Beer, I Miss You


Today was a tough one. Work was mind-numbingly boring, the girl who was going to buy my car bailed, the postman delivered my credit card statement, and some desert-dwelling banshee in a monster truck almost ran me off the freeway. All I have wanted to do since returning home is crack open an ice cold Bud Light and feel the alcoholic deliciousness trickle down my exhausted esophagus. I know I can not have you, and I will not give into your seductive ways, not tonight.

I do give you credit for providing me hours of laughter and entertainment with my best friends and family. I would have never had the courage to belt out a Will Smith tune at my 21st birthday party if it were not for you, and stealing a wheelchair from a guy pretending to be handicapped would have been a lot less enjoyable. I thank you for making me believe I am a good dancer for those few hours I am under your spell and for protecting my pain receptors from horribly embarrassing falls down dorm stairs.

Beer, it is always the same story with you. I think I am just going to have one, but that one goes down so smoothly that I am left feeling empty and craving another. After I have a few more the fog sets in and you leave me unproductive, brain-dead, and hungry. You usually make me first go after the chips, then you move on to something frozen like pizza rolls or buffalo strips, and you leave me with the most dangerous food group of them all, chocolate. Once you have a sufficient amount of food to swim in you always invite the rest of your friends in the fridge to join your party. About an hour after this point, the curtains begin to draw to a close; like a narcoleptic behind the wheel I am taken over my sleepiness. My mind goes blank and I am stonewalled into a coma no matter what the surrounding.

Now is just not our time. I urge you, beer, to reminisce on our glory days and to keep on making others happy with the knowledge that one day I will return to you. I need this time apart to focus on the startup, clear my head, and work on a way for me to say no to your over imbibing taunts. As painful as it is to say, there is just no room for you in my life or budget at present. Know that this is not forever and not a day goes by that I am not reminded of your bitter essence. Please understand and promise to save me episodes of stomach trouble when at last we are finally reunited. Until then, beer, I miss you.

This entry was posted in Startup Relationships, Startup Sacrifices. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Beer, I Miss You

  1. Christina says:

    unrequited love.

  2. Unkle Spike says:

    good news – your good friend Beer is planning on joining us this year at OBX.
    He’s bringing 23 of his closest friends along with him to help you get caught up on old times, too. He might need some help getting to the beach, but said not to worry, he’s just has happy sitting on the deck or by the pool wrapped in his comfy little koozie.

  3. mom says:

    From juice boxes to beer on the beach, time has flown by too fast. Guess Pop Pop will be going to Harris Teeter a few more times this year for the golden brew!!!!!

  4. Big Sis says:

    Not to worry…the fine brew will be flowing again shortly on the East coast. We will all be laughing and playing more rousing games of Trivial Pursuit and the like. See you soon.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>