You’re one of those people whose friends are like, “You’re 33 years old, how the hell have you never tried olives?!” You start to get into new bands right before the “they’re too popular now” backlash. You don’t understand why people are ALL about these pale ales from India when there are plenty of great domestic breweries deserving of support.
This was the first microbrew you drank in college, possibly in the parking lot outside of a Widespread show, and you’ve never turned back. You used to put the bottles you drank on display until your girlfriend put a stop to it. So you broke up with that girlfriend. You’re kind of depressed now, but at least you’ve got all these sweet bottles, right?!? RIGHT?!??
The first thing you look at when purchasing a beer is its ABV. The second thing you look at is the price tag. You have at least once asked a befuddled bartender whether he can put a regular IPA through a hop transducer, and, when he asked what the hell you were talking about, you scoffed at the IPA you’re forced to drink.
Back in the day, you’d camp out in line outside of Ticketmaster to get Phish tickets. You do the same thing at brewpubs when hop season hits, and you frantically try to get the freshest beer from each variety that you can. You use the word “heady” in your everyday vernacular and once traded a bud for a beer at a festival. You saw the second season of Weeds and were mildly impressed with its accuracy.
Extra Special Bitter (ESB)
You love that the ESB is your favorite style more than you love the beer itself. Everyone loves IPAs and stouts, sure, but who else is an unabashed ESB fanatic? You’re special. Your friends know you’re getting the ESB every time. You’re the ESB guy in the crew. It tastes great, and you’ve never had one you didn’t like. You keep meaning to Google what it stands for.
You like to keep things light. You enjoy crisp apples, eaten right off the tree. You have sharp creases in your pants. You took two years of tap, but then quit right as you were getting good. You have the tolerance of a small woman with a shockingly low tolerance.
As a child, you wanted to go to stuntman college. You once put 700 Warheads in your mouth, then had your little brother funnel in some Pop Rocks. Your tastebuds haven’t been able to detect peppers under 50,000 Scoville units anytime in the last seven years.
To you, the act of drinking is more about the shared social connection of being in a bar with friends than taste. You say things like “quantity over quality” and “let’s chug these beers” and “I can’t find my Social Security card.” You own The Hangover Part III
California Common beer
You own an old “Fear the Beard” Brian Wilson shirt that you only wore once in 2010 to a bar you actually hate. You incessantly refer to “the Peninsula”. You tell people you love the car chase scene from Bullitt, even though you’ve never seen the movie.
Low alcohol beer
You can’t believe you moved to Utah.
You aren’t a full-blown Revolutionary War reenactor yet, but give it time, you have the gene. You’re well aware that stouts are actually a type of porter and were initially called “stout porters”. You somehow find a way to bring this up in a casual conversation aboutRizzoli & Isles.
You despise working out and consume pork products with a reckless abandon that says, “Screw you, pigs”. You shave as little as possible. You have covered a dirty plate with aluminum foil in place of washing it on multiple occasions. You take really, really great naps.
Barrel-aged stout (or barrel-aged anything)
You’re typically the first of your friends to try a new restaurant or recommend a new band, because you like that stuff but also because you get a disproportionate amount of satisfaction from having experienced stuff others haven’t. On a related note, you have some really dark sex secrets.
The women you date tend to be attractive, and you travel frequently. You wouldn’t shut the hell up about it the last time you went to Belgium. You post too frequently on Instagram. Your friends do not like you as much as you think they do.
You have been to Europe, at least twice. You enjoy sitting alone in a pub with a notebook and a “drafting” pencil, which you just read about. You claim to have an advanced palate that can detect spices and will argue about flavor notes of a beer with everybody, including the brewer who made it. Corks in bottles kind of turn you on.
You first tried a barleywine because you really dug Lord of the Rings and it sounds like something one might order in a Hobbit tavern. You kept drinking it because the high ABV makes the loneliness go away. You have intimacy issues.
When fall comes around, you’ll just say, “Don’t you just LOVE autumn?” to no one in particular. You have been known to cry at all manner of holiday movies. Even National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. That poor cat!
You don’t like foods on your plate to touch other foods. You make lots of “gotta take my Pils” jokes, because Ted always laughs, but, lately, even Ted has grown tired of it.
You come from Texas, but now live in another place. Like your beer, you value strength and robust character and semi-flashy belt buckles. Your dad owned a truck with a vanity license plate, which seemed out-of-character for him at the time.
You don’t like to mess around. When people tell long-winded stories, you cut them off and say “get to the point”. You even like to wear hats with points. You’ve read the science fiction thriller The Bleak Door and mildly liked it.
You favor biergarten type establishments with large boots of beer, mostly so you can tell people about how, back in 2007, you went to Oktoberfest with your buddy Casey, and you got into some crazy, crazy shit you can’t get into, and you hint at something about feeling up a girl, and your buddy being chased through a town square, and, then, later on in the night, it becomes clear that you were just recounting scenes from the Germany part of National Lampoon’s European Vacation.
Japanese Rice Lager
You often wear a very expensive hoodie that you ordered online from Denmark. All your Facebook friends can see your Spotify playlists, many of which include “mash-ups”. You own a longboard, but you haven’t used it in six years.