Happy Hour Golden Shower

Nate was an oddly-styled yet culturally-enlightened marketing professional that I had connected with on Coffee Meets Bagel one afternoon while waiting for the subway to arrive. Coincidently both of our plans for the evening had recently been canceled so we agreed to meet for a beverage shortly after.

I was the first to arrive at the craft brewery on the Upper West Side, and after waiting for 10 minutes, Nate appeared and apologized for the delay on behalf of a stalled B train. He took a seat at the high top table I was occupying directly adjacent to the bar.

Attempting to exercise my feminine energy, I waited for him to mention the possibility of actually purchasing a refreshment from the bartender seeing that there was no table service.

After a slightly awkward 15 minutes of conversing at the table with nothing to consume our awkward silence with, I gave in and said I was going to order myself a drink.

“Oh cool! Why don’t you grab this round and I will grab the next? ” He suggested. “I will do an Johnnie Walker Old Fashioned with a cherry.”

Astonished at his blatant lack of chivalry on our first (and probably last) date, I approached the bar to retrieve my much needed concoction of social lubrication in the form of a St. Feuillien Blonde ale accompanied by Nate’s $18.75 Old Fashioned.

After finishing off the first round of drinks I excused myself to the bathroom. To my dismay, Nate put me on the spot and inquired as to whether or not I was up for round two.

“Sure,” I said….for some reason.

As I returned from the facilities I had every intention of drinking my second beer even more expeditiously than the first and hightailing it back to my apartment to watch Netflix by my lonesome.

Nate returned to the table, and to my disgust, placed a frosted silver bottle in front of me that read the words ‘Coors Light.’

Being the beer snob that I am, this is an absolute revolting abomination to the delicacy that I refer to as beer.

“What is this? I actually don’t drink Coors Light. I find it nauseating,” I said.

“I noticed they had it on the happy hour special so I figured I would take advantage and order us a couple of those! Why not take advantage of a good bargain?” He said boastfully.

Confused as to whether or not I was more repulsed by the thought of drinking rancid piss water Coors Light or Nate’s shamelessly idiotic  behavior I decided I would rather take a silver bullet to the head than withstand either for another minute.

I excused myself to close my tab…

…but not before telling the bartender to put the excessively pricey Old Fashioned on Nate’s bill.

Clearly, the Rockies were the only thing he was tapping that night.

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