AH, SHIT, A WINE GUY
“Ah, shit. Shit. There’s a wine guy here, being a dick about wine. Shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, buttons to the top of his chest. Deep tan from a tasting tour of the South of France. That sort of thing. He’s insisting on there being a decanter. “No decanter?” he’s shrieking, folding his shirtsleeves up an extra inch. “Right: we need a clean, dry vase, or I can use that big mason jar you use for your muesli. It needs to aerate!” Is he… crying? “This is a 2014, Michael! We need to get some air in here!”
Wine guys are often the worst of all the guys because they very often talk about wine so much it actively makes drinking unpleasant, saying, “Look at the legs on that one” and making you circle your glass up in front of a naked lightbulb so you can see the residue in it. I know a girl who likes wine and I told her my wine-buying technique—I go to the shop and buy the one that is closest to $12 with the biggest punt in the bottom of it—and she nodded and looked sad for a second, then said: “Well, I mean, it’s dumb, but it’s not the worst way of buying wine.” And that’s why I don’t really try when I’m buying wine for a dinner party now.” (p.127)
— Excerpted from the essay A Can of Lager and a three-Course Meal, or A Guide To Dinner Parties, If You Are Sort of in Your Twenties"