A Letter To Food And Wine – Do We Need To Break Up?

Hate is a hideous and an unforgiving word. You can’t come back from that.

But food and wine – you let me down.

I bet on you. Not only that, I studied you for years, screamed your name, stayed up nights crying over you, over indulged in your glory, lost relationships because of your conniving nature – in the end, did really bad things just for your approval.

It hasn’t always been a honeymoon, but we had it good for awhile. You made me who I am in a way; teaching me to speak up, have an opinion even if it isn’t popular, you combined the artist and the analytic, and found the humor in the fact that no one really gets me. That is what comfort really means – hence the “comfort food” imagery consistently thrown out to make us feel better about devouring a plate of mac and cheese. We had amenity together – held hands through it all. I was content and flourished with you at my side – total team moments.

But listen, we gotta fix this relationship. Just because you impress the notion that I will be “ok” in your glory doesn’t mean you can take advantage of me. I got your number, even if it took me up until now to realize we aren’t good together. I need you, I get it, but I don’t feel you need me.

I realize this is my fault. I let you in without any hesitation or concern. I didn’t have a long term idea of what a goal with you really meant. I saw it going bad and not only didn’t stop it, but did everything to hasten our untimely departure from one another. There were no boundaries and no concern of my health. I allowed peers to inform me I wasn’t “what you are looking for”, or that there is “another plan out there” for me and you. You are my plan, you are my intention for all things good in my life, and I’m not walking away empty handed.

As the responsible adult I am, I refuse to shame you. Trust me, I hold myself back every day. I have the ability to report all of your unseemly stories – don’t forget, I know where the bodies are buried. (I always loved that analogy) But my future beckons, and in the end, nothing comes from sour story telling.

Good comes from different ways of thinking, doing, socializing, working, not working, and being. Good comes from me flipping the coin and seeing your good side. It’s not going to be easy – I’m already in a state of panic. But I’ve put in my time, and I’m REALLY GOOD at managing our stained past. I’m not asking for favors, leads, or a wink of approval from you. I am raw, naked in a way, but wearing an amour. No more sitting in the board room listening – I’m ready to run the show.

To celebrate, we won’t eat cake. The bottle staring at me on my desk will not get opened. My kitchen will be cleared of planned lunches, as well as my dance card of wine dinners and bar crawls. I may loose some of our mutual friends, but they probably weren’t the best choice of allies in the first place. (How many have called to say hello? Betcha you answered that quickly…)

Don’t fret – I’m still here and still curious. I am that girlfriend you can’t get rid of. I’ll answer the questions and ask the questions and figure out all the answers. I’m still going to write about you, read about you, watch you on social media (on occasion), and try to completely take advantage of the good nature that resides somewhere deep in your soul. Don’t believe I am at ease when you read my blogs, posts, texts, pictures – they are just smoke and mirrors. I am looking for a deeper connection. We can have a deeper connection.

I forgot something – wait for the comeback. Mine will be epic.

—– my journal, January 1, 2019