It’s My Relationship and I Can Cry if I Want To

broken heart stalker
I think about you all the time.

I can’t shake it from my head … I wonder about who you’re with, what you’re wearing. I can picture you in that flashy, new negligee I bought you. You haven’t seen it yet, but it’s sitting safely in a cupboard at home.

I’ve got a spot for you right next to it.

It’s not like I’m utterly consumed by you. It’s kind of the other way around. HA. It’s more like I enjoy “intense research.” You know what I mean? Of course you do. You understand me so well, sometimes I like to think you were made just for me.

It’s probably true, you know. We share so many friends. They talk about you almost as much as I do. But I don’t know if they’re as committed to you as I am. For others, you’re du jour, a fad. They’ll pay attention to you for a while, but I know that what we have will last FOREVER.

I get emails about you every day. Well, they’re email alerts, but it still makes me feel like we’re close. I love it when they ping my inbox overnight. I get so excited to see them – and read about you – when I first wake up. But you can’t actually email me, can you? Gosh, that would be so GREAT. It makes me jealous that so many other people get to spend so much more time with you than I do.

Have you seen any of my recent posts? They’re all about you. I think they can be kind of wordy and nerdy, but to you, they probably read like poetry. Sometimes I blush at how rhythmic it all feels, thoughts and words flowing in waves from my brain to my fingertips to a keyboard. You’re the perfect muse – inspiring me as I type away. I could STARE AT YOU FOR HOURS.

I love talking about you, even though sometimes you can be ice cold.

I love reading about you, even though people all over enjoy your company without me.

But most of all, I love writing about you, even though you never comment on my posts.

I love you, beer, but sometimes this whole blogging thing makes me feel a little too OBSESSED.

unpaid investigatorThis (intentionally over-the-top) post is part of multiple essays from Mid-Atlantic beer bloggers focusing on how we feel blogging has impacted our relationship with beer. Make sure to check out these posts, too:

+Bryan Roth
“Don’t drink to get drunk. Drink to enjoy life.” — Jack Kerouac

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Why I love beer, a love letter

This is my 100th post on this blog, for which I’ve never truly written an explanation. As a beer lover and homebrewer, I’m a bit of a nut about beer. Although I suppose that’s only half the story.

When I was in high school – like so many others – I drank really bad beer at parties. Warm Keystone, Natural or any other interchangeable brand that tastes like toilet water. I did not care for it one bit.

But I soon had a friend who turned 21 and vowed to change the way I looked at beer. The first brew we shared was a Hoegaarden. I never knew beer could taste good. How novel.

I recently made a confession to my wife, who has put up with my obsession with beer as best as someone who isn’t enthusiastic about the stuff can be. On a flight home to New York from North Carolina in 2008 I had two items with me to ponder and pass the time with – an engagement ring in my coat pocket and a November 2008 issue of the New Yorker with a feature on Sam Calagione and Dogfish Head.

Surprises abound. The Missus didn’t know I was going to propose to her and I didn’t know that reading that New Yorker would change my life. I had been a craft beer fan for some time, but until I read that article, I never knew what brewers could do with beer. I just knew that for a few extra bucks, my time throwing down some cold ones wouldn’t be a cringe-worthy experience.

As others have noted for years, Dogfish’s devotion for pushing the boundaries of what beer could be opened my eyes. This is one of the many lines from that piece that threw me for a loop:

Carlos took the pistol, swivelled it toward the tree, and fired a single shot from five feet away. The bullet struck with a dull thud, then fell harmlessly to the ground.

Sam Calagione was going to use this tree’s wood to create a beer.

On that night in November, I found two of my greatest passions – a lifetime to spend with my wife and an unwavering curiosity toward beer that sometimes borders on annoying. Much like how the relationship between my wife and I will constantly grow and evolve over time, so has my love and understanding of beer. That’s why I write this blog. As Steven D. Hales puts it in Beer and Philosophy: “Beer drives the human condition, even if the human is in no condition to drive.”

Curious to follow me down the rabbit hole? Hit the jump.
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