If pressed to order something at a bar, I usually get a lemon drop martini or a fuzzy navel. You know, like a CHILD.
Before the opera I was reviewing my drink options. One had simple syrup, so I asked the waitress if a “jim-let” was sweet or sour. (It was made with lime juice and simple syrup, so it could go either way.) She said she could swap the gin for vodka and I might like it.
I did like it. I even liked it without the sidecar of Sprite the bartender added.
So at 61, I have a new grownup drink. Here is a roundup of what ordering a vodka gimlet says about me.
I am open (albeit by U.K standards). Check.
I am a classy cerebral babe. We supposedly go for the Gimlet in general.
I am self-effacing like this guy. I like his voice.
And finally, yes, I am a huge dork.