Loving Love (and Wine)

I don’t know if I have yet to have even one great love. I’ve crushed on a handful. I’ve longed for most of my lovers. I’ve lusted after several others.  I’ve been heartbroken by three.  I am enamored with the concept of love, but I have yet to experience simultaneously being loved and being in love.

The problem that I keep running into is one of trust.  Trusting someone enough to be completely and totally vulnerable around them.  Maybe it’s that I always have one foot out the door and an expectation that all relationships will end.  By the time I start to open up to my would be partner, they’ve already checked out and are looking to cut their losses.  It’s a vicious cycle that leads to the demise of my relationships right around the sixth month mark.

Perhaps I should come to terms with it and finally embrace the role of the neighborhood cat lady.  It seems like a warm and furry existence, but also one full of kibble and hairballs.  However, it also seems like a life that would lead me to drink more than I already do.  We’re not talking about the curious BLT martini (complete with bacon salt) of the Gilt Club or the delightfully refreshing cucumber mojito from Papa Haydn's Jo Bar.  We’re talking full on boxes of wine that I would most likely buy from the closest Grocery Outlet.

Oh, blurg.  Maybe I need to think about this one some more before I decide whether to drown my sorrows in Franzia zinfandel.