I loathe crowded supermarket aisles. Knowing how impatient and irritable I usually get in those circumstances I was dismissed. My marching orders came with strict instructions not to overstep my two beer quota. I opted to have these at the smoking section of Blanco’s sports Grille.
The ladies here have a remarkable memory which is a true testament to their impeccable service. A sweaty frothy beverage somehow transmogrified instantaneously in front of me. I made a mental note to rethink the “Big bang Theory”- not the show but the actual physics theory.
It was while I was slowly dragging on a cancer stick that I overheard (Ok shamelessly eavesdropped) on the conversation at the next table. What I assumed at first to be the usual casual banter that is sports bar fodder morphed into something else; an incredibly insightful, anecdotal yet pithy philosophical discourse.
Whereas my contention has always been that you could always establish the character of a man by the company he keeps and in some cases the football team he supports these women had taken a different tangent.
Gentlemen, apparently you are what you drink. I kid you not. I feared the incredulity plastered on my countenance when I caught on to the crux of the conversation betrayed my intrusion. Gentlemen as paradoxical as this may sound the truth can be a fickle thing! I had heard this same line of thought before.
Unsurprisingly it was at another watering hole, the “Orchid Lounge” another one of my favorite haunts. At the time I dismissed it as materialistic hogwash propagated by superficial women to justify their blatant exploitation of the upper echelons of the male hierarchy unlucky enough to get entrapped in their diabolical contrivances. In hindsight it might have served me well to listen then.
Pretending to fiddle with my phone and grateful I was not a cocker spaniel; I cocked my ears and hunkered down to really listen this time. The linchpin of their reasoning was anecdotal comparisons of the quality of their respective failed relationships. I barely managed to resist the urge to inch closer. They were asking each other questions such as what tipple the most romantic guy they had dated had been partial to. Majority of the time there seemed to be a consensus!
Sadly my phone actually did ring one barely drank beer later. I was being called away to prove my worth by hauling bags into the boot. I reluctantly paid and walked away from what I considered was an intuitive but instructive lesson. I mulled over the information and though it may not be verbatim behold the embellished conclusions.
Tusker: Average Joe. Well in our context “Man Njoro” the man about town. Simple fellow, amiable, responsible and can always be counted on to get the job done; an all round good guy. Ladies like him because he is pliable and willing to please, a little naïve and you probably would have a hard time picking him out of a crowd unless he was donning a white fedora. Just like the beer though he has the character of a plank of wood. It is fair to say if Kalonzo was not saved this would be his beer of choice.
Tusker Malt: Sissy, walkover, sophisticated and fastidious to a fault. He is passive aggressive but has a short fuse especially about things he has clearly said he doesn’t like. He uses coasters, possibly in midlevel or senior management and a control freak. Like the beer, he straddles two worlds not sure where he wants to be or what he is. He is a man yet to find himself. He has not figured out whether he is a larger or a light beer. One thing is for sure though he is onew smooth brother.
Pilsner: In the pub he roars like the lion on the label of his drink of choice. He is the most likely in the pub to walk out when his mum or better half calls. A little too cocksure of himself and easily disliked, he takes himself too seriously and can only fully enjoy himself after the first two drinks. On the plus side he is chivalrous.
Guinness: As strong in character as the frothy stuff he guzzles in copious amounts. He knows what he wants, goes for it and defends what he believes in with a fervor best reserved for the pulpit. He is the quintessential mans’ man or trying very hard to cast himself as such. Quite and reserved though frighteningly articulate even under the influence. There is nothing frivolous or soft about him but he definitely has a soft underbelly. The woman content to bask in his shadow will be content.
Whitecap light: A man who does not drink to get drunk. He is a social drinker and predator in every aspect of his life. He will only make a move when he is sure he will get what he wants. He is cunning to the detriment of all who make the mistake of underestimating him as an opponent in any regard. He would not hesitate to take a fool’s money off his hands or his woman for that matter. His quite disposition bellies his quite strength. Usually an analytical person who sizes up everything and you can take whatever he says to the bank.
Whitecap: Probably a water sign if you are into that sort of thing. Capricious to a fault, no one really knows what he will do next. There are always subjects that he is frothing at the mouth about. An incorrigible purveyor of duplicitous conjecture. He masquerades as an open book but in reality his opacity is doubly obfuscated by the only obvious chink in the amour that he has on all the time. There is never any mystery about him because he wears his emotions on his sleeves. Extremely volatile yet easily pacified. He is incapable of holding a grudge and not easily offended.
Imported beer: With a bottle of Heineken, Stella Artois or Bud dangling by the tip of its long neck, screw top, he has a distinctly distinguished air about him. I am informed that in modern parlance he has swag. No frills straight out predator, he takes no prisoners and makes no apologies for it. Like the pilsner swigging lot it is easy to hate him but he will charm the socks off everyone as he leans nonchalantly at the counter. Modesty is not his strong suit, he is the male equivalent of a diva and he will always land on his feet.
That is as much as I gleaned from that conversation but I wonder now if they were talking exclusively about the men in their age bracket or if all men were fair game. On the most part I concur based on what I see people I know drinking. It is not gospel truth by any stretch of even the most hyperactive of imaginations. It is food for thought though! I personally think it is a combination of not just what but where you drink that counts. Happily my dilemma is geographical…..Ukay or Galleria?