, put me in the shower and wash my hair with it, but I am sorry to say that beer is just not going to be my personal drinkin’ partner.

If I manage to go through hypnosis in order to quit smoking and I can replace that disgusting (but, oh so delicious) habit with drinking beer instead, I promise to try my hand at being a beer drinker. But, if I drink as much of it as I smoke, well then the only thing I’d be doing connected to beer beyond a certain point is relaying tales of my former beer drinking days at AA meetings.

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