Tag: love

Straight Up: Who Needs A Drink?

Conversation starter.
Conversation starter.

Say it straight or it will come out crooked. ~Dane Kolbeck~

Sometimes you just have to say it straight. And sometimes that is terrifying. Well, for me, always it is terrifying.

That’s not 100% accurate.

There are some things that will always be easy to say. To wit, for me, I have no problem speaking up about the following:

  • Racism/Homophobia/Sexism
  • Fundamentalists of any religion attempting to witness
  • Bullies
  • General assholery that includes but is not limited to elitist bullshit, overt hipster cynicism, high-brow condescension, etc.

However.

Some things are very, very hard for me to say. Can’t you tell by the veiled terms of this post?

Get at the point, you might be saying. Just spit it out.

The problem is this: in the past I have just spit it out, with sometimes-disastrous results. Speaking off-the-cuff and on-the-fly is not necessarily the best course of action for me these days. I like to be more measured in my responses, lest I send a nuclear warhead to settle what might best be handled by a fly swatter.

Or some such.

I want to say what I mean. Make promises I can keep. Be kind. Be honest and true to myself and the person I am speaking to. Recently, I have been unable to speak when spoken to in certain situations. The context of this does not really matter. What matters is that I have lost words in much the same way as I have continued to lose memories, a slow leaking of the past (and now the present) sliding away from my brain.

When I try to force myself to speak, everything comes out wrong. Like speaking-in-tongues wrong, quite literally – garbled sounds, half-started sentences, a mash of sibilant consonants and murky vowels sliding across my lips. #Confusion

So then I get quiet.

You know how you aren’t supposed to be afraid of the dog that barks? It’s true. The one that is barking is not the one you worry about. It’s the silent one, slinking towards you, that should be feared.

When I stop talking, people worry.

There has to be a way for me to come to the middle. At the risk of being one of those douches who quotes their therapists, if she were here she might ask me what happens to trigger this sudden loss of words.

To begin to consider this is also speech-defying.

Thus, we find ourselves again at an impasse. #DamnedIfIDoDamnedIfIDont

I find in these cases, as in most cases, that a cocktail works wonders. Not multiples. Just one.

And since you are having just one to get things flowing, it ought to be delicious. Although I am a fan of bourbon, neat, for conversational lubrication it is best to sip something slightly less boozy.

Enter Lillet Rouge.

My friend Kerry introduced me to Lillet, a crisp, slightly fruity libation that is delicious when teeth-achingly cold and sipped by itself or with a splash of similarly-chilled gin.

Lillet Rouge is Lillet’s redder, earthier, spicier cousin. Perfect for the heart of darkness that is winter and deep conversations that must be had, reluctantly, haltingly.

And since it is February, a month that simultaneously screams love and death in the Kolbeck household, red seems a perfect color. And ginger beer is appropriate anytime of year, but the bite of this one will wake you up, keep you focused, and make you talk.

Drink this with Florence + the Machine in the background, but just lightly. You know, so you can talk.

Redheaded Ginger

2 ounces Lillet Rouge

4 ounces ginger beer

splash of grapefruit juice OR dash of grapefruit bitters

Two possibilities here:

  1. Pour Lillet over ice in a collins glass, top with ginger beer and splash of grapefruit/bitters
  2. Combine Lillet/grapefruit/bitters in cocktail shaker and shake 30 seconds. Strain into martini glass, add ginger beer and serve with grapefruit slice.

Either way, makes one cocktail. Perfect for talking.

What do you do when the words just won’t come out?

 

 

 

Vegetarians: What Are They Good For?

He is in here somewhere...
He is in here somewhere…

I have met a boy.

A man, really. A boy would be pretty squicky.

But it feels like a high school crush. Not the high school I went to or the way I went to high school, though. Studied indifference + avoiding all responsibilities = no fluttery, butterfly feelings for a boy in my high school. Too busy trying to alternately melt into the background and get the fuck out.

I am talking high school with the montages of far-off stares and private smiles. Notes left in lockers and walks in the woods, holding hands. Cozy dates with fluffy blankets (these montages always have the best throws/blankets and sweaters/coats). Sideways glances and actually giving a crap what you look like when you walk out the door.

Mixed tapes.

Courtship.

Except I have felt too old for courtship and was pretty sure that I had already had my last first kiss. My last first anything. (nudge, wink, cheeky reference which isn’t even veiled and everyone knows means sex, so what the hell?)

Which is tough to swallow, yes, when that whole thing goes to shit. The idea of any new firsts of any kind has been horrific, not because of grief or any of that but because OH MY GOD. Do I really have to go through all of that shit again?

Because life isn’t like the high school with the montages. It’s uncomfortable and messy and complicated and there are things to be navigated and disclosed that I haven’t told anyone in 16 years. There are the adolescent things that I haven’t thought about in 16 years, plus adult things like money, kids, blah, blah, blah.

And thinking about those things is no fun, really.

Which is why, mostly, I’m not. Truly.

I find this boy, the same one I shared my Pappy with (and no, that’s not a reference to anything, but I guess it could be if you wanted to try really hard), interesting. And not in a euphemistic way either. Like, keep-me-up-at-night-I-wonder-what-he-thinks-about-this interesting.

The kind of interesting that is intriguing to me. The kind that hasn’t been around in a very, very long time.

The best part about this boy is that he is so interesting to me that if things don’t progress to anything else for any reason, I would enjoy him anyway. He is awfully pretty to me, though, so there’s that, but I like what he does, and who he is, thus far.

Though he has one flaw that I have discovered, right away.

He is a vegetarian.

Now I am all about an alternative diet. I am annoyingly (to some) gluten-free without a celiac diagnosis (fuck off, haters. I just feel better, okay?). I grew up with vegetarians (when dinner was mostly dirt and grass). The Teenager has a vegan friend. My cousin Jennifer (and other relatives I know) are allergic to shellfish.

I understand no meat, spiritually, morally, and physically.

But no homemade chicken stock? No crab? No fish? What the hell?

He’s not even overly fond of cheese or eggs, both of which can be quite astonishing by themselves when cooked perfectly.

No, this one requires something special, and I am at a loss just now.

Possibly because I have been awake since 1:30 a.m., lying in bed, twirling my hair, and wondering if I should even be writing this post in the first place.

So.

Here it is, this post, with a request for suggestions. What should I try first?