The End of Break Up Wine?

“I have an idea. Why don’t we drink the Breakup Wine?”

We had joked about actually drinking it before but this time he was serious. And I had no idea what to do. Usually cracking open a bottle of wine on a Friday night isn’t even a question, especially when my guest brings a replacement bottle or two. This time I was freaking out and I didn’t know why.

Former Gentleman Caller has always had a way of pushing me out of my comfort zone. Way out. In the ups and downs of our relationship he’s made me take stock of my career, how I view forgiveness, how I accept support, talking through my struggles, what I expect from other people, and breaking out of my routine. When he texted me about seeing a movie on a Friday night I thought it would be fun...until he told me it was at 10:30 AT NIGHT. A real Liz Lemon moment for me. I begrudgingly agreed because it seemed like a good idea to have one night of being fun to end my 32nd year. When I agreed to a late movie, I didn’t know wine would be involved. He arrived early with two bottles for me to choose from or the option to drink the infamous Breakup Wine.

It gave me pause. I’ve held onto that bottle for over six years. I’ve used it as a reminder, as a joke, as a guilt trip. To open it was such a strange concept. I waffled back and forth before I finally agreed. We poured it. We cheers. We drank.

And it was really bad. At least we think it was really bad. Wine shouldn’t be...brown.

I held on to this bottle so long that what was inside went bad. And what was I holding on to? The story? I had that. The lesson? I learned it (though it took a few more breakups). I was holding onto the idea so long that it was toxic. Extreme, I know, but that’s what it was.

Holding on to old relationships, old injuries, old ideas doesn’t do any good. The distance made the story funny. But I held on to a relic. FGC and I have had numerous ups and downs. We’re in a really good place now and have been for a while now but letting go of my trump card was hard for me. Ultimately, that’s what it was. A physical thing I could point to and say, “you hurt me,” but I don’t need that. That’s not how functional relationships work.

Pouring a bottle of wine down the drain is never an idea I’ll endorse but it’s the most appropriate ending for that particular bottle. We let it go, together.