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Crying Over Spilled Beer

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I knew deployment would be tough. But no one told me I’d find myself in my living room crying over a 30-second Sam Adams commercial. That’s just ridiculous, even by my standards. I get why– John’s a beer enthusiast, and he really loves Sam Adams.On one of our first dates, we were hanging out with a bunch of friends at a Blue Band reunion. He had to step outside and asked me to grab him a beer if there was a lull at the bar. “No problem,” I said as coolly and smoothly as I could, not having a clue what kind of beer he’d want to drink. I hate beer. I avoid drinking it at all costs. In fact, in my whole life, I’ve only been able to down one very small glass of green beer. I have regretted it for the last 5 years.I stood at the bar, awkwardly, waiting for a bartender. You can probably guess that I’m not the pushy, showy type, so bartenders rarely notice me. That’s usually because I look like a soda drinker… which, coincidentally, is mostly what I drink at bars anyway.

So there I am, standing, trying to get the bartender’s attention and simultaneously cursing the free enterprise system, hating the entire beer industry, and wishing I were in Communist Russia. Why so many kinds of beers? Why not just one kind of beer? And one of our mutual friends and soon-to-be beer savior, Mark, walked up and before he could say anything, I pounced.

“I have no idea what to order John!”

“What was he drinking?” Mark said. I am not a careful observer of things like that. I knew he had a glass of beer. After seeing the vacant, clueless expression glass over my face, Mark came to the rescue. “Okay, get him a Sam Adams. He likes those.”

So simple.

And I did. Once a random girl called a bartender over because she felt bad for my ineptitude. Seriously, I’m a pretty ignorable, forgettable person, especially in a dark bar. You’d think it’d be the opposite, since I virtually glow in the dark, my skin is so pale.

Probably about an hour or so later, John and I decided that we were way too awesome together to be single anymore. I’m not going to credit the Sam Adams entirely, but it couldn’t have hurt. (Mark–thanks, buddy!)

Back to the commercial: there’s no reason why a Sam Adams spot should make me tear up like I’m watching the Lifetime Network. And yet, I could feel tears burning the corners of my eyes as some guy– I’m assuming Mr. Adams?– plunged into and then exploded from a dunk tank full of beer.

John has got to start liking craft beers with no budgets for media campaigns.

photo credit: Denis Collette…!!! via photopin cc


2 Responses

  1. Visiting from SITS and I thought I’d christen this post by making the first comment. I think it’s sweet that you cried and I would too if my love were away for a long time and something reminded me of him. Sometimes we can hide from our feelings until something triggers them and then, whoa–depending on how long you’ve been holding them in, the dam could break! I think it’s perfectly normal to cry, and I think it’s awesome that you wrote about your vulnerabilities and shared them with your readers. If you don’t dampen your sadness, your joy tends not to be dampened either.

  2. I cry at EVERYTHING nearly. Movie trailers are the worst. It has gotten so that I am proud of my tears and have completely gotten over the concept of worrying and being upset over what other people think of my crying.

    I love Samuel Adams, too, probably because I have a son named Samuel and I love American History.

    I am visiting from SITS today & hopping around your blog. Glad I visited you today! Enjoy!

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