I was dating this girl who we’ll call Heather, because that’s her name. Heather didn’t have a dog but she loved telling me how to take care of mine. Heather didn’t drive but she loved to tell me how to drive. Heather didn’t have a prostate but that didn’t stop her from telling me at my age I needed to get an exam (she was off by at least 10 years). Heather did have a bathroom though. So when I was picking out a new bath mat – “picking out” is probably overstating this shopping trip, I was simply buying a new bath mat – Heather had a lot to say about that too. I bought a nice, plush mat so my feet would be comfy as I brush my teeth, dry off after a shower, etc. I thought it was great. Heather didn’t. Heather thought it was too thick. Heather thought it was too beige. Heather thought it was all wrong. We got back to my place and I proudly, and adamantly, placed the new mat on my bathroom floor and closed the door. Well, I tried to close the door. The mat was too thick and the door wouldn’t pass over it. Fuck! Heather was finally fucking right. We both knew it. She stood there glowing with rightness. She was grinning with the joy of me being wrong. Staring down at the mat stuck under the door then at me, then at the mat…. In her mind now, she was ALWAYS right and I could almost hear her inner gloating thoughts. This suddenly made her right about the dog. Right about the prostate exam. I couldn’t let that happen. If she was right about this she really would think she was right about everything – past and future. So I took the door off the hinges setup my two dining chairs like a carpenter’s horse, and searched for a saw, while she read some woman’s magazine that empowers her to think she’s always right. I didn’t have a power saw but that wasn’t going to stop me. I pulled out a handsaw and began hacking away at the bottom of my bathroom door. I lopped off a thick, wavy hunk of that door with great determination. Determination not to make the mat fit, but to be right! I realize this doesn’t make me right, but I wasn’t about to be wrong. Heather watched as I made the uneven cuts and slapped the door back up on the hinges. The door glided over the bath mat with great ease and I shined with satisfaction (albeit feigned satisfaction because we both knew she was right). I was quite proud of myself, not for being right but for making sure Heather wasn’t. I walked out of the bathroom doorway – light shining brightly through the gap of the closed door and I opened my fridge to grab a beer and revel in my “rightness.”
The first bottle at hand was an ale I never tried before from a brewer I love – Stone Brewing Co Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale. It’s not always right but it’s thick head and darkness made it the perfect choice on this particular afternoon. It gets it’s bitterness from more than the just an essence of chocolate and coffee, followed by a lightly sweet taste as it rolls over your tongue and heads towards your throat. This full-bodied beauty leaves a sweet taste on the tongue with a bitter, hoppy hit to the back of your throat – a lot like Heather.