"Have we met?" "No." "I think you're right."

Dogfish Head Craft Brewery in Milton, DE

You know the guy that’s always sitting at the bar? You know, the bar you always go to after work or at least once a weekend? He never sits at a table. He always seems to find a seat at the bar no matter how many people are there. You’ve never seen him arrive, and you’ve never watched him leave. Somehow, though, he will always have a seat, and he will always draw a crowd around him. He’s always cool-headed and doesn’t do anything too exciting and doesn’t go out of his way to start a scene, nor does he go out of his way to do any grand gestures for the other bar-goers. But there he is. Every time you go to the bar, he is there. He’s a guy you’ve thought of talking to numerous times, but you always decide to go another route, just barely making eye contact, just enough to know you’re there. But he notices you, too. He knows you’re at the bar. And he wants to talk to you. What do you do? Well, you sit next to him in that one empty bar stool at the oak-lined bar that hits you in the face with a scent of bleach and thick malt. You sit down. He orders you a 60 Minute IPA from Dogfish Head, a beer you’ve had dozens of times, and you sit, and you listen.

Your new friend, if you can call him that at this moment, is bright and fragrant. His complexion is immaculate, with a certain glow to him that you’ve seen before in magazines and on television shows. You can smell him just sitting there, and you don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s a slight touch of floral citrus hops, and maybe it’s a hint of the alcohol on his breath. You just don’t know. You take him in, though, and you savor his every word. He’s a wise man with a lot to behold, but his front is bitter. You get past that, though, and you dig deeper. He tells you stories you’ve heard before from others before him. Remember–it won’t be the last time you hear these stories. You still try to find something new in the stories. He tells you one of yeasts and beer with so many hops they almost march through your mouth. You agree. He tells you of a slight whiskey finish you can find on guys that are much like him. You agree. He tells you to not read too much into what he’s saying, but he claims he’s actually quite sweet once you get to know him. You again, agree. Things go well. You’re happy.

The talk isn’t enough, but something tells you to leave. There are others at the bar to talk to. There are others downstairs. Maybe even your friends are downstairs. He understands. He knows his place at the bar. He doesn’t need to impress anyone; everyone has already been impressed. Maybe he’s sad, but you doubt it. Whatever his name, though, you don’t learn it, you just know that he’ll be back whenever you need him. He’ll be at the next bar you go to. And the next one. And maybe even the next one. He’s everywhere, and he’ll be there when you need him. Remember that. You will need him. Soon.