Much like everyone else on the planet I’ve longed to love, longed to be loved….yearned to feel that overwhelming sense of acceptance for all that I am, good and bad, the safety of true unconditional love. That place where just seeing each other can make you smile before you're even aware you are doing it, like your body is more keyed into that bubble of happiness than you are. The grin, the compulsion to be close enough to touch, the way your shoulders loosen and all the tension in your chest escapes in a giant exhale ….just from something as simple as laying eyes on one another. It’s pure, safe, beautiful and tremendously comforting.
I have had more than my fair share of this kind of love, I get it from everywhere, feel it all around me all the time, and have been lucky enough to find a way to let it all sink in so deep that I am saturated in it….and dripping it on others. I am grateful everyday for these gifts, these smiles and these full chest releasing expressions of true love. No complaints, no regrets and no lack of room for additions, the problem….I need more.
You know how it feels when you see a really unusual face, the way, (if you like it or not) you are intrigued by it, can’t quite stop looking at it…trying to figure out what to make of it? Well for me, I crave that feeling, it spins me, it haunts me. Think about that moment when you are in a crowd of people speaking your language, it’s comfortable….safe and familiar. You move about chatting, smiling, thinking of the list of shit you have to do the next day….coasting on that puffy cloud of, “Yes, this is what I am accustomed to” and then from the back of the room you hear an accent…a loud rugged one, a soft lifting one or one unlike any you have ever heard before…you can’t help but notice it right? It stands out in a sea of loving comfortable sameness…yeah those moments, I live for those.
As much as I live to be loved, safe and nestled into my own little cloud of comfort and am committed to protecting and nurtring that is just as much as I crave……crave being uncomfortable, long for something so not what I’m accustomed to and ache for another language to fill me. I’ve tried to shame myself into not thinking about them, telling myself that what I want is selfish, what my body is telling me each time my eyebrow is raised and my heart starts pounding, that those thoughts are for the weak, the uncommitted. I’ve tried, tried to ignore this passion that churns in my tummy, this fire that makes me tiptoe on the line of right and wrong, that all taught me something, I’ve got pretty good balance. I’m sorry but …I just can’t stop wanting more.
Maybe it’s my mid-life deal, (and I have a theory about mid-life…happens when you hit a point in your life, not a certain age) but I find myself taken by fits of want too strong there is no way for me to ignore them. I need more. I will no longer stuff this desire away, will not pretend that I can get all I need from one place, it may work for most…it’s not working for me and I’m fucking tired of limiting myself, punishing myself and living up to what others think should be enough. You float on your cloud, be happy…I’m happy for you, but I want this fire, I want the tiptoeing, I need to smell, taste and feel…more. Fill my body with the flavor of the unfamiliar, fill my mind with discovery and own the memory of each heart pounding, body vibrating second of it. I’ll marinate in my secret moments, relive them over and over. I’ll wear the swagger of a woman that has tasted the fruit of another…and relish in it.
France, you have my whole heart, you will forever be my greatest love…but, Barolo, Rioja and Sherry….there are a few spots available….just sayin’
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8 comments:
You have hit the nail on the head of why we do what we do. Bits and pieces of Spain have captivated me (Bierzo comes to mind, and Galicia). Sicily and Montefaclo have still charm for me. I am astonished with what the South Africans are doing with Chenin Blanc. I've had flings with Port, New Zealand, Australia and Chile - and who knows? - they may once again snag my heart before I shuffle off this mortal coil. Argentina is a mystery - I have tasted samples of elysium that rise so far above the dreck that usually gets imported and I want to know more. Eastern Europe is terra incognita (except for a Tokaji Eszencia 9 puttonyos that blew my mind once). And I hope this doesn't tweak you like punk rock, but I forsee a time in the future, if I live that long, where all I drink is kabinett. But... yes... France.
My Gorgeous Samantha,
I, too, have surrendered to the power of the new, the untasted, the forbidden. I never thought I would, I thought that I was the loyal type, the type who would never stray. But the allure of the untasted was too powerful and I put things in my mouth I never thought I would, filled my nose with scents I'd only had dreams about, dreams that left me spent and satisfied.
And never had any regrets. I used to think I owned wine. But, actually, wine owns me.
I adore you. Lovely work, Darling.
Your HoseMaster
Guess that makes me a wanton hussy cause I have never been able to settle in with just one wine country, wine region, or wine variety for that matter.
Good timing on this blog though as 2 people have asked what my favorite wine is in the past 2 weeks and my answer is one of stunned silence... I have to choose just one? Not possible with wine wanderlust.
One more thing... If the wine business ever goes belly up, I think you have a calling in romance novels! :-) I for one was a bit hot a bothered even though I was pretty sure we were talking about wine...
John,
Nope punk rock bugs me more than Riesling. I am finding that the new trend towards troken wines that Germany is focusing on, like a troken Spatlese, rawr. All the weight of white Burgundy with the purity of Riesling and a bone dry finish...makes me tingly.
Mr HoseMaster sir,
You so get me...
Jess,
Picking one wine to love is a sin. A region I can understand to a degree but man when there is so much to taste, have move you or as Rone said it..."own you" why?! Oh and you should have seen the first draft of this thing...I was squirming, thought I better make it less sex and more passion...to retain all the credibility I have, (eye rolling). In truth I wanted people to "want" not sport wood...glad it worked on at least the girls!
Um that would be Ron...who the hell is Rone anyway? Dammit. Guess its not as bad as the typo my sister caught...wrote neutered instead of nurtured, that was awesome.
Yes, Sam! The passion worked with the girls!!;-)
Vicki,
Yay! Maybe I will post the ubber naughty chest heaving stuff when the boys stop reading....to entice them back.
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