When we think about beer, we usually think about bars, or places- backyard around a grill and secretly in cars on lunch break at work... (it happens).
And although we do remember the reasons that brought us to drink (whether in celebration or heartbreak among others) we tend to neglect the importance of our drinking buddy.
This is the one person we tend to enjoy drinking with moreso than others. Many times this person is more of the reason why we share beers in the first place rather than merely the actual beer.
Let me tell you the story of my drinking buddy.
My drinking buddy is named Melissa. She is 5'1" and has denim blue eyes. A stranger once described her as "the downest bitch on the block." She can be sweet in the subtlest of ways. And I fell deeply in love with her. It was the fall of 2005 and I used to supervise people for a living- I had an employee that I had never talked to much and she kinda always walked to the beat of her own drum, and I let her. She'd pretty much go on break or to the bathroom whenever she wanted and seemed to pass the time without a notice of me- her supervisor.
I had never given the girl much thought because I was always busy and I usually chatted up the girls that would respond to me brightly and quickly. This girl didn't seem to be that type. -I never singled her out or treated her any differently, although she did have more freedom than my other employees simply because I couldn't tell her otherwise- I didn't know her and I must've been standoffish because of it.
A buddy of mine once saw me talking to her- which was the day I finally took the initiative to do so. He told me he could see me going out with her. I didn't think much of the idea, since she simply seemed like a person that didn't care much to fraternize and whatnot amongst co workers and the like.
Things soon changed when she was given a different position still under my supervision. This position rendered her and I too work more closely. And I found myself going to check on her more frequently- and then I'd find odd jobs to do within the vicinity just so I could talk to her more. She would respond dryly and, at times, even dreamily. She would make me laugh and her approach was very nonchalant and yet pretty. She wasn't a ball buster, but she wasn't a doormat either. We'd make fun of customers together or play around to make the time go by quicker. I soon found myself looking forward to my shifts when she'd also be around. I'd even watch her out of my peripheral when she was on break. I was falling in love.
I made an ass out of myself when I finally got the guts to ask her out- although I didn't do it outright.
I left a note for her- and this is what it said- "The cool points are out the window and you've got me all twisted up in the game."
Smooth, right?
Wrong!
She didn't understand it, and in fact wrote a reply of, "who is this?"
I was a smooth operator up until this point- and I had no better resources at my disposal when it came to her.
I eventually spilled my guts to her- online (what a fuckin' nerd).
From then on we exchanged nervous smiles and I knew that this was going to be the most difficult thing ever. Acceptance would've been great- then again rejection would've been equally as satisfying to my mind's curiosity. This girl just smiled at me and I had no idea what would happen next.
We then started hanging out, and one of our early moments involved a children's party of a co worker. We went together, but not before I purchased a twelve pack of Pacifico for myself and an 18 pack of Budlight for Melissa.
We went to the party and talked to people but mostly remained engaged in each other. We consumed a few beers and other drinks and soon left for a mutual friend's house. There we met up with a pair of friends (more co workers).
We continued to drink and on said friend's couch- Melissa turned to me and kissed me our first kiss. She missed my mouth. And I WAS IN LOVE.
Soon after that we became official and enjoyed a pleasantly long honeymoon period. We were only days old when I met my birth mother on her deathbed where she subsequently died- and I always felt uneasy about the whole thing. I was scared the rush of emotions brought by my mother's death would affect our relationship. However, I loved her even more for being brave enough to meet my family for the first time as a new girlfriend under such crappy circumstances at the services for my dead mother.
Life went on, and when we consummated our relationship sexually I was dumbfounded. Up until this point I had been a man whore. And Melissa was still young and not a whore. This was a big step for both of us, but I figured moreso for her.
I WAS WRONG.
After all was said and done, I lain in bed close to crying (despite having been a confirmed man whore). What happened next is a matter of debate between her and I. But I swear I remember her getting up, scratching her ass and going to the kitchen.
All I wanted to do was cry and be held. (can you believe that shit?)
She came back to the room with a beer in her hand and offered me one as well...
NONCHALANTLY!!!! I had met my match at this point...and I certainly had decided I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her at that moment.
The following was a series of events like any other relationship with ups and downs, but my fondest memories of us usually included beer, and yet at the same time some of the worst memories also involved beer.
She took me to Stone Brewing for my birthday.
We went back on Valentine's day to celebrate our love there.
She's my designated driver- and I was an extra set of eyeballs when the trips became treacherous as we were both a little intoxicated, at times.
I've shared so many great beers with her- some beers great- some beers simply in great places. I've spilled my heart to her over a pint, and I've shed tears to her just as quickly. She has been my reason for drinking here and there. But I love her still.
What I am telling you guys is this- thank your drinking buddy. Make sure they know how much spending time with them really means. It's important. It can be a six pack on the beach at night, or it can be at a concession stand at the big game. It doesn't matter, just toast one for your drinking pal- and if you're lucky this person might as well be the love of your life too.
I know mine is. And all I could ever hope for is that my glass always remain as full as the amount of love in my heart for her. Even though I don't know when my last pint is to be had- I swear I hope it's the pint I get to share with her.
Cheers my drinking buddy and my best friend- Cheers to you, sweet Melissa.
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