The Patron:
The One Who Loves Surprises

“What can I get for you?”

“hmm…”

(I hate you)

“Surprise me!”

“Ha. Alright. Well what kind of drinks do you like? What kind of liquor should I use?”

“I like strong drinks. Anything you want.”

“Okay… I’ve got one you’ll like”

Ice
1/2 ounce rail rum
4 ounces coca cola
splash of lime juice
garnish with lime
stare at the drink with concern
1/4 ounce rail rum on top
add straw

“Here you go.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a Cuba Libre”

“Oooh fancy!”

Pro tip: don’t ask your bartender to surprise you with no direction at all. We will judge you. You’ll probably end up with something weak and expensive. It will probably have a terrible name to mask the fact that it’s really just a rum and coke or a vodka soda.

“somebody should be my girlfriend today.”
“Why?”
“I get so creative! I’d do something awesome and super romantic.”

Later that day, after reading the post, Nick mentioned to me how he finds it amusing that I will write something like that and be so adamantly single. Yes, I am adamantly single. I haven’t been in a relationship in nearly 3 years. I’ve dated, but have not called anybody my girlfriend for over 1000 days. I enjoy my single life. I can be out until 3am on any night I want and not have to answer to anybody. I can flirt while working behind the bar and not fear that she will read into it. I’ve even asked, with legitimate curiosity, why a friend of mine was so eager to find a girlfriend.

“pretty cute idea”
“Thanks”
It’s hilarious to me especially. Because you’re all ‘I don’t want no girlllllfriend’”

The thing about it is… I’m not as against a girlfriend as it would seem to many.

I’ve made some less-than-spectacular choices in who to open up to in the past.I’ve hurt others and I’ve been hurt. Although I like to think that I’ve gotten better at this in the last few years, which is partly why I haven’t let anybody in.  How do I know when to take a chance, though?
I used to be so willing to make leaps of faith for the sake of romance and now I stand guarded and cautious; wary of hurting others and myself.

Maybe soon I’ll figure all that out.

*apparently there have been discussions about whether this letter was open and hypothetical or if I had somebody specific in mind. This is possibly the biggest compliment because it means the post was successful. So thank you.

THE PATRON:
The Underager

“Can we get some drinks?”

“Sure, I just need to see I.D.”

“Wait. Do you gotta be 18 to drink?”

“Um… no. You have to be 21.”

“Really? Can we get somebody who is to get us some drinks?”

“No.”

“Then can we just get some drinks to leave with?”

“No.”

“Well what if we get some food, can we-”

“You have to be 21 to be in here. You need to leave.”

Blank stares.

“Now.”

I’m a big fan of honesty in all aspects of life, so I have to admire their attempt. On the other hand, there is no possible way they don’t know that you have to be 21 to drink and it’s no secret that you’re not allowed to walk out of a bar with a “to go” cup of liquor. Nonetheless, a round of applause for a bold effort.

Pro Tip: If you’re going to try and drink at a bar before you’re 21, get a fake I.D.* and make it good. Just be aware that they’re usually not hard to spot. In fact, you’re probably better off waiting until you’re 21 to hit the bars.

*Fake I.D.s are illegal and I do not condone the purchase or usage of them.

I know that we’re not in a relationship right now. We’re not even dating. Still, I want you to know that I’m thinking about you. You are on my mind more than I, as a happy bachelor, would like to admit. It’s for that reason that I’d like to tell you a story of what I would have done if we were dating.

I would have woken up early and made breakfast, heart-shaped pancakes included. If the smell didn’t wake you up, then I would give you a kiss to get the job done. You would sit down at the table and find a handmade card with a note inside telling you how much I think of you. Then I’d clean up while you got ready for work.

Around mid-day, you would probably get the flowers I sent to your office. Don’t worry, they wouldn’t be roses. Instead I’d send you a small bouquet of your favorites, with one of mine mixed in. The note attached would tell you where to be that evening for dinner.

I would be waiting for you outside. This time there would be a rose, but only one. We would have dinner and then get to the best part: improvisation. That would be the end of my plans, but not my affection. I would give you flowers and cards on days that weren’t Valentine’s day too. I’d remind you how much you mean to me every day.

But we’re not dating, so I can’t do these things for you. Instead I’ll tell you “Happy Valentine’s day” and hope that I make you smile once today. You’re so beautiful when you smile. I hope that you somehow know that I’m thinking about you and that it makes you happy.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Always,
Adam

THE PATRON:
The “Ex-Bartender”

“Do you know what blue curacao is?”

“uh.. yeah” (I’m judging you)

“Can I have a blue margarita? You use the blue curacao instead of triple sec to make it blue.”

“sure” (now I hate you)

“I bartend downtown and this is my favorite drink.”

“I hope I can do it justice.” (here’s a big smile and a laugh to go with the sour mix!)

First of all lady, there’s no way this is your favorite drink. This is nobody’s favorite drink.
Second, why do I care that you’re a bartender? Is it so that you can justify saying “blue curacao instead of triple sec?” Because no bartender I know would ever say that.
Is it so I’ll think “oh WOW! Another bartender! I’ll comp her this drink because she’s in the industry?” That’s not happening. You’re probably not even tipping me… because nobody has ever ordered that drink and tipped.

