Aisling started to notice something peculiar while doing legal work at The Hague. She shared an open office with investigators, most of them men, and every Wednesday at 6 p.m., they would sneak off with little glasses. What is this – some kind of boys club? She asked them. They insisted it wasn’t a boys club, it was a whiskey club, but that girls don’t drink whiskey. Aisling sized up the Aussies, Kiwis, and Fins in the group, wondering what exactly they would know about whiskey.
“If we could find a girl who likes whiskey, she can join,” they said.
I have dated many whiskies and I tend to use them interchangeably depending on my mood. They don’t mind being used; they are dependable, usually available, and I don’t care if they don’t love me as much as I love them. I can tell them my problems, cry with them, laugh with them…you get the picture. And so I refer to them by first names:
Jack is Jack Daniel’s, one of my first loves. Pictured to the right. Fine lookin' man.
James or Jamie is Jameson. He was a gift (from God!) on my 21st birthday.
Jim or Jimmy is actually Jim Beam. I knew him better in my youth; we’ve kind of grown apart, although I hear he has some older brothers – Devil’s Cut, let’s meet up – that I keep meaning to flirt with.
Mark – Maker’s Mark. I’m a sucker for that red wax.
Pete, a.k.a. Peat, is actually named after the ingredient that gives whiskey that smoky taste.