I don’t do “dirty Shirleys,” “VWLs” or “whatevers free.” I prefer my liquor poured in a glass with, or without, a single ice cube. I also prefer that liquor to be of the whiskey or scotch variety that can be found in your father’s liquor cabinet. I love the bewildered look in the bartender’s eye when I ask for a double on the rocks, or neat depending on how my day went. What can I say? I am my father’s daughter.
I have emasculated potential male suitors numerous times as they order some froo-froo cocktail (complete with a fruit garnish) and I order Johnnie Black on the rocks. I’m beyond thankful when they don’t text me back, because it is much easier than texting any of the following:
- “I didn’t feel a spark.” I was so turned off by your drink of choice I cannot look past it.
- “I’m not ready for a relationship right now.” I cannot identify you as my boyfriend when you’re clutching a pink cocktail in public.
- “Sorry the next few weeks are super busy for me.” I will be too busy finding a man I can drink with.
I want to emphasize that I would never self-identify as a “cool girl.” Absol-fucking-utely not. I possess a total lack of daddy issues (yet another reason I am single perhaps?) that has resulted in a great relationship with my father. My first taste of whiskey was a bottle of Kentucky Gentlemen (shudder) with a ginger ale chaser on a “camping trip” in high school. Of course by camping trip I mean getting smashed in the woods with a group of my horny teenage friends, but that’s neither here nor there.
My love affair with Jack, Jim, Johnnie, and Jameson is the longest running commitment I’ve had with a man. We’ve had our good days and our bad days, but I still love them all just the same. Thus, I won’t ever end it for some guy to make sure I don’t emasculate his pink cocktail drinking ass. I can’t help that I have drink order that a man will never be afraid to order for me and if that makes me weird I completely embrace it.
Note I have nothing against men who don’t like whiskey and prefer vodka, tequila, or gin. It’s what you do with it. The man who asks for a “pomegranate martini” because it sounds “delicious” will always be regarded as more effeminate when compared to a man who asks for anything on the rocks or with a single mixer. I recall my first date with a guy (let’s call him Mike, because his name was Mike) who ordered said pomegranate martini while I went with my usual. The waiter gave me the martini and Mike the whiskey and I burst out laughing. The waiter promptly apologized for the mix-up and said “I’m so sorry I’m used to giving a lady a martini.” Let’s just say my date looked irritated for the duration of the evening and there was no second date. Call it social construct, or me being a high maintenance bitch, but I don’t want a man who drinks lady drinks. It goes against my instinct and my pride.
Anywho, why does any of this matter? It’s simple really. I have zero fear of making a man feel uncomfortable with my drink selection. In fact, I won’t settle until I find the man who pours me a whiskey neat without asking twice..
Nice Move108
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