It’s been a long, beautiful intimate love affair—I’m so glad she stuck around.

The Night of the Affair

After a crazy week, it’s finally Friday night. As I drag my ass to the living room, I realize how tired I feel. My body and brain are exhausted; eyelids slowly melting together. I free fall onto our super comfy couch and bury deep between the cracks of the cushions.

I try to use as little muscular strength as possible and simply hang out on my bones, making a right angle from my head to my body, legs resting on a large ottoman. I glance at the clock and realize its only 8:30pm. Good grief! I know how much I need to crawl to bed, but I just can’t bear the thought of falling asleep without, first, getting a taste of her.

My First Time

I met my match 10 years ago when a friend came over for dinner and, to my surprise, brought an Australian redhead.

She tagged along with him to expand my palate and complement the cheap take out sushi served in Styrofoam containers. This meal has since been taken off my menu, but at the time it was a perfect option, given that neither of us wanted to test our culinary skills. I eyed her suspiciously, as my preference was either a good mixed drink or maybe, if nothing else was available, a glass of sweet white wine.

Red wine, I assumed, were for those other people who had money and expensive tastes. Those people were not my people.

The bottle was pried opened with an old corkscrew, aired for a few minutes, and then poured into inexpensive plastic wine glasses. I hoped for the best, clunked and took a sip with apprehension. The sour look on my face was a dead giveaway—-what the f*ck was this? My dinner date, noticing my expression, tried to encourage me with words about how one can learn to appreciate her. I thought, “Why on earth would anyone try to like this sh*t?”

With every swallow it was only getting mildly better. After a few more disappointing gulps (just trying to finish), I thought how unfair it was for me to continue to drink her when she deserved better.

To be honest, she was bitter and tasted like dirt—-but I would never say that to her face.

Our Intimate Affair

It’s time. I wait on my couch as I hear a familiar sound emanating from the kitchen. I glance over and see the-way-too–technical wine opener, with bunny ears, making its evening debut. The cork is carefully lifted out of the narrow opening and replaced by an aerator. This allows for instantaneous breathing, from all of us in the room, including her.

My heart rate slows and my mind relaxes as I prepare for the evening ahead.

My hand is open, receptive and ready. I reach, make contact and then close my palm gently around the large glass goblet, given to me my strikingly good looking husband. I peek inside; the red fluid is flirting with me. She bats her beautiful eyelashes and beckons me to take a sip. I wait… then breathe deeply and fill my nostrils with her heavenly scent. She smells bold and earthy. I tease and take a small taste—-the liquid lingers in my mouth so I can feel all of her delicate qualities. I feel the warmth of her fluid moving around my mouth, slowly making its way down my throat and into my body.

I laugh. She smiles. We make contact again and again; my mouth on her full body. Each sip is more intense. She brings up memories of the past; a beach restaurant, a celebration, a night on the town and my intimate journey with the man I married. But I want more. With her vibrant energy, she lifts me out of the spineless position of fatigue and into an upright, more assertive posture.

As I sit up, spine tall, I pull her close and tell her how much she means to me. I can hardly believe we almost didn’t make it. We embrace; lip locked as we surrender to the moment.

Defining the Relationship

Since our first encounter, our relationship has been delicate and fluctuating. Sometimes we meet regularly and other times we break it off. However, we’ve reached an agreement; she’s a wonderful contributor to my life, but she doesn’t come around every day.

Don’t get me wrong—-I love her and will always find time for her; a romantic evening, birthday party or a gossipy girl’s night out—-but it’s the distance that makes our connection so special. It’s been a long, beautiful intimate love affair. I’m so glad she stuck around.

 

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Assistant Ed. Paige Vignola/Ed: Bryonie