Picture it – Charlotte, NC, 2006, a young couple head to the mountains for their first romantic weekend away. Full of anticipation and excitement, she meticulously plans a perfect weekend. The cabin should have a hot tub that overlooks the valley and a fireplace by which to drink wine. Frankie’s has the best Italian food (his favorite) and exactly the right ambiance to elevate the feels. Then there’s the perfect coffee shop, the perfect hiking trail, the perfect sunset, the perfect road trip playlist… you get the idea.
They arrive at the cabin and things move with gleaming finesse. He loves her outfit, she loves his jokes. Dinner proceeds with a sequence to rival Lady and the Tramp. The wine flows like the electricity between them. Is it time to head home? Oooh yes.
Twinkling Christmas lights float above the hot tub, producing the dim hue of lust. They open another bottle wine which elicits a bravery they can't resist. Without hesitation they move inside and become entangled by carnality and adventurous hands. She feels desire. She feels heat. She feels the wine betraying her.
How could she excuse herself while still preserving the veil of intimacy? Could she feign a noise outside? Maybe fetch a ""surprise"" from her overnight bag? But there's no time, the wine is decisive and treasonous. It has a will of its own and it's advancing quickly. Then it happens. The wine erupts straight from her mouth to his... insert funny euphemism for male genitalia.
Mortified? Not even the same universe of emotion. But this year we’ll celebrate our 12 year anniversary. Life happens. Roll with it.
Feel free to hit me up with your best "life happens" stories!
Megan
Atlanta, GA
[email protected]