Bottle


It was just a bottle of wine. Actually one each… It’s something I hear us say every now and then on a Sunday morning while hiding behind the sunglasses, watching our girls play soccer, standing in the cold. We both giggle and immediately feel sorry for not having had more discipline.

“You know that it’s only you that makes me drink so much?” As if I force her to empty her glass or to refill it… But I know kind of what she means. It is the combination of the two of us that is dangerous. When we catch up, we catch up for early dinners. The kids disappear, the guys get along well, conversation flows and so does the wine. Giggles, laughter, food and the wine.

I didn’t drink at all until I was way over 20. Nothing. No alcohol. And I never turned in what we used to describe as war drinkers (it’s a very direct translation). The kind of people who just empty drink after drink without even enjoying it. The ones that need to be drunk to have fun or whatever they consider having fun. The ones that pour down the kind of alcohol that doesn’t taste nice at all but gets you knocked out in no time. This was never me. I always found it a waste of time, money, your liver and brain cells.

I’m the kind of person who enjoys a glass of wine (or more in the right company). I enjoy it with a good meal, having a good time. And that’s what we usually have, my friend and I.

Now to get back to her “accusation”… Yes, we tend to go overboard together. We tend to not realize that we are on our second bottle hours into our evening together. It’s always fun though. As I said, we giggle, we laugh, we have a great time and our husbands get us home safe. The kids make their jokes the next day when they realize that Mommy is not as quick as usually and the two of us suffer through the morning, in the cold, glad we don’t do those dinners on a weekly basis, promising each other that next time will be different… Until next time…

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