Just a few minutes ago, I passed through my home without one thought of you but somewhere between washing the days grime from my face and passing through the kitchen still lingering with the evening dinner aromas, my mind flickered, a faint memory, a night of which I have barely spoken…my night with you, the way I had longed for it and the way it went horribly wrong.
I’m not romantic by nature but there is something fascinating about the way these things happen, they way one look, one touch or how something as harmless as an invitation to dinner can change forever what you thought you would…or would not do. How quickly we can get lost, lose our footing and stumble into something we were in no way ready for…my night with you, that night…I let myself stumble and I spend more time than I care to admit thinking about it.
I have wanted you for as long as I can remember, thought about touching you, having your scent envelop me, have my breath smell of you, feel your power overtake me and feel myself softening beneath your weight. I had let my mind spin a wondrous stories about how it may happen, where we would be, who might be with us, when I would know, know the second it was about to happen…when you were ready to surrender, open up and let me take you in.
To harbor such desire for so long, to let your mind play while your body is unable to..only makes the flame hotter, makes the longing more deliciously painful, even thinking of those years before that night, make me wish I could go back there…pay closer attention, know what I wanted more, know what part of you I might linger over the longest…would I spend my, much ached for seconds hovering over you…taking deep lung filling smells, let your aroma seep deep inside of me, saturate me….or would I let my tongue be my memory, let your taste spread all over me and be the one that I would measure all others against? Flashes, fantasies, seconds, minutes, hours…all you, they all belonged to you, and it was all lost, in one night.
Have you ever wanted someone so bad that you quiver at the very thought of it, have a physical reaction to the mere idea of being close enough to smell their hair, taste the salt on their skin, dreamed of that first second when your lips touched…the way your heart pounds and breathing gets more labored and desperate…now what if you had no idea it was them?
My issue? Blind tastings.
Now there has been all kinds of chatter on the internets about bloggers, wine critics and credibility as of late, and one thing that keeps flashing before my skimming of the chatter eyes….”the only way to truly judge a wine fairly is to taste it blind” and to that I have to say bullshit, or sort of bullshit. To remove the acquisition aspect of some wines is like making love to that person you have been wanting for years…with the lights off. Would it mean as much if you had no idea who it was? It may not change the actual physical feeling but part of the pleasure is in the “having” of it…with them. So okay, you just made love to someone, it was nice…maybe not the best you have had, but viola, you turn on the lights and it’s Angelina Jolie…change anything….would it change anything if the lights were on BEFORE?! Okay, I’m being sexist, for the ladies lets imagine Denzel Washington or George Clooney…although speaking as a hetero female, Angelina…just sayin’.
I was invited to a dinner a couple of years ago, the wines were tasted blind and we were given a check off sheet, with almost all the questions being ones that had you looking for flaws, we ran through the wines….rather quickly as I recall, checking off all the less than nice things we found in the wines, only after we had completed our “sheets” were we able to see what we were tasting….Comte de Vogue Burgundy…multiple vintages.
Now had we not been led to pick the wines apart, had we seen what it was that we were tasting I think the actual “reviews” would have been truer…..and more honest. We weren’t looking for anything lovely, or subtle. We were blind tasting red wines with a scorecard of “how much of this yucky stuff did you find”…it was retarded and lives in infamy as one of the longest most crushing nights of my life. Part of it is I am a Burgundy lover, had I known what I was tasting I might have been paying more attention, if I had been given like a few positive things to look for I may have had different answers and the biggest part was being surrounded by passionless people that seemed to relish in ripping these wines, (even blindly) a new one…ick, boo and hiss.
If only I had known….known it was…you.