declarations of love for whiskypants

Yes, my dears, it is true. A man told me that he loved me today. Not once, but twice.

Sadly, I don't believe it was my electrifying wit, sassy green eyes, my admirable worldview or my ample bosom that let to these outpourings of deepest adoration. No. It was for my research skills. My research skills are quite formidable, mind you... but come on.

You see, he divulged he was quite thirsty for a few pints of Belhaven. He seemed quite desperate for a draught (not a bottle), describing the stuff as manna from heaven... In fact, he said that Belhaven is "god's way of telling us he loves us". I thought this was rather odd as I always thought that sex was His way of telling us He loves us.

Well, upon learning this drink is akin to le petit mort, I googled it and learned that it was Scottish. You won't believe this, my loves, but a Scottish bar opened about a mile from my apartment just a few months ago. The last time I visited it they gave me a card and, by golly, it has a web address. The Flying Scotsman has a growing reputation.

After teasing him with this tantalizing information for about an hour, and after verifying that they did indeed have Belhaven on draft, Bunny dearest declared his love for me. I don't think he minded that I laughed. But, what is he going to do for me? I'm not sure my research skills will be adequately compensated with his proffered shiny quarter. Perhaps we will find out later this week. We just can't go on Tuesdays as I wish to avoid the older British gent that has taken a shine to me...