IPA blindsided, vows to keep pouring for “real fans”
Olmos Park, TX — In a development that has shaken the craft beer community, a local resident announced the end of his long-term relationship with India Pale Ale, citing “irreconcilable bitterness.”
Friends say the split had been brewing for months, but few expected him to make it official in writing. The note, obtained by The Underground Mirror, reads like a cross between a Dear John letter and a Yelp review:
Dear IPA,
I never thought I’d have to write this. You, sitting there now, radiant in your tulip glass, head tall and proud, probably believe this is forever. You probably believe we’re untouchable. But you’re wrong.
When we first met, you were electric. Bold. Dangerous. You smacked me with citrus bitterness, filled my lungs with pine forests, made me feel like the bravest man in the bar. I couldn’t stop talking about you to my friends. Every weekend, every party, every fridge — you were there.
But lately, I’ve changed. Or maybe you have. Your relentless bitterness is no longer a thrill, it’s a chore. My tongue feels like it’s been dragged across a grapefruit rind, and I can’t keep pretending I like that in a partner.
Don’t misunderstand: you’re still desirable. There are armies of bearded hipsters in raw denim and ironic trucker hats who will line up to worship you, who will dissect your hop profile with reverence, who will pay $11.50 for the privilege of drowning in your piney spite. You deserve them, and they deserve you.
But I can’t do this anymore. I never promised exclusivity, and you knew that. There was always a lager, a stout, even the occasional pilsner. You thought they were passing flings but the truth is, they understand me in ways you never could.
I know you’ll foam over me, call me a traitor, say I’ll come crawling back when I tire of the light, the smooth, the uncomplicated. Maybe you’re right. But right now, I need something gentler. Something that doesn’t taste like an argument in a lemon grove.
So this is goodbye, IPA. I’ll always remember our wild nights, our reckless summers, the way you taught me to crave more than bland yellow fizz. But our story ends here.
Regretfully (and a little relieved),
-B
Industry insiders say IPA is “taking time to process,” but was overheard muttering at a tap takeover, “Good riddance, he couldn’t handle me anyway.”
Sources close to the local man report he’s been seen on quiet evenings with a stout, and once — shamefully — a hard seltzer.
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