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"Love and Italian Red"
We worked as reporters at the University of Washington some years ago. Howard was just like me - driven and guided by the internal "right" as journalists to expose wrong-doing. We lived and breathed journalism 24 hours a day. Our motto was our mantra - "The public has a right to know." But this was college, and spring time, and I wanted to gaze into his big, brown eyes, sip a glass of wine and slip into something more comfortable. I agonized for weeks on a plan for a romantic dinner to win his heart and mind through food and wine. "How about coming over to my place for dinner next week," I said casually, knowing I would keel over with a heart attack in the next few seconds. "I've been researching wines from Italy and thought we could taste one. Maybe have some pasta." Romance was hardly a strong point for me. I didn't know Howard well, but I imagined many things about him. I waited for an answer, hearing an internal clock echoing in my ears as my blood pressure forced a pink flush in my face. After all, I was suddenly changing the nature of our relationship, and throwing wine in to boot. "Yeah sure. Maybe we could go over some ideas on that financial aid story," Howard said, never looking up from his computer. If he suspected any hidden motives, he didn't show it. Howard didn't hang out with the rest of the young pup reporters, chasing beer and young college women with freshly brushed hair and glimmering pink lip-gloss. He kept to himself, and it was that hard-to-get, loner status that pulled me towards him like gravity. Of course, our conversations never ventured beyond newspapers and assignments, but I was sure there was something underneath that I was going to like. I just knew he was the grab bag with something valuable inside. The next few days were spent frantically surfing through cookbooks at the library, reading about food and wine pairings. Surely a serious guy like Howard would notice all the details. My month's entertainment allotment was spent for this one night. Oh, but what a glorious sacrifice it would be. I selected two big red wines from Italy - dry, lip-smacking with just enough elegance and finesse to beg a compliment from the most timid wine drinker. |
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