Some men don’t take female craft beer enthusiasts seriously assuming our beer expertise is limited or that we don’t enjoy drinking it. And they’re right! I’m not into craft beer at all… I’m just here for the dick.
When I order craft beer, what I’m really ordering is the experience of having male customers explain what I’m drinking in a condescending tone. Let’s admit it: I’m just here for some cask-conditioned male attention!
When I’m at a brewfest or a tasting, a dude will love nothing more than to lean over and say, “That one’s brewed with cocoa nibs, you know,” or “That’s a good beer—try to pick up on the roasty undertones.” Those instincts are fine, but just so you know, I’m not here to participate in a popular hobby that I’m knowledgeable about. I’m here for some dry hopped dick and balls, man!
Sometimes I do contribute to the conversation and end up getting congratulated on knowing words like “porter” and “grain.” But then they get suspicious and insert little questions into the conversation to see if I’m legit. But look: I’m not here to prove that I’m some kind of beer expert; I’m just here to reel in the peen by trying to prove to Mike here that I understand the fermentation process behind Belgian lambic. God!
Sometimes I seal the cock-deal by ordering another of “whatever this is.” It’s all worth it to get noticed by a microbrew-drinkin’ guy who’s wearing a mechanic’s shirt but doesn’t actually work in a garage. Hey sexy, come toss me over your shoulder like a big old sack of malt and drive me wild!
If this doesn’t work out, I guess I’ll switch over to Skinnygirl margaritas and get involved in some other hobby that girls only pretend to know something about, like comic books, videogames, or under-the-radar comedy, where the other piles of dick lay waiting for me.
