DH and I just spent our first day alone (like, together, and without kids) in approximately two and a half years. That's like, a seriously long time. Long enough that at first, I think we sortof both looked at each other and thought, 'Who are you?' But we ended up having a super-duper awesome time. DH even humoured me enough to go on several winery tours and endure wine tasting after wine tasting. How sweet is that? I mean, he doesn't even like wine!
is it time? is it time?
Or at least, he never did before. But on our little getaway, between the swishings and the gurglings, DH arrived at something of an epiphany: it's not that he doesn't like wine. It's that he only likes really good wine. Any wines he happened to have tasted earlier on in life simply didn't live up to his - heretofore undiscovered - exacting standards.
it's time?! don't worry sweetie, you're going to be amazing
I almost couldn't believe my luck. I dropped hundreds of dollars on wine, and he didn't even bat an eye.
come on, you can do it honey
At first I thought - alright! Something we'll have in common, aside from a mortgage and, you know, some offspring. We can drink wine together. It'll be fun!
just a little more, you're doing great
And then this transpired:
DH: *gasp!* You can't drink pinot noir out of a mug!
Me: But it holds more than a glass.
DH: Oh. My. God. Is that all it's about for you? What about the colour? The clarity? The viscosity?! It's like I don't even know you anymore. (flounces off)
Me: Jeez, relax, it's not like I was going to dunk cookies in it or anything.
Omigod omigod, you did it, it's here, it's a...
Which probably should have set off some alarm bells for me, but as mentioned there was a mug of wine involved at the time. So it took me a few more incidences of a similar nature before I really cottoned on to the fact there might be a problem:
"You can't open that yet, it needs to be cellared!"
"No no, dear, that doesn't really pair with taco salad. I'll just tuck it safely back in the fridge and pour you a nice glass of water instead."
"Why don't we have a proper decanter in this godforsaken house?"
"You're holding your glass incorrectly - grasp it by the stem. The stem!"
... it's a wine snob?
Now in a case like this, the natural response would be to throw the hubby out with the bathwater. Instead, I just held his head under it for a few moments while I collected my thoughts. Because, in the grand scheme of marital issues, this was nothing a good old-fashioned heart-to-heart couldn't fix.
Me: Darling, you know how, after all these years together, we're comfortable enough that we are truly free to be ourselves with one another?
DH: Like how you laugh at me all the time?
Me: With, dear. Laugh with.
Me: Well, that's what it's like with me and wine. Wine and I are tight. Wine doesn't mind if I drink it through a straw, or pair it with a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast - that's just how our relationship works. I respect that you're not at that place yet, but you have to understand that I am, and all your rules are seriously cork-blocking things for me.
DH: I'm sorry, dear. This is just all so new to me.
Me: I know, but with time you'll get there. Until then, I'm here to help. Merlot?