Of course there is the export. A man drinking a Hoegaarden import draft is sophisticated and yet wonderfully down to earth, since it’s still just a beer. He’s probably made his selection based on ingredients and taste rather than how quickly it’ll get him drunk. He’s deliberate and expects excellence in everything he brings into his life. Quality beer, quality man.
Next we have the whiskey drinkers. I say drinkers because there are two kinds. The connoisseurs, who sip slowly on something straight, and the con-artists, who just want to look like they’re drinking a grown-up beverage. If the bartender’s reaching up high for this man’s drink, you know he’s a tall order. High class, sophisticated.
There’s something sort of endearing about a guy who orders a more affordable brand of scotch and mixes it with ginger ale. It’s kind of like when a little boy follows his dad around the lawn with his Little Tykes mower while dad trims the grass. Just let them pretend. Maybe they’ll get there someday.
For the men who drink wine in a bar, just keep moving. While having a glass or two over dinner is perfectly acceptable, a man drinking wine at a pub is like a woman wearing high heels to the pool. It’s cheesy and no one is buying it.
Then there’s the man who loves himself some bright, sugary cocktail and isn’t afraid to show it. Deep down, I think every man has a sweet tooth that enviously eyes your raspberry mojito as the server slowly lowers it in front of you. But they’re too afraid to drink something that doesn’t need to be held by their entire palm. Boring. The guy who can order up a fresh pina colada or that blue margarita is a fiesta and a half. It takes a real man to sip on a bright pink slushy peppered with paper umbrellas and a massive green straw while surrounded by his beer-slamming, chest-bumping friends. Then you know he’s confident in himself and not afraid to tickle his taste buds with something fruity. Ole!
As for shots, I think of it like this: If he’s buying a round for his table because his team just won the big game, right on. If he’s slamming them back for no other reason than it’s Friday, move on.
Dater Julie chronicles her dating life on her blog, CantHardlyDate.com.