I’ve developed a crush on the guy who works at my local wine store. This was at first quite enjoyable as he began talking to me about wines and making recommendations, and as a result I’ve learned a bit more wine and enjoyed some really nice ones.

The downside of entertaining this crush is that you inevitably look like an alcoholic.

I do not know Mr. Wine Shop’s name. I have no clue how old he is. For all I know, he’s married with two children. Or gay. Or, or, or…I realized today just how ridiculous this charade has become when I counted two unopened bottles of Bordeaux on the kitchen counter and another nice St. Emilion turning sour after being opened two days ago. But I just began to enjoy having the attention from Mr. Wine Shop…and didn’t it seem like maybe he was flirting back, too? Like how his hands tend to touch mine a little bit when handing back my change in cold Euro coins, or how the one time, when he’d spilled a few cents that went spinning on the floor, he apologized profusely? Today, I passed by the shop window (unintentionally, I swear), and couldn’t help but slow down a bit to see if he was in there. He was, and our eyes locked in a moment of recognition.

I awkwardly stopped as an immediate reaction and all in a half-second I took a jerky step forward and a step back, my mind racing. 

>more