I want every woman who's ever consumed a glass of wine without consequently getting emotional about a dude - real or imaginary; yours or not; from the past or present - to please come forward. I'm serious. Come forward ladies. Both of you!
You see, it happens to the best of us. So don't ask me how many glasses I've had - who keeps track anyway? - because we all know it really only takes one...
The nose immediately brings me back to senior year of college on a snowy day in February. As the first sip fills my mouth and slides down my throat I recognize the taste. I remember sharing the bottle and feeling the burn of the alcohol and the oaky plum flavors from his tongue mixed with mine as we kissed.
Fast forward to the following January and that guy would probably rather mix his tongue around with a razor blade. I wish I could tell you why, or what, or how - but I can't. So I drink a glass of wine, and I wonder (read: analyze)...the answers don't come to me. I think to myself that I'm probably too sober to have any real thoughts, so I pour another glass. Still nothing. One glass later and I'm still analyzing - this time outloud:
"Maybe I should have sex with him."
"Maybe I should have never had sex with him."
"I always made myself too available. Maybe I should just act like I'm not interested."
"I never let him know how much I cared."
"I care too much."
"Telling him I loved him was a mistake." (For the record, I've never said it sober, yet I fail to find any positive correlation between my blood alcohol level and my love level. Don't fight me on this one.)
This goes on long enough for me to call up some girlfriends (really girls, aren't you sick of it yet?). Either they were drinking Cabernet as well, or they could just hear the 13.5% Alcohol by Volume in my voice, because they started analyzing outloud too:
"You just need to be confident and show him that he's not getting to you!"
"You are too good for him!!!"
"Just think about all the new boys you will meet!!!!!"
I'm too buzzed to snap back with any type of witty response about how "I can't wait to meet those new boys either because I always wanted to feel this pain of rejection from multiple sources", so I just let them think that they're right and that they're motivating me to a happier place where "he" no longer affects me. I hang up and go to pour myself another glass...but there's only enough left to provide a few final swallows.
I spend all this time looking for answers in a bottle, but by the end of the night I've consumed enough that there is no liquid left to reflect whatever it is I'm looking for.
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