Ter.rif.ic.
Tonight, we went to a dinner party of sorts, where spiceboy provided the food (an Ethiopian chicken curry called Doro Wat) and a very charming man named Pierre (pronounced Peer to all of us uncultured Americans) provided many lovely Bordeaux wines from his family's chateau.
Pierre told me about the winemaking process, which his family has been involved in for three generations now, and he said, "When you have the right wine, it just hits you, and you just know it's perfect," and then he tilted his head back and sighed, and said:
It is ter. rif.ic.
And I like to think I knew exactly what he meant.
And then we all ate dinner, and the food and the wine was just too much for me, and before dessert was served, I knew I needed to walk home and breathe some fresh (exhaust-filled) air. And so spiceboy and I stumbled on home, full of Ethiopian curry and French wine, and I'm slightly drunk right now, so please forgive me.
On the way home, we stopped in the bodega on the corner of 69th and Second to buy water, and spiceboy waited outside. And inside the store, Barry White was playing on the radio. And so I paid for my jug of water, and the Korean man behind the counter smiled at me as I hummed along with the music, or perhaps he smiled at me in the way he smiles at all slightly drunk girls buying water at his store.
And so I walked out of the bodega and handed spiceboy the jug of water and we walked toward home and I sang some Barry White:
I know so many ways that I...
And it wasn't until after we'd crossed 69th and turned down 70th right next door to the Stinky Beach that spiceboy caught on. But when he did, he sang, at the top of his lungs:
...could love you 'til the day I die...
And the few people at the outdoor tables turned away from their nearly empty drinks and stared, so I sang:
...you're all I'm living for...
and spiceboy sang: I'll be yours for ever more...
me: you're the first...
spiceboy: you're the last..
me: my everything!
And by this time, we were at the steps to our apartment, and making a spectacle and giggling and yelling, and he paused for a moment to kiss me at the base of our steps before unlocking the door, and the air was crisp but not cold and quiet but not still and we each wrapped our arms around the other's waist and we made our way inside.
Ter.rif.c.
Pierre told me about the winemaking process, which his family has been involved in for three generations now, and he said, "When you have the right wine, it just hits you, and you just know it's perfect," and then he tilted his head back and sighed, and said:
It is ter. rif.ic.
And I like to think I knew exactly what he meant.
And then we all ate dinner, and the food and the wine was just too much for me, and before dessert was served, I knew I needed to walk home and breathe some fresh (exhaust-filled) air. And so spiceboy and I stumbled on home, full of Ethiopian curry and French wine, and I'm slightly drunk right now, so please forgive me.
On the way home, we stopped in the bodega on the corner of 69th and Second to buy water, and spiceboy waited outside. And inside the store, Barry White was playing on the radio. And so I paid for my jug of water, and the Korean man behind the counter smiled at me as I hummed along with the music, or perhaps he smiled at me in the way he smiles at all slightly drunk girls buying water at his store.
And so I walked out of the bodega and handed spiceboy the jug of water and we walked toward home and I sang some Barry White:
I know so many ways that I...
And it wasn't until after we'd crossed 69th and turned down 70th right next door to the Stinky Beach that spiceboy caught on. But when he did, he sang, at the top of his lungs:
...could love you 'til the day I die...
And the few people at the outdoor tables turned away from their nearly empty drinks and stared, so I sang:
...you're all I'm living for...
and spiceboy sang: I'll be yours for ever more...
me: you're the first...
spiceboy: you're the last..
me: my everything!
And by this time, we were at the steps to our apartment, and making a spectacle and giggling and yelling, and he paused for a moment to kiss me at the base of our steps before unlocking the door, and the air was crisp but not cold and quiet but not still and we each wrapped our arms around the other's waist and we made our way inside.
Ter.rif.c.
posted by east side girl at 11:31 PM
1 Comments:
Seriously? You're gone? Now who can I find to make me feel better about my own dating misadventures?
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