PROMPTuesday #25: Giggle Over Spilled Wine

First things, first. If you haven't done so already, please click on over and leave a Happy Birthday comment here because I am now a 48-year-old comment 'ho that's how to get your name in the hat to win in my Birthday Pottery and Cool Stuff Giveaway (the deadline to comment and enter is 12AM PST on Saturday, October 11):

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Now, on to the actual post du jour.

Deb at San Diego Momma is hosting PROMPTuesday #25: The Wine's Drunk, But the Memories Remain

Deb's Prompt: Describe a lovely (or horrible, if you run that way) drink you shared with a lover/friend/enemy/etc. The drink could be wine or coffee or Jamba Juice. BUT, the drink should have been life-changing in some way. Share the story as a vignette, poem, one-liner, however you like.

Deb's Rules: No rules. (Woo hoo!)

Giggle Over Spilled Wine

I brought a picnic basket because Detached McSuave had coveted box seats. I packed a corkscrew, carefully selected table linens, and brought along stemmed glasses. But then nothing about the sustenance in the picnic basket turned out right. Really, it was a perfect metaphor for how it was with McSuave in general. The baguette was stale, the pate was grainy, and the cheese did not stand alone. And there was wine. Red, red wine.

He opened the bottle and poured. We each sipped from our glasses. I immediately realized that the wine had a slightly acidic quality. It had been in my cupboard too long. I should have bought a fresh bottle; he had box seats after all. I was about to comment, but then noticed the unspoken disparagement that flit across his eyes. The circuitous conversation that typically flowed between us did not, so I tried to rally, as I tend to do. I chirped and babbled and attempted cheery conversation marked with animated expressions. And then my animated expressions knocked over his wine glass. A large, red, wet stain covered his pants, mostly on his crotch and upper thighs. I handed him my linen napkin, but he might have noticed the unspoken amusement that flit across my eyes.

There we all were at the Hollywood Bowl. You were sitting somewhere else with someone else, and I was sitting in those box seats with McSuave. It would be a couple of years before we would sit at the Hollywood Bowl together. And it would be a couple of years after that before we’d put two and two together and figure out that we’d both been at the Hollywood Bowl that same night. There to see a movie on the Bowl’s big screen, but seventeen years later neither one of us remembers the name of the film.