I, I Need To Know

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; onions, lemons, seared flesh, 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 tragically wrong.



I’m not romantic by nature but there is something fascinating about the way these things happen. The way one look, one touch, one unspoken but inferred and saturated line of words can peel off a layer of fear, skin, armor, 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, feeling your power overtake me and letting myself soften and squish beneath your weight. I had let my mind spin about in 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 stokes the want, 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 each open bit of 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, to Us 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 three hour second just before your lips touch? The way your heart pounds and breathing gets more labored and desperate with each tiny inch closer to touching, flicking, biting, shaking and the inevitable prying of the lips. Eyes closed, mouth open, welcoming, wanting and waiting...





Now there has always been all kinds of chatter on the internets about bloggers, wine critics and credibility, 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... craved, lusted for and spent hours devouring from afar....finally feeling them wet and beneath you or firm and above you, with the lights off. Would it mean as much if you had no idea who it was? It may not change the actual physical sensation but part of the pleasure is in the, having, for some of us anyway. 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 Scarlett Johansson…change anything? Would it have changed anything if the lights were on BEFORE?! Okay, I’m being sexist, for the ladies lets imagine Denzel Washington, The HoseMaster of Wine, Adam Levine, (had to look that up, Sexiest Man Alive? Hesh up)  or George Clooney…although speaking as a hetero female, Scarlett? Dude, so down...she makes my flesh all pink and puckery and junk...

Spent a night years ago picking these wines apart...blind. Sat at a paid for dinner while a bunch of more-money-than-me jackwads pissed and picked apart these sensual, rarely seen this open treats. Me fumbling with my pen and even then wondering why I was there. You procured these wines, invited all of us to taste...

 In the interest of, I don't know what. Honesty? 

Honestly, had I known what I was rolling about in my mouth, I might have taken a fucking second to pay just a bit more attention. 

If I had only known....