Why It's Ok to Hate Indiana Craft Beer And Still Love Your Husband

28 Aug Why It’s Ok to Hate Indiana Craft Beer And Still Love Your Husband

Posted at 18:55h in Musings, Uncategorized by Justin Knepp 0 Comments

By Indiana On Tap Guest Contributor Krysta Bozman

Hops, Ale, IPA, Stout, Growlers, Craft, Keg, Lager, Shandy, Sessions. These are all words that my husband uses frequently when referring to that thing he loves: Indiana craft beer. Unfortunately I don’t have the same feeling about these words as my husband and most the time when he’s using them around me, all I hear is blah, blah, blah, blah.

You see, I don’t like craft beer. I don’t like any beer. However, thanks to my husband and the five years we have been together I can now tell the difference between your typical nationally brewed beer and a craft beer. Do I seek it out? No. Do I enjoy it? Not really.

When tasting one of the samples from his flight…(oh yeah, add that to the list, “flight”)… my usual response is, “Yep, tastes like beer,” with an occasional “Oh dear God, that’s disgusting.”

When smelling a beer, (because there is no way I’ll drink it without smelling it first), I have been able to detect a citrus smell once or twice in my life. However most the time it just smells like beer to me…again, with an occasional ‘hint’ or ‘undertone’ of “Oh dear God, that’s disgusting.”

Before all you beer lovers start hating on me, please know that even though I don’t like beer, I do love my husband! To prove how much, I recently went to a beer festival with him. That’s right, I stepped out of my comfort zone and went to a festival that was completely dedicated to the liquid I find most foul. I figured he loves it, his friends and family love it, heck most the people I know love it…so maybe it’s just me?

Tasting glass in hand I stood in lines I otherwise would avoid like the plague and I tasted that crap…(I mean, I tasted the crap out of that stuff). After several sniffs, sips and a literal choking of one entire tasting glass at one point, (all the while surrounded by people who obviously delight in this), I came to the conclusion that it is indeed just me. I’m the only gal in the entire state of Indiana who doesn’t like craft beer.

My husband was in his usual element that night. He enjoyed and savored every drink and even got some amusement out of my reactions to each attempt to try and find that one that would forever change my opinion on beer.

Alas it did not happen, and that’s ok.

He has this as a hobby, something that is all his. He’s happy to share it with me if I ever want but is just as happy to have it as “his thing.” As a matter of fact, the only conflict this ever causes is when his hobby takes up coveted refrigerator space and well, most the time that’s ok too.