My first sip of wine, or alcohol-anything, came on my 21st birthday (because I'm just that kind of girl.) I was out for a birthday dinner with my boyfriend and favorite girlfriend, celebrating my transition to adulthood at a diner near my university. I had no idea what to order to toast the big day. The drinks list was short, but even then, it made little sense. I knew that beer smelled pretty bad, so I wanted nothing to do with it, but wine---well, at least it was pretty. I asked the disinterested waitress which wine should would recommend. She looked at me like I couldn't possibly be more awkward, more naive, more unprepared for adulthood. I could see her thinking, "Here? You want to party up your 21st birthday HERE? With a club sandwich?" (I tried out a real-true-actual Bar a few months later, and found it terrifying.) She looked over the drinks list with dismay, and after a very long pause she said, "Well...you could try the blush. It's mild, and pink, and sweet." Well, that certainly didn't sound like the Devil's Invitation to A Life of Depravity, so I agreed to it. It was all she promised, and bubbly, too.
It was awful.
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