

Here's an undeniable truth: Sometimes saying sorry is the hardest thing to do. But I am not an unreasonable person — I can easily recognise when I've done wrong and I have very clearly not treated you the way someone deserves to be treated.
First, though, let me try to explain.
I came to the ripe age of eighteen at a very different time. It was 2012, and I was still very much under the impression that the only girl to be was the ‘cool girl.’
Of course, that created one very distinct problem for me: by that point, I’d already chosen you as my preferred beverage and everyone had declared you overrated.
But let me make this clear: Brown Brothers Moscato, you were always my drink of choice, even if it didn’t always seem like it.
As hard as I fought against it, I couldn’t deny that girls who drank beer and whiskey were the cool girls. (Carrie Underwood, I’m looking at you here. If you know, you know.)
I couldn't quite stomach beer so I settled for cider. But, I promise you, that did not change a thing: you were still my favourite beverage. I swear it.
I know that’s what everyone seems to say, but I know I can say with absolute certainty that you were always my preference (and it wasn’t like I enjoyed it either).
But as I continued to choose others over you, you continued to stay true: On nights in with pizza, during countless rewatches of Buffy and One Tree Hill, and on karaoke nights in my sister’s apartment.
I sometimes even felt brave enough to introduce you to friends. Of course, that list was highly selective. After all, I couldn’t let my cool girl persona falter in front of the wrong group of people. Still, despite this, you stuck by me.