Some of my favorite things:
A baguette with salted butter.
Figs with prosciutto.
Saturday farmers markets.
The smell of bread baking.
Good olive oil (the kind you drizzle, not cook with).
Well-worn cookbooks with notes in the margins.
French wine—Bordeaux or Burgundy have my heart equally.
Sunday morning jazz.
Long dinners that turn into longer conversations.
We liked all the same things. How was that possible?
I scrolled further, finding his responses to the profile prompts.
My real-life superpower is …pairing the right wine with any meal—or any mood.
After work, you’ll find me …in the kitchen cooking something that requires an excellent Burgundy, listening to jazz, or overwatering my herbs.
I promise I won’t judge you …if you like buttery Chardonnay or California Merlot. Wine snobbery is boring. Drink what you like, and I’ll tell you why it’s actually a great choice.
Favorite song:“La Vie en Rose”—the Louis Armstrong version, though Édith Piaf makes me nostalgic for Paris.
What’s your comfort movie—and will you share the popcorn?
Julie & Julia. I’ve seen it more times than I care to admit, and yes—I’ll share the popcorn. But I’m also bringing wine, because popcorn pairs surprisingly well with Champagne.
I pressed my hand to my mouth, giggling.
“I told you,” Mia said. “He’s perfect for you.”
Hewasperfect. Too perfect. This had to be some kind of joke, right? Men like this didn’t exist on dating apps. Men like this didn’t exist, period.
“And he left you a message. Read it,” Mia said. “Please.”
I scrolled down to his message, my heart doing a ridiculously fast thump in my chest.
Hey @HomewardBound! I have to say, your handle stopped me mid-scroll. If you look at my tagline, it might make sense why. We seem to have a few passions in common, including our affinity for good wine and food. I agree that food enjoyed with others is so much better. If you’d be open to it, I’d love to take you out for a glass of wine one evening. I grew up in Willet Cove but just returned a few months ago and could use a friend—even if I’m not your preferred varietal for romance.
No pressure. Just a kindred spirit hoping to clink glasses with another.
Cheers,Vance
I read it twice. Then a third time.
Thoughtful. Funny. Self-deprecating without being pathetic. And he lived here. In Willet Cove. The odds of that alone seemed astronomical.
“Mom, what do you think?”
“He seems nice.”
