Listen up, peeps (see what I did there?). I have a confession to make. Recently (as in last Tuesday), I’ve adopted this new habit where I started drinking a glass of red wine an hour or two before I go to bed at night. Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. “Red wine. Come on, Peep! You’re a man for chrissakes! Have a beer, pussy!” First off, let me begin by saying I agree with 50% of that assertion many of you have. Sure, I’m not exactly a middle aged white woman entering her first stage of menopause who lives and dies by her wine. Instead, I happen to be a 27-year old heterosexual male. But you know what? Just because I enjoy vagina and a pair of titties doesn’t mean I also can’t enjoy a nice glass of red every once in a while (or every night in this case) – especially considering the fact I’m under 50-years old and not in the midst of a mid-life crisis. Perhaps I’m becoming the Jackie Robinson for young, straight men everywhere breaking down age-old stereotypes holding us back. We can drink wine and not be gay, too! Not that there’s anything wrong with that (i.e. being gay).

But here’s where things get dicey. I have another confession to make. I started this new wine ritual strictly for the health benefits. You know, for the antioxidants! The increased level of HDL cholesterol (i.e. the good cholesterol)! The lower risk of type-2 diabetes! Did I mention I’m a 27-year old male who has a body mass index that falls in the “normal” range, eats moderately healthy, and exercises regularly? I’m afraid to admit it, folks, but I think I’m becoming a giant loser. But I have to admit I’m sort of enjoying it. Go ahead and hate on me all you want. I’m gonna have my glass of red at night and not give a fuck what the rest of the world thinks about it. Go ahead and drink your IPAs and your disgusting whiskeys. I’ll be content with my $20 bottle of cab.

P.S. – Tonight I double fisted a glass of Pinot noir with a La Croix while I listened to Drake’s “Take Care” album and wrote this blog. @ me, haters.