Pro Tip: Want special treatment from me? Leave a good tip. Or be engaging and at least try and trick me into thinking you’ll leave a good tip (it probably won’t work, but it’s worth a shot).

In it, Reid Hoffman (founder of LinkedIn) mentioned that the proper way to network is not by asking for favors, but by finding people who interest you and discovering ways to present favors to them.

The interesting thing is that this concept applies to all aspects of life: making friends, professional networking, even flirting. Seems obvious enough, but you’d be surprised at how often people will just go through the motions of flirtation, for example, to set up a date with a pretty girl or bring someone back to bed.

Well, when you take genuine interest in someone, you’ll find that you actually want to do them favors. Not because you want anything in return, but because they become important to you. What you’ll see is that when you find yourself flirting with a person simply because you’re absolutely fascinated by them, it feels so much more rewarding to offer a favor and hear a simple “thank you” at the end of the night.

Some time ago I went out for drinks with a few friends. One of these friends, The Diplomat, had a friend who I’d begun to take an interest in. She seemed really cool from stories and I had expressed a desire to bring her into this group.

Sure enough, upon arrival, The Diplomat introduced us to her friend, Brenda.

The group of us sat in our booth talking and drinking, but as time went on I found that I was hanging on everything Brenda said. She was hilarious. She had interesting things to say and a unique, fun view on life. I could go on, but the point is merely that having been interested in meeting Brenda prior to that afternoon and then finally connecting with her was remarkably fulfilling. There were no games. I had no angle or intention of trying to date her, I simply wanted to get to know her for her and to become better friends with her.

As it would happen, afternoon moved into night and she and I were the only ones remaining at the bar when it was time to leave. I told her that I wanted to pick up the tab. Not because I was romantically interested, but because I was thrilled to have spent all that time getting to know somebody so refreshingly awesome.

“I’m really glad I got to meet you. Thank you.”

That’s all she said.

That’s all she needed to say. It was genuine.

I’m sure she’d have said it had I not paid for the drinks, but the fact that she did made me feel really good about doing it. And that’s how networking is done. Or flirting. Or building any kind of meaningful relationship.

I speak whiskey well enough. I would never call myself an expert, but I’ve tried a few and can pick out a mid-tier bottle pretty quickly. When that’s all my step-sister wanted for Christmas I considered myself lucky.

Upon opening the bottle, she and I decided that this year would be Whiskey Tour 2012. It would be a year of trying new whiskeys. Bourbons, scotches, blends; whiskeys of all sorts! This is a daunting task, which is why it takes the entire year. There are countless whiskeys out there. They’re from Kentucky, Tennessee, Canada, Scotland, Ireland, Japan… and they all taste different. Some are light-bodied and others heavy. Some have an aggressive kick to them as they go down and others feel like velvet. Some have a smoky flavor to them while others have a bite of spice or a fresh, almost airy taste.

This begins my chronicle of Whiskey Tour 2012.

Unfortunately, I can’t tell you about some of them that I’ve had so far this year yet, because I need to research what they were. (What I’m telling you is that I drank too many of them one night and didn’t write the names down or take pictures of the bottles.)

Then again, this is just an introduction.

I would like to welcome you to my adventure through whiskey this year. Hopefully we’ll both learn a few things and have some fun with the drink of gentlemen.

I don’t have that issue with height. I’m 6’3 and my perception of my stature only ranges a couple of inches based on if it’s a tall or a short day.

I do, however, have that issue with age.

My sister is 2.5 years older than I am and since she’s been the biggest influence on my life, I’ve been surrounded by her friends since I was 12.

I am 24 while I write this, but often perceive myself as closer to 27 or 28. My age-perception issue is only heightened by the fact that most people think I am older than my sister (based on looks) and speculate that I am between 27-29 (also based on looks).

This doesn’t always come into play… until somebody calls me young.

“You can still drink until 4, you’re young.”
“You’re young, you’re not supposed to know what you want to do with your life.”
“You’re not supposed to have a girlfriend, you’re supposed to be young and date around.”

I hate it.
Even when it’s a joke, I hate it. Especially when the person is within 10 years of me.
It sounds condescending and belittling.

When somebody calls attention to the fact that I’m young (because yes, I’m young) it makes me wonder why it’s significant. You wouldn’t comment on it if you didn’t think it was a point of note somehow. It becomes more about some imaginary standard of maturity rather than about a youthful state of mind. I am 24, but why should that give me more of a right to go get black out drunk on a Wednesday night and sleep around than someone who is 39? Why should my mere 24 years of age prevent me from having a meaningful relationship with or casually dating a woman who is 31? Nothing. My age does not determine my maturity just like yours doesn’t determine your youth.

Over the summer I took my birth year off of facebook along with my HS and college graduation years. I avoid questions of age or comments that specifically date me when I’m in new groups because, more often than not, those new groups are older than I am. As much as we all like to say that we don’t ascribe a standard of maturity to certain ages, most of us do. So I let people get to know me first. I let them look at me and think that I’m 26-29 and then watch in amusement when I tell them that I turn 25 in March.

