In vino motherfucking veritas.
Reopening my relationship with Skyspook has brought up a lot of emotions, many of them good, some of them bad, on both sides. However, even the bad has been largely productive — like sweeping under area rugs that haven’t been lifted for a while, cleaning up old trauma, childhood messes, minor slights.
Through all of this, we’ve had days when we’re both pure amygdala and id, and in this, we’ve found solace any way we can.
Rather fortuitously, my inveterate bestie, the venerable Fluffy Sama suggested a wine subscription box service to us not long before we opened, Bright Cellars. The premise of this service is to combine user feedback along with big data to determine wine recommendations that are based on correlations that may not be evident in whatever is taught in sommelier school. As Skyspook had become rather fond of wine during his recent month-long work trip to South Africa, this was thought an easy and cost-effective way to continue exploring his nascent oenophilia. Besides, wine is fucking awesome.
With the poly sea change, wine time has become a vital part of our reconnection and our processing. We’ve made the commitment to drink the 4 bottles of wine together that come every month. If we simply can’t make that time for one another, we’ll know we’re doing something wrong and that it needs to change. Furthermore, it was pointed out to me by a poly friend lately that Skyspook and I try to “out-nice” each other a bit, and in our consideration for one another’s feelings, we can tiptoe around issues to the point where nothing gets said. Wine has a twofold purpose here — first, it turns us both into Stage 5 blurters so that the truth is even spoken, and second, it dulls the sting of whatever unpleasant thing is said.
Besides, wine is fucking awesome.