In my short time on this planet I have arguably learned little. As less as I could get away with and still earn a quid. Learning stuff is difficult and ignorance is indeed bliss. One thing I have learned, though not through choice, is the pleasure of delayed gratification. I say not through choice as by and large I arguably prefer instant gratification, however circumstances do not always lend themselves to instant gratification.
The example that most springs to mind is one of being a single man embarking upon a date with an object of affection, as I did occasionally before I met the delight of my life. Very occasionally, mind, as I have never been a champion puller of the ladies. Always wanted to be, never could be. At least before I cracked the lady squeeze. How I managed that I'll never know.
When embarking upon a date, I did wish to get to know the lady in question better; I am not a complete animal. However I also wished to rattle her senseless and preferably on the first date. As wonderful as the overall personality of the lady in question may very well be, the reason for dating the girl is that you find her sexually attractive and you don’t really know her well enough to know either way about her many other attributes admirable or otherwise. Occasionally one is fortunate and manages to embark on a date with a lady of flexible morals that you can rattle on a first date, and occasionally the girl makes you wait a while before dragging you into her boudoir. You can try to speed it up by chucking wine down her neck, but it isn’t always to be recommended if the lady isn’t a seasoned boozer. You can find yourself chucked out of taxi cabs and carrying your young lady over your shoulder. It is the waiting for the 3rd or 4th date that constitutes the delayed gratification. The desire to rattle her within minutes of meeting her and the week or two that passes before you manage it. I would even go as far as to say delayed gratification can make the final gratification all the more pleasurable, but that does not stop me from preferring instant gratification.
And so it is with the lager product that I am currently excited about. 10 pints of gorgeous draft Carling. I want one now. I wanted one 2 minutes after it arrived. However it needed chilling, and low and behold I’m out of the country for a few days until mid next week. Germany of all places. Talking bollocks to Germans for a few days. On my tod, drumming up work. I shall enjoy the trip; I usually do as it’s a nice country, with or without the longing to be at home with my lovely keg of Carling and feeling a regular pang at missing it. I’ll also miss the lady Squeeze but I can talk to her on the phone. I can’t talk to my keg of lout. I shall not get to taste the chilled fizzy delight of cooking lager until next week. I will have to wait. Until then I will have to satisfy myself with German Helles Bier & Weiss Bier and the like, all the time dreaming of a proper pint of cooking lager. The wait will be worth it, and the pleasure intensified exponentially, but that does not quell the pain of waiting. Occasional readers of this rubbish will be aware that the lovely people at Coors sent me a free one, and specifically the super lady that is Kristy. I’d like to think because they are wonderful human beings. It cannot be marketing as bugger all people read this tosh and of those that do even less are likely to agree with it. It is just that they are wonderful.
So I pack my mini wheeled suitcase, dig out my passport and find my spare Euros. Every so often I go to the fridge, open the door and say “I’m going to miss you, I’ll be back soon” It awaits my return. The lady squeeze has promised not to open it until I get back. She said if she fancies a beer she’ll have a small bottle of lager. I have a photo of it on my mobile. Time will pass, we will be together once more. Not long my love.