A dear friend of mine concludes her story about how she came to realize and accept her attraction to other women by pointing out that this occurred long after her graduation from an all-girl's school. Or, as she puts it: "What a waste."I feel that way about beer.
In this spirit, I quote the immortal words of Homer Simpson, who once said,
"I like my beer cold, my TV loud, and my homosexuals flaming."
I went to a college at which beer was literally cheaper than water. In fact, William Faulkner wrote that,
"At Harvard they teach you how to go for a swim at night without knowing how to swim, and at Sewanee they don't even teach you what water is."
... but I didn't like beer. In the years after school, many of my closest friends tried their best to intervene on the side of beer (I was a cider, bourbon and wine drinker - no, not at the same time), but I still couldn't make my mouth cross over. For reasons lost to the ages, I never tried to develop a taste for beer until the summer of 2006, at which time I undertook a very intentional training exercise in Bali, Indonesia. Over the duration of that trip, I had one beer a day for several weeks (well, it was one beer a day until the idea caught on, and then it was... more than one) and came home with the love. Now, I get it. At present, my beers of choice are Blue Moon, Bass, Harp, and many of the Mexican beers. Certainly, there are dangers to this love affair, but I mourn all those wasted years...
