Usually when I write I like to try and send some sort of underlying message that I want people to read and absorb in the hopes that it will help them reflect on their own lives. Well, I’m not going to do that today; this post is for me.
About a month ago during a family dinner, we got on the topic of young ladies who drink whiskey after my step-brother told us about his date who ordered Maker’s Mark on the rocks. He commented that there was something intriguing and compelling about the fact that she had ordered a “real drink”, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly why. That’s when I chimed in, “Because little girls don’t drink whiskey.” Bingo.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I love Jameson (I believe I’ve mentioned it in this blog several times as well) on the rocks, neat, or straight out of the bottle. I stick to Jameson (or any other type of whiskey) on the rocks when I’m out at a bar, and what always amuses me is the reaction I typically get when I go to grab my favorite booze. Not only does the bartender usually give me a strange look, but the other patrons typically raise an eyebrow as well. Most women seem to not know what it is, or why I would order it, and men just look kind of baffled. Why do I get these confused yet intrigued looks you wonder? It’s a rare sight. I believe that a strong woman needs a strong drink and it seems to take a more mature pallet to appreciate it. I use the term ‘mature’ loosely seeing as I pushed a child out of the way at an aquarium last weekend so I could pet a sting ray.
However, that’s not the point, the point is this; the whiskey-drinking women that I have encountered seem to have some common denominators. My step-brother mentioned that his date, as well as other female whiskey enthusiasts (a term I like to use to describe myself), knew who she was and knew what she wanted out of life. All of these ladies had goals, were grounded, and generally had a strong sense of self. I am of the belief that you can gather a slight sense of a person based on what they order at a bar. For example, I think it’s safe to say that bleach blonde Barbie who’s as shallow as a puddle will probably not order 2 fingers of Rye Whiskey neat (delicious), she’ll probably go for the Malibu Bay Breeze or something that’s ‘low-calorie’. Perhaps that’s a slightly judgmental of me, but if you ever see one of those in my hand it probably means I have blacked out and you should remove it immediately.
It takes a special and unique type of woman to handle the hard stuff, and I emphasize the word ‘handle’ because sipping on a rock glass of Jameo is quite different than pounding pickle-backs. So, to the ladies who choose to keep their drinks straight and strong I raise my glass to you as we are certainly a rare breed. Stay classy whiskey girls (I use that term loosely as well).