So I enjoy a drink from time to time. (All right, pretty frequently). After a long day at work, it’s just so nice to come home, have a glass of wine, or a cider or beer, and if it was an especially tough day something with rum in it. Plus, as Hemingway discovered, a little bit of alcohol releases all those creative juices. Anyway, I’m not ashamed to say that I have about a drink a day, on average. And yes, it’s always good alcohol; you want wine recommendations that are both well priced and tasty, I’ve got ’em! (On a side note, at my last doctor’s visit the MD kindly informed me that Medicare suggests no more than 3 drinks per week. Hilarious! They must not have a very stressful job… or else they’re on some other kind of drug.) In short, I’m neither a lightweight nor a drunkard, just a one-glass-a-day kind of gal.
Except for Friday night. There were four of us, and in the course of the evening we started with champagne cocktails, then moved onto finishing a bottle of Thursday’s already-opened white, and after that two delicious reds. At some point the other two went to bed (after a long and fascinating conversation, which was I’m sure in the process of solving all the world’s problems. Too bad I barely remember it), and my husband had tottered off to the hot tub. After going to change into my swimsuit, I realized I couldn’t walk in a straight line. The clasp of my necklace had become Rubic’s-Cube-like in complexity. My head was kind of swimming. To my utter surprise, I realized I was drunk.
What? That doesn’t happen to grown-ups! I hadn’t been this way since an ill-advised experiment with absinthe in 2009. (Word of caution: I do not recommend this. You will end up in bed with somebody you weren’t expecting, and it will be totally weird.) Wow. Drunk. But, okay, I thought, and weaving and hanging on the handrails, I too went to the hot tub. My husband and I lasted about five steamy minutes in the water before taking our light-headed, befuddled, totally inebriated selves up to bed.
Where, to my thrill and delight – and of course without really knowing what was going on, thanks to the Cabernet – we dove into sexual explorations way crazier than anything we’d done before, even in those heady getting-to-know-you days of years ago. (And no, I won’t tell you what they were; I’m not THAT pervy! Also, I think I forgot some of it…) Suffice to say that this was a delicious reminder of how a person can surprise you, even after being married for a while and having seen all his dirty laundry. It was a ridiculous amount of fun.
Of course we slept badly and woke up cotton-mouthed, dehydrated, and hung-over. Blearily, in the morning, we agreed that we should definitely do that again… only without the wine.
Yet the wine was what started it all. Overindulgence, letting yourself go, can be exactly what you need sometimes. Go ahead, get drunk. Be surprised at what you might do. Wine takes away expectations and opens doors to all kinds of possibilities. Just don’t do it very often. And believe me, you should stay away from absinthe.