A few months ago a friend and I went to a wine bar in Neenah. It was only about a month after Bill and I had broken up and I was still in this weird limbo between not wanting to talk about it and wanting to talk about it all day everyday. I think I limited myself to a few moments of talking about it with him, but then I allowed the subject to be changed. We drank malbec and shared a small margherita pizza. While I chewed fresh mozzarella and tomato, I looked at the promotional cards at the table. There was one for a Singles’ Night on the first Wednesday of every month. I made a note to check on that in a few weeks when I felt more optimistic about love and the weird battle between men and women.
So on Sunday afternoon, I checked on that event. The next Singles’ Night is tonight. I decided to go. I’m still going. It starts in an hour. I’m putting on a skirt and heels to hang out with handsome winos. I have a feeling the handsome winos will be apple-shaped middle-aged women, but who knows, maybe there will be a handsome millionaire who will want to buy me ice wine. Oh, I’m also going by myself since the majority of my girl friends are in relationships. Also, I figure that if I went with a friend, I would spend the entire time talking to her and not meeting people like I’m supposed to be doing.
A few weeks ago, my friend Nicole and I exchanged first drafts of personal essays we were working on. This morning, she emailed me thoughts on my draft. It was about the first time I saw Bill after we broke up. It’s a 15-page rambling account of that afternoon that seemed to last forever. I hadn’t read it since I wrote it over a month ago. She gave me some really insightful feedback and some encouraging thoughts on it. It inspired me to reread the thing.
So I did.
Two hours before I’m supposed to be presenting myself as a charming and beautiful 20-something. It’s not an essay I’m willing to post here, because frankly, though it has some really nice parts, it’s nowhere near presentable as an essay. I’ll just say that the afternoon was a wild ride of emotions that ended with me in the bathtub with chocolate and multiple wine coolers. It’s not an event I feel like revisiting.
Hahaha, I don’t feel like revisiting it? That must be why I wrote a 15-page essay about it!
Anyway, first it made me tear up, because even though it’s really rough, I still did a pretty good job of capturing my emotions of the afternoon (at least in a way that makes my throat tighten up). Then it made me want to stay home and revise it. And then it made me want to buy a bottle of wine and revise it. Finally I realized I would drink the wine, not revise the essay, and probably end up in bed by 9:30. So I decided to continue with my original plan to meet a handsome 30-something millionaire with whom I’ll have an exciting affair that may or may not end in a marriage that will allow me to sit around all day, drinking coffee and wine while blogging and appreciating the infinity scroll on Pinterest.
Because if handsome millionaires hang out anywhere, it’s wine bars in Neenah, Wisconsin.