How to be a Bad Girlfriend, Lesson Number One:

Last weekend, three days after I returned from San Fran, I opted to drive the five hours up to Boston to visit Boyfriend.  Naturally, I chose to leave right from work on Friday afternoon, which put me on the Jersey Turnpike at approximately 5:15pm.  Which is, coincidentally, the exact moment I began questioning this little plan.  Did I mention that I also made the decision to not change out of my work clothes? Yeahhhhh…

Anyway, several hours and half a book on tape (yup – you read that right) later, I pulled up to his apartment still in high heels and a dress.  Because of course I did.  In fairness, he only judged me this much, but I think that if he’d known then how Sunday afternoon would play out, he may have been a much harsher critic.

Here’s how it went down:

Boyfriend works.  A lot.  As in, I lose track of the multitude of jobs he holds down because he does so many different ones.  When I come up to visit, he generally tries to work as little as possible while I’m there, which is sweet.  Unfortunately, taking 2-3 days off from his approximately 2.5 million jobs is not exactly easy, and he usually has to work at least once while I’m there.  This is fine with me for a couple reasons: 1) the shifts he keeps are usually so early in the morning (5am. True story) that I sleep right through the entire experience and before I know it, he’s back in bed, and 2) the ones that aren’t freakishly early in the morning afford me a little free time to hang out with my Boston friends.  Not that I avoid doing this with Boyfriend, it’s just that having friends up there makes it easier to entertain myself when he’s not around.

This little visit was no different.  Boyfriend knew in advance that he was going to be operating the scoreboard at Northeastern’s baseball game on Sunday afternoon well in advance, and I immediately told my sorority “Little Sister” that she’d be responsible for entertaining me while he was otherwise engaged, since I strongly believe that baseball is the most boring sport on the planet.

Now here’s where it gets dicey for me and I become a shitty girlfriend.  Little suggested a brewery tour – more specifically, since we’ve both already been to Sam Adams, the Harpoon Brewery tour – and I couldn’t say no.  Of course, this resulted in the following conversation with Boyfriend/his boss when I dropped him off at work.

Boss: Are you staying to watch the game, Katie?

Me: Um, no…

Boyfriend: No, she’s going to the Harpoon Brewery.  With her friends.  Without me.  Even though I haven’t been there yet.


So despite my new place in the doghouse, Little and I had a fantastic time at the Brewery.  The tour was, bar none, the best brewery tour I’ve ever been on.  And I’ve done my fair share of brewery touring.  Five dollars bought us a half-hour tour with two hilarious, knowledgeable guides and an hour-long “tasting” at the end.  And by tasting, I mean that they led us to their bar, stocked with 12 taps of Harpoon beer, filled our souvenir four-ounce tasting cups with their original ale, and proceeded to let us drink as much of whatever we wanted for the next hour or so.  Um, hello? Can you think of anything else you’d like from a brewery tour? Because I can’t.  Not one thing.

I also have to make the confession that I wasn’t Harpoon’s biggest fan before this tour.  Having only had their IPA (and, as a rule, hating IPA’s), I wasn’t compelled to really try anything else.  That, my friends, is called foolish – their beer is delicious and extremely well-made, especially the Oyster Stout, Munich Dark, and Cider.  By the end of the afternoon, I was effectively eating drinking my words.  Just consider me a Harpoon convert.

And as for my place in the doghouse?  Well, I think I made a little gain in that department when I brought Boyfriend home a growler of Harpoon’s newest beer: the Belgian Pale Ale.  I mean, he finished it in under two days.  So I’m 97% sure he enjoyed it.