When I suggest a white wine, some men look at me like I just outted them, like I just said, “Well, faggot, I think this  faggotty wine would go perfectly with your faggotty little dinner.”

I don’t know why, how, or when asking for a “big red” came to be so important to most men. Really, the vehemence with which some gentlemen request their Cabernet can only serve to mask their short comings in other areas, bien sur.

News flash: When you ask for your “big reds,” when you dismiss the notion of white wine with such an incredulous sneer, you miss your aim. I’ve said it a thousand times, I don’t judge someone by what he likes. I judge someone (yes, I do) by how he acts about what he/I/you/she likes. I don’t think more of someone because he wants a 92 point Cabernet; anybody can skim a magazine. I do, however, think less of someone who looks down his nose at something because he’s afraid to be uncool. Which even Fonzi would say is uncool.

With wine, it’s all so high school. Everyone trying to pose and not look stupid. “I knew that.” “I’ve had so and so.” I guess life’s like that more often than not.

Who’s cooler: Napolean Dynamite or the gayrod preppie boyfriend in every 80’s flick ever? Sure, you say Napolean now, but be honest. Take yourself back–very few of us had the courage to like, let alone be like, the Napolean Dynamites of our school. We all sow a little seed inside us that prays to be adored.

So grow up, buck up, and grab yourself by the huevos. Ask for a Pinot Noir–you’ll look intriguing. Shit, make it a rose.

Nobody’s going to laugh. And if they do, look at them like they’re an … idiot!