Thanks For Asking

Regardless of the company I'm keeping at the time, if the subject of beer should come up, I will invariably declare my love of the aforementioned substance. The more I've done this, the more I've realized that I probably come off as some kind of lush. My emphasis on my Irish heritage and association w/ Guinness doesn't help my cause either. But I can't just stop talking about beer. I feel it's important to let people know that I like beer. I like good beer. And you should too.

In order to successfully defend my position of partaking of the heavenly nectar, I'd like to put this to you in the best context I can: an anecdote.

A month or two back, I was hanging out at a friend's house for a Friday evening of tasty barbecue. It had been a very long day, which had only extended how long my very long week had felt. I was indescribably relieved to be hangin' at his house and enjoying Friday night the way it should be enjoyed. We were kibitzing in his kitchen while we prepared our food, and he off-handedly inquired, "Would you like a beer"?

Never had such sweeter words graced mine ears.

Y'see, beer's not just some depressant I use whenever I want to get schnockered. I don't get drunk as a matter of course. Rather, beer is to me on a Friday evening after a long day's work what soft piano melodies are at dinner for two at a quiet Italian restaurant. Beer is one of the many pieces I like to use to build a relaxing, fun evening. I do not use it to unlock some hidden social potential that only alcohol can release. (If anything, I don't always realize when I'm being an ass). I do not obsessively drink it as part of an unhealthy diet. It is not part of a daily routine. I refuse to drink before noon.

Drinking, partaking - communing w/ beer is the best description for my beer-drinking process. If you've ever seen me crack a Guinness on a "it's-a-good-day-for-a-Guinness" day, you know what I mean: enjoying a beer is a ritual for me. Like hipsters meditating or listening to indie music, politicians raising taxes, or dancers thinking of nothing but where they're gonna' get their next "fix": beer goes hand-in hand with relaxing.

My good, soon-to-be-back-from-Uganda friend Kev described the following scene. I relate it - plus embellishment - for you.

You're sitting out back on the lawn next to a friend. You're both reclining in some form of lawn chair. The sun is setting; the temperature of the air is warm, but cooling mildly; the hot summer day is drifting calmly into a smooth summer evening. In your hand is an ice-cold, utterly-refreshing beer-of-your-choice. Together, you watch the sun set. Maybe you talk. Maybe you don't. It doesn't really matter. It's the camaraderie of that moment - watching the end of a hard day together; silently empathizing with each other - that's the lynch pin.

In my mind, this scene just isn't complete w/o the beer. You...you've just got to have the beer. What else would you have? Water? Milk? Ovaltine? A shot of vodka? No way! Nothing fits that scene like a beer, and you know it.

Those Corona adds (the real ones, not those stupid "find your beach" commercials) were actually onto something. Really, that's all I want. You want to hang? To chat? To come over to my level? You don't even need to have any beer yourself: just sit w/ me and be part of my "ritual".

There's something I find very masculine about beer. (To my female readership, I say this w/o intent to offend. I am not insinuating that to drink beer is to mar your femininity. To you guys who don't prefer beer, more power to you. I'm not sayin' I'm more manly: just that my flavor of manliness identifies well w/ beer). There's nothing quite so manly as a strong, dark, stout beer. Or a light, refreshing beer. Or an amber, rich, flavorful beer. Or whatever beer you fancy. Think about it - what scene seems more fitting: guys sitting around a table drinking beer, or ladies sitting around a table drinking beer? You're right - the guys.

In my own way, I suppose drinking beer's one of the "manly" things I do next to making bad decisions, measuring things, and wearing "the pants".

To those of you who do understand, or to those of you who wish to, remember this story. Remember what it means to me. When you offer me a beer, you're not just giving me a refreshment. You're giving me a good time. Not a drunk time of debauchery. A good time. You're telling me you'd like me to make myself at home; to relax. You're saying "I know how much this means to you, Eric - to have someone offer you a beer. In their home and out of the goodness of their heart."

My hat's off to the you's with beer, and it's even off to the you's w/o it.

Cheers.

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