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"  On a typical evening, depending on the time of year, Sweetie (the wife) and I will have some sort of drink. Around four o&amp;#039;clock, I&amp;#039;ll join her in the den with a reminder that in one hour I will be asking her what she&amp;#039;ll want to drink that night, and that she should start thinking about it now. A half hour later, I&amp;#039;ll remind her again, and at five, I&amp;#039;ll ask her what she&amp;#039;s decided. Without fail, she&amp;#039;ll need another half hour to think about it. At some point, just to accelerate her thought process, I&amp;#039;ll announce my selection for the evening, which often changes based on her eventual choice.  For us, &amp;quot;martini&amp;quot; is a loose term for me brutally shaking many ounces of alcohol in a shaker. (Oxo makes an excellent one that is like a thermos, double-lined so you can shake longer without giving your hands freezer burn.) What we&amp;#039;re really looking for is cold booze in a beautiful glass. It might be vodka or tequila \u2014 a\u00F1ejo or silver. In the winter, I might have a dry Rob Roy (Scotch, dry vermouth, and a twist). Sweetie, on the other hand, has taken a liking to Hendrick&amp;#039;s-gin martinis, served with a cucumber spear. I tried to steer her away from gin, fearing that it makes for an angry drunk, but so far that hasn&amp;#039;t happened. She&amp;#039;s delightful. (So is our nine-year-old Rhodesian ridgeback. He&amp;#039;s developed a Pavlovian response to cocktail hour. As soon as he hears me scooping manly amounts of ice into our glasses to chill, he stands up and heads for our bar to eat ice cubes. I&amp;#039;ve convinced him they&amp;#039;re a treat.) The endless frustration comes when we decide to drink champagne. We have many styles of champagne flutes, but no matter which one I pick, it isn&amp;#039;t the style Sweetie wants that night. Lately I&amp;#039;ve taken to bringing her three distinct choices from the bar. Even then, none will satisfy her. I&amp;#039;ve begun to realize that her daily choice of booze is more an unconscious reflection of what kind of glass she wants to hold than of the liquor she wants to drink. My choice is a reflection of what&amp;#039;s important to me, so, I&amp;#039;ll have what she&amp;#039;s having. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/food-drink/drinks/a5887/drinking-with-wife-0609/>