In Vino, Veritas...

Well, depending on the varietal, but mostly, yes... wine (or really ANY alcoholic bev) will collapse one's defense so that the truth comes marching out with infinite calamity. 

BUT, what I was really going to write about is my affinity for fancy underpants. I have been a VS patron for many... some... not very many really... years, months, days.... anyway...

I know VS is a poor excuse for truly fine underthangies, but it's what I got here in these United States of 'Merica, so it's where I be. Regardless, someday I hope to have a fine trousseau of silky, handmade, robust thangy accoutrements replete with l'il bows and animal print and whale-bone. 

No doubt my miniscule (not in the puerile way, but few in number way) male readership still puzzles over why we XX types get so drooly over push-ups, and pull-downs, and teeny strappy stuff, and diaphanous flowy  attire. Well, it's all your testosterony (dude, that sounded like a hip-hop word... "you're my testosterony lovah...") fault that we go all limpy when we see that sumptuous costuming design in say a film like "Dangerous Liaisons" or "Pride and Prejudice". Aren't you boyz just a tad salacious when you see those perch-ed and peachy bossoms atop those excessive thread count fabrics?? All gathered and gleaming, heaving and rapturous, delectatious and forbidden parts-is-parts???? Um, yes, even as a devoted hetero, I find myself feeling a tad squishy and weird and tempted and drawn and .... well, you know.

So, no wonder that the rest of us heathern bunch throng at the local boudoirerie to snap up the latest eye-catching wonders.

Too bad, most of mine still sport the tags and lie in the bottom drawer snuggled up to the lavender buds...

Ooooo, I has found one...

Seems the "2" was behind the wine frig. And, given that information, my clever deduction is that Jessie was the "2" kidnapping culprit. The l'il frig is just below the playstand where Jess and Sterl sit in the evenings. No doubt she plucked my "2" away and sequestered it behind said frig knowing that I rarely clean there. My objective with said frig is usually more towards the front and inspecting/removing contents therein. Nevertheless, having noticed that the frig was doing little to keep my red at a comfy 54deg, I peeked behind to ascertain the ickiness of the filter screen and by gumski, there was my "2". Sitting pleasantly on the counter waiting to be discovered.

Ah, "2"... so nice to have you back.

I once had a Fantasy..

that I would meet a man, a tall man with an accent, and we would date and fall in love and have explosive kisses, and proceed to an engagement that we could announce with fervor, and then off  to an exotic wedding in a faraway place and thence to  marriage. 

Alas, I got it wrong this time 'round. And what I fear (although the admittance of such might be a self-fulfilling prophecy...) is that my destiny lies suchly. Despite the fact that I embrace the fears from my past, it would seem that merely acknowledging them does not necessarily dispel them. On the other hand and from a practical standpoint, I witness my family and peers in relationships that are fraught with struggle, deceit, exaggeration, and disappointment. Is it any wonder that I shy from commitment on a subconscious level???

Indeed, I must admit that my ideas regarding man/woman affairs revolve around unrealistic expectations built into me by the media.. but do they really??