Seeking the Holy Hydration Grail

This past month, I fell into a thirst trap.

For the olds out there, a thirst trap is what you call a weeks-long search for a new insulated water bottle wherein you disregard all other responsibilities both professionally and personally. Please, try to keep up.

A bottle that keeps water ice cold comes a dime a dozen, and sometimes even cheaper. I have more free water bottles than I do adoring blog followers which is to say: two. (Hi, mom).

Alas, none of the freebies match my specifics: 32 ounces, matte coating on the outside, spout top.

To consider.

I work in an office building kept at a comfortable temperature. 

A plastic cup and a coaster would do the trick. Nonetheless, I am a business boy and for any given meeting I put my bottle on display next to my closed laptop and face-down phone as is outlined in The Business Boy Handbook™ (get $200 off your copy of this Gary Vee white paper now through my personal referral code PLEASEHELPME).

"Water coolers are dead. We are now our own water coolers. So, uh, drink up."

I never go hiking. 

Like the desk warriors buying Red Wings and pool dads carrying Yeti coolers before me, I am buying beyond my needs. I find myself succumbing to aspirations I don't even aspire to. I don't hike. I don't camp. I don't do anything nearly hardcore enough to warrant an indestructible safari canteen. I am debilitatingly scared of heights after all.

Out of frame: Calvin peeing on wealth tax

The process.

I started by crowdsourcing suggestions. The response was a resounding and rattling refrain from what I can only guess were brand ambassadors of Hydroflask. Consider these people a new addition to a beloved list. Crossfitters only talk about WODS. Vegans only talk about plant-based alts. Hydroflaskers only talk about drinking water, as an adult, from a straw.

Hydroflask is the leader in the crowded clubhouse. Problem is, those suckers are pricey. Plus, I don't own a 4-Runner (It's essentially a truck!) and I don't like the idea of putting stickers on my rear window (My water bottle could beat up your weak, pathetic water bottle in bare knuckle combat).

The decision weighed on me more than it should have. It's just a water bottle. Right? So let's get to it.

You chose this overused meme poorly.

The decision.

Drumroll, please. After searching high and low, I found a Hydroflask alternative: the Takeya 32 ouncer. Wide mouth with a drinkable spout. Half the price. Countless positive reviews.

I added it to my cart. 

I immediately closed the tab without purchasing. Why? Well, when it comes to decision-making, I'm insufferable. I spent weeks researching water bottles and then wrote a blog post about it, so yeah, I may not put a Yeti sticker on my Mazda, but I am just as worthy of your eye rolls.

what idiot called it online retail and not Windows shopping

For once, however, I had the last laugh. For once, my analysis paralysis (some would call this "research") paid off. The day after my waffling, Amazon added a $10 coupon to the exact product I abandoned. 

Did Bezos know? 

Did eavesdropping Alexa tell him I was thirsty for a deal on a Hydroflask giant-killer? 

Did paranoia-inducing Alexa pass on to him that the bottle I wanted was the color "midnight" and that the coupon should only apply to that one? 

Did my generous and merciful overlord Alexa happen to mention that I love Amazon and Jeff Bezos and everything is great no need to send a weaponized Whole Foods grocery drone to drop 2,000 pounds of raw organic grass-fed ground beef on my home, crushing everything inside it and removing any possibly of further purchases from my wife's Prime account?

Clearly, I made a clear-headed decision.

Two days later, my Takeya 32 oz. midnight matte insulated water bottle with a wide mouth and spout top arrived.

I promptly put a sticker on the logo. Those Hydroflaskers will never know the difference.