Last night, as we wilted in the heat, Ryter got himself a glass of $50 Zaya rum because he was pretty stressed out and the heat wasn't helping matters. He offered me a sip (just a sip, he knows I don't drink). I declined, mentioning that it seemed a waste to give $50 rum to someone who thus far has found almost no type of alcohol she can tolerate, including fruity sweet liquor, and isn't really too fond of the one she can tolerate, which is champagne.
He said he really just wanted to see my face when I tasted it, and wouldn't consider it a waste.
With trepidation I took a sip; immediately I jerked back, cried "UGH!," frantically scraped at my tongue with my teeth, and hurried to the fridge for some iced green tea while my eyes watered and my mouth felt like it was on fire. Ryter cracked up and said, "On the plus side, your mouth is now sanitized, as that was 40% alcohol."
I don't think I will ever learn if I can "hold my liquor," as I seem incapable of even "holding it" in my mouth...