. . . can be interesting. Once in a while we'll be at a place that actually serves booze. So as I drink wine, I can watch him consuming vodka. He will keep up with me, even if I have a second glass of wine. I don't mean that he has a shot of vodka for each glass I drink. I mean that he can literally stay the course, ounce for ounce. Without slurring his words at the end of the meal. I mean, he's built like a football player, but it's still interesting to behold.

The last time it happened I remarked on it: that for each glass of wine I consumed, he'd had the equivalent amount of hard liquor.

"Oh, yes," he conceded. "But then, I'm much bigger than you are."

True enough. I saw a gleam in his eyes, however. The barest sort of enigmatic look. I read it as "you have no idea what I'm thinking about. It might be vodka, but it could even be something like sex." It was that amused, aloof look males like to assume.

And I know him better than anyone. He was thinking about vodka.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:26 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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