ESB (Extra Special and Bitter)

By LLALAN FOWLER

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I'm a girl who'll take a good beer over almost anything. I could be crawling out of Death Valley, dehydrated, nearing my demise ... I'd still take a refreshing IPA over water, given the choice. And when I say "good" beer, I mean it. Don't even try to hoist some flash-pasteurized, watery, lasts-till-doomsday, domestic dog piss over on me. I want a double, imperial, smoked, oaked, oatmeal mocha ... something. I want a brew that has taste, character and a good head on its shoulders.

Wish I knew more men with those qualities.

The other day a coworker, a dude, got bent out of shape when I started craving a hoppy brew. Why was he undone? I thought it was because the clock hadn't struck four yet. But no, it was because I'm a girl. "I just wouldn't have pegged you for a beer person," he shrugged, tactfully leaving out, "what with your vagina and all."

I know. Girls are NOT supposed to like beer. We are supposed to like cocktails and wine coolers and little dogs that fit in our purses. It's so unexpected when we do like beer that some guys trip over themselves when they meet us mythic creatures. The problem is, when we figments of muddled male imagination come into the light, we are in fact, frightening. Apparently, it's intimidating to meet a woman with advanced taste buds who won't flash the bar after two drinks.

Men in bars—the ones who start talking to me because they think the book I'm reading is just a prop—are often disgustingly pleased with the fact that I have a beer in my hand and not something pink with decorative fruit. The sneer widens when they see it's a stout, nothing "lite." The conversation always begins with, "So what are you drinking?" The "little lady" is implied. It always ends with, "How did you get into beer?"

What they really want is a female version of their best dude. Except in this fantasy, the engineered super-woman doesn't drink High Life or punch holes in the wall when drunk, but instead will both watch the game and give blow jobs on demand. Naturally, they quickly lose interest in me.

Guys, just as I am not a slut when I dress sexy, not a lesbian when I dismiss your clumsy advances and not a prissy-britches just because my shoes match my purse, I'm not a dude in disguise when I pass over the wine menu for the draft list. I know it's hard to handle, guys, but there are lots of us out there who have good boobs and like good beer. It's not just a dude drink.

Ladies: It's not just a dude drink. Forget the expensive, fizzy drinks with made-up names. Forget light, low-carb swill. Show these guys what you're made of. It's not unladylike to know what ESB means.