Simple Syrup

Sometimes you stumble upon a perfectly unexpected and delicious cocktail. You wouldn’t think that the ingredients would work together but somehow, they do. Like muddled basil, watermelon and lime juice with a healthy slug of white rum on ice and topped with soda water and a dash of black pepper. Or equal parts of Powell & Mahoney’s Ginger Cocktail Mixer  and Marker’s Mark whiskey on ice with good quality (non-sweet) ginger beer. Unpredictably tasty.

You seemed far too sophisticated for my modest palate. Kind of like Hypnotiq – the startlingly blue liqueur. Even it’s description is intimidating: A Refreshing Blend of Premium French Vodka, Exotic Fruit Juices, and a Touch of Cognac. I think this actually describes you quite well too – A Refreshing Blend of Boyish Charm, Exceedingly Good Looks and a Touch of Danger.  I remember gazing at you in some wonder while dismissing any possibility of any shaking or stirring!

Perhaps meeting at a wedding somehow upped my Wine Spectator score. Or you were just in the mood for the unexpected.  The result was quite intriguing – effervescent, just sweet enough, somewhat spicy and wholly refreshing.  It was not obvious why it worked. Just that it did.

When I meet old lovers, I check them out to see if they still have the qualities that attracted me to them and if they have remained nice human beings.  Then, for extra credit, I look to see if I still seem attractive to them. If both parts are true, I tell myself that even back then, my instinct and taste weren’t off. It’s a good feeling. Most often, there is no spark, just a tacit acknowledgement of time and affection shared.

With you, it’s always a rush. Like we each have new flavors to try out in the mix as well as make up for the time we’ve been apart by tasting the oldies and goodies.  Inevitably, reality intervenes and we part.  Instead of finding this bittersweet, I’m learning to savor the heady moments.

I can’t put a name to our cocktail or list the ingredients. Just an evolving combination of two people who met by chance.  It is just that Simple.

Please sir, may I have a Mulligan?

If I promise to keep the beginning and the end unchanged, please, please could I have a do-over on the middle parts of my first love? I swear I’ll keep it G-rated and no butterflies will be harmed during my travel.

It’s a pretty simple really – I want to fall in love with the same tall, cool dish but accompanied by some traditional trappings. Not be confined to meeting & kissing furtively in the dark under a perishing cement bicycle stand in college. Nothing too fancy – just actual dates – in public (gasp). Perhaps even hold hands. And, – oh yes!  -the classic package deal too please- dinner followed by a movie. A proper romance, dammit!

Is it too much to ask to fully experience the irreprissible ebullience that youthful love brings ? To mount displays of utter silliness stemming from pure infatuation ? To mindlessly gush about his perfection? To ask in a million different ways “How much do you love me?”  Fulfill a desire to be wooed? Give in to the sheer thrill of the physicality of first love?

I’d jettison any sense of moral turpitude and a complete disregard for my environment’s censure. Most of all, my youthful self would grow a spine (and while we’re growing, larger boobs wouldn’t hurt either. But we digress), ignore the oppressive social norms of my world and instead, love with abandon. For heaven’s sake, you experience first love only once. Explode.

Giving in to the glorious feeling of being completely in love for the first time can only have positive long-term outcomes. Even when it ends – which it most likely will – you’ll still have had that exhilarating experience.

The alternative route I’d so brilliantly chosen – littered with guilt and repression, is not recommended. I never allowed myself to confess my feelings fully. This, despite knowing that he really liked me and realizing that I was completely smitten.

When I got dumped, it was devastating and it took me ages to regroup. Years later, I had the ignominy of hearing him say ” I never knew how you really felt”. As  I said, not recommended.

There is just one little wrinkle I’d request upon returning to the present – instead of being referred to as “an old friend from college”,  I’d like the official title of “ex-girlfriend”. Please, sir?