In the form of a glass of wine.
Because if it’s one thing my daddy did? It’s teach us all how to love good wine.
At 16 I raided the wine cellar with my friends, and we drank some very, very expensive wine…
I’m lucky he didn’t kill me for it. As a mother, I’d have a hard time not throttling the life out of my children for doing the same.
30+ year old red… and plenty of it. We had no idea what we were doing. It was all just fun and games at that point, and sneaking out with one of my <sorry Dad> father’s prized bottles of wine was just one of the many mistakes I made.
We realized it one night, sitting in the graveyard with a bunch of cute boys, drinking straight out of the dusty bottle.
T- Hey how come it says “Happy Anniversary” on the label?
My heart froze in my chest… OH FUCK. We were on the second bottle. I started looking at the labels and realized… Ohhhhh…. that we were drinking some very important stuff.
I still feel bad about it, because I never got caught. He never said a word… and I never touched another bottle.
But the damage was done… and I was ruined forever for cheap bitter wine.
After a solid day of laundry, dishes, mommyhood & work… I was exhausted… and craving Mr. Mystery sighting.
My little sister is the ultimate wing chick. No brakes… no judgments… just yes, yes & yes.
Down the stairs and there he is. A walking example of all my daddy issues, come to life.
I grew up in the kitchen, and my dad ruined me for boys who think dinner can come from a box. Watching a man cook is at the top of my foreplay list. Just reading a great menu can leave me flushed and breathless.
I’m a slut when it comes to a man who knows food. I admit it. If he knows more than I do in the kitchen? I’m done for. It’s right up there with oral sex in my book.
So when he smiles at me and asks me what I’d like to drink… I grin at him and tell him to choose for me.
My dad always ordered for me. I still hate ordering for myself. I love a man that can take charge… and this is precisely that guy.
He pours me a glass of wine and it’s fantastic.
It reminds me of the stuff we stole from the cellar as kids.
Yummy… on so very many levels. Sigh…
Good form dictates I have to get out of there gracefully, but not before I realized I’m in over my head with this guy.
He knows too much… and I’m smart enough to recognize it.
Some mysteries are better left unsolved.