Dear Westvleteren 12,
Here we are. We finally meet. After all this time.
I’ve grown up a bit now, I’m ready for your love, your array of flavor, delight and splendor.
I never really sought you out, it just wasn’t my thing. You were like that classically beautiful girl in high school that was really friendly and nice to all us ugly boys.
I really wanted you, but I knew you were just going to say no.
You were outside my league, but your kindness and subtle gestures made me feel special nonetheless.
It wasn’t worth the embarrassment. I knew the outcome.
But two weeks ago was the night. “tonight was the night” I thought to myself.
I made dinner for us, it was special, simple yet significant. ‘Caccio e pepe’.
Spaghettini, butter and pecorino romano, with lashings of freshly ground pepper.
The food aside, you were an expensive evening.
You poured the mostly lovely of ruddy russet browns ever, you displayed hints of carob, toffee. A creamy buildup, however as the tight carbonation hits, there is warmth in the mouth. Silky smooth. golden syrup, blossom honey, toffee, as it warmed medicinal, anise, ginger, booze-soaked golden raisins. Alcohol is quite boozy and warming. Bone-dry and alcohol breath.
You were good. Very good. You were almost worth the hype.
However you were still disappointing. You maybe the Holy Grail but maybe only in your pursuits. Not in your final delivery.
You were everything I was hoping for, but then somehow you still fell short of my expectations. Would I love you again, yes. Would I cherish this moment forever, yes.
Would I run the end of the street and shout to the world, infatuated with your seductive treats in my belly.
I do apologise, this isn’t a break up, We never got that far.
We were just “seeing each other”. It never got any more serious than that.
I would like to you to visit occasionally but in reality we don’t connect, and we don’t have anything in common.
I am ‘in love’ with the thought of being in love with you, but I am not actually ‘in love’ with you.
You don’t want me anyways. I would take you for granted. Cheat on you regularly and make up stories about only drinking water or sprits that night I went out with my mates.
It was good, while it lasted.