Sure, I might be young. All that means is that I have growing up to do. But then again, don’t we all? Isn’t that the whole point: to grow up, but to stay youthful? I guess I just wish that more people would be willing to accept that youth is a state of mind and while I may not have been a teenager in the early 90s, there’s no reason we can’t build a meaningful connection.

You see, posting bail is an interesting thing. It is an amount that is determined to be high enough so that it is an inconvenience to pay and insure a criminal’s return to court, but low enough so that it is affordable (within capability, not reason). For more serious crimes and criminals, as you’ve probably seen on t.v., a judge will deny bail and say that the accused is a flight risk.

I was not seen as a flight risk that night (and I wasn’t).

The problem is that I am in so many other aspects of my life. I get bored very easily. I get bored of girls easily, I get bored of hobbies easily, I get bored of jobs, I’ve even been known to get bored of friends. This is when I’m likely to jump ship. I need to be challenged in order to maintain interest. I need a constant state of change (within reason) and new obstacles.

I’ve ended relationships because I was no longer being challenged; everything was just… there. I quit a job and moved 300 miles away because I was bored with work and the friends around me. I practiced the trumpet maybe twice a week for almost a decade because it came naturally and I was rarely pushed to my limit.

I don’t mind my need for challenge. In fact, I love it. I think it’s one of the more interesting things about me. What I want to change is my conviction (no, not referring to the jail story; that was expunged years ago). Going back to last week’s post about my fear of commitment, I have the same issue with jobs and hobbies and non-personal relationships. I hate that I’m 3 months into a job and I’m already bored with it and wishing I had something new. I hate that I can count on one hand the number of people who challenge me as much as I need to be.

On the other hand… a desire to be challenged by something shows a certain level of affection, no? I challenge myself at my bar every day that I work because I love it. I set new and more extensive running goals for myself because running is exhilarating. I challenged my comfort zones by registering for a “conference” in Vegas because it exposes me to new people and experiences. I cannot bring myself to care about creating challenges with my day job, though. It bores me to no end.

I’m trying something new, though.

I’m challenging my habits because that’s the only way to make them better.

I’m sticking with the job and coming up with ways to care about making it work.
I’m not allowing myself to remain a flight risk.

I was blindsided.

My dad told us that he couldn’t be the husband he felt he ought to be. My sister and I were reassured that both parents still loved us very much and that we would still see both of them regularly, but that our dad would be moving out and eventually we would be selling the house. Both parents made a concerted effort to enforce the claim that our relationships, as children, would only be slightly affected by their divorce.

As much as I wanted to believe this, deep down I knew something was wrong. I felt alone. I felt like my dad was leaving the family behind. Like many children of divorce, I felt like I had done something horribly wrong to contribute to the destruction of my family. I felt abandoned.

If you couldn’t guess it or have never experienced it: feeling abandoned by someone in your family who you look up to and idolize is a pretty big deal. That’s the kind of thing that sticks with you.

Another thing that sticks with you? When it appears that your closest friends are doing the same thing.

It wouldn’t be so awful to have the experiences stick with me if it weren’t for the effect that they have on my present life (and life over the last several years). That effect being: I don’t like to let people in.

I’ve become very good at keeping people (potential friends and romantic interests alike) at an arm’s distance. I let them in just enough to know a bit about me and to feel comfortable with me, but I almost never fully open up. It sounds cold, but it’s really just easier that way.

I don’t like the idea that somebody could cause pain like I felt when my parents divorced or when I felt alone during my depression. If I only allow people in to my life up to a certain level, then I remain protected. I don’t end up crying when things go wrong and I don’t end up wishing that I knew what I could have done better. I don’t go back to the person and try to see what I could have done differently or try to have them take me back (probably because I usually am the one to end things, though). Of course, this isn’t to say that I don’t feel anything when a friendship or relationship of some kind ends; I do. I just don’t dwell on it for very long.

I do this all out of fear. I keep people at bay out of fear that they will, once getting to know me completely, reject me. They will see aspects of my personality that repulse them and they will leave me stranded. I fear spending a long period of my life with someone who eventually discovers that they don’t love me the way they think they should. Almost as much as I’m afraid of being abandoned, I’m afraid of rejection. It’s kept me from talking to countless pretty girls. It’s kept me from telling some people how I feel about them. Rejection on that level is basically just Abandonment Lite.

The thing is… I’m sick of being afraid of these things. I try to overcome them. I try to tell myself that I’ll never fully be happy with somebody until I allow myself to let them in. I try to tell myself that it’s better to take a risk and fail than to not try at all.

But none of it works. It’s such a deep part of me. It’s definitely habitual. My defenses are always up high and I require spectacular feats of affection and trust and personal challenge from people in order to let them in.

So for now, I keep working on it… and hopefully one day I’ll be able to let down the defenses so not everyone has to fight through mazes and guards and get past walls… and a moat. (You can never forget about the moat).