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She’ll seduce you.

Look you straight in the eye, and say, she wants you. And you’ll have no choice but to take her home. I did. And I’ve taken my time with her.

Admiring her barely-there curves. She’s gentle. Sexy. Almost by accident. It’s as if she doesn’t intend to be but can’t help it. Desperados. A name that should be spoken softly. Drawn out. Whispered. She’s a beer worth a thousand poems. What am I saying? She is poetry. Fluid. Soft. Warm (even when ordered ice cold). Woman. 5.9%. Full. Confident. In control of her senses. Like Tequila always is. And when she takes control of you, you aren’t offended. You welcome her. Embrace her. Take her. All of her. Because she can’t be had any other way.

Desperados. She’s the type of girl you pursue for months, years even. And she tells you about the boy she loves who doesn’t love her back. And you listen. And let her cry on your shoulders. She’ll pull out the poetry in your eyes, on your lips, your hands.

It’s a warm night. You’re overdressed for it. A hoodie and sweater on top of it. You walk into a club called Kuzima and can’t help but remember the night you can’t remember, because ulizima hapa hapa Kuzima. You take your seat. Your friend orders his Tusker and you order Savanna, Dry Cider. He frowns and suggests that you order something else. “Savanna is awful,” he says, “trust me.” I look at him and wonder, how dare he, tell me what to drink and repeat my order. “I’ll have a Savanna.”

“You won’t like it.”

I can’t believe his gall. I will have what I please and that will be the last we talk about it. But then he mentions something. Suggests I try this drink called Desperados.

Immediately I hear the name, I’m taken back to Game Night at the Tav. It was a Game of Thrones Themed Night. Team of five (I think). Friends. People I met for the first time that night. Random, intense, desperados. We didn’t win. In fact, we were somewhere in the top 110. But man, did we have fun. I was fresh out of a 7-season Game of Thrones Marathon. New to the club and eager to prove that I belonged. And I did. With a sexy bottle of Desperados in hand.

So, when he suggested I drink Desperados instead of Savanna, I didn’t even think about it. I asked the waiter if they served it because I’ve asked before and it wasn’t available. Turns out they did. And so, she was brought on to the table. She came with a friend, and I wasn’t complaining. Poured her into my glass, I was sold. A girl in love. Desperados for another taste. Armed with tequila, she attacked my senses. Had me craving more but not so much that I didn’t enjoy what was right in my glass at that moment.

I’ve been looking for a beer to settle on for a while now. Trying to find something that’s not too strong and not too mild. Did Tusker Lite for a while but it tastes like water and takes like seven bottles to get a slight buzz. I can only stomach one bottle of Tusker Cider because I end up as full as if I’d eaten a whole chicken. I’ve tried Faxe, but the only thing it proved was that I’m not a strong malt kind of girl. Black Ice is too sweet and a joke (but great when trying to get a quick buzz) and let’s not even talk about Guarana.

Enter, Desperados. She’s the type of girl you pursue for months, years even. And she tells you about the boy she loves who doesn’t love her back. And you listen. And let her cry on your shoulders. She’ll pull out the poetry in your eyes, on your lips, your hands. And you’ll have no choice but to let her in, let her take you and consume you. You’ll take her home and before you consume her, take a picture because she deserves to be frozen in time. 

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