About a month after I left my ex, I decided to go dancing with some friends and a new gentleman caller. He had a full-time job, a car, manners and heck, he could even dance and not look like a complete tool. So, what made him go from beer hottie to beer nottie? Aside from issuing an unusual level of unwanted physical contact (hint: my best friend now refers to him as The Leg Toucher), the buzzkill came straight from the fridge in the form of 12 fluid ounces.
We were gettin' our dance on and I was ready to make my way over to the bar for something cold. The Leg Toucher, seeing me paw through my purse, intercepted, "I've got it. What do you want?"
Since the music was loud and hard to yell over, I mouthed, "Whatever you get!" and waved him to the bar. With a decent, reasonably-priced beer list 30 feet to my right, I really was not expecting a worse case scenario. This dude crashed the date--and deflated any potential future boners for him--via two bottles: two Miller High Life Lights for both of us. Homeboy seriously drank beers that are usually seen in the manicured hands of cheerleaders.
It never occurred to me that a Miller High Life could even have a lighter counterpart, as I thought it was a beer reserved for suburban barbecue parties at your uncle's house. High Life Light was never in my vocabulary before that evening and, despite my better judgment, I now know that it tastes exactly like seltzer water.
Oh poor Leg Toucher, you never had a chance. I wouldn't have cared that much if you had just said you weren't really into beer, but you failed to even humor me. Your surprising and awkward brew choice, in the newly proclaimed best beer city in America, was not sexy at all. I promptly texted my best friend that my date had managed to water down both the champagne of beers and my interest. Nice work!