Bad wine? Or does it just need a time out?

My friend's beach cabin is stacked with her parents wine.
Because they are as kick ass generous as my own folks, they told us to drink as much as we like.

The catch?
Half of it may have turned.
You see, UNLIKE my folks, they buy wine and then don't drink it.

So we set out on an epic taste test to discover which wines were drinkable and dispose of the rest.
You may think that determining if wine is still good is an easy task but it's actually fairly complex.

Some wines give off a pungent odor, from the cork, from the bottle, from the moment it's poured in the glass.
And the instinct is to chuck the wine because who the hell would want to drink something that smells like that anyway?
Wet dog.
Wet cardboard.
Skunk.
Certainly titillating to the senses, that's for sure.

My God, titillating is a funny word.

But, my favorite, potential wine disaster of all is the wine that can smell like a skunk when you first open it, but once given time to breathe and aerate, the skunk smell will disappear and the wine is not only drinkable, it's delicious.

The site I read this on said that most people, not knowing any better, would just instinctively dump the bottle out because if it smells bad, you should get rid of it.

I totally felt like this was how my last relationship was.
It had become a smelly skunk of a wine.
And what it needed was just some time to breathe and then it could be delicious.
We just had to wait, so things could breathe, and then see what happened.

But I'm so goddamn impatient I sipped the wine while it still reeked and he decided to just chuck the whole thing.

It's really a beautiful metaphor, when you think about it, as beautiful as any metaphor can be that involves the pungent smell of a skunk.

But I would like to venture out on a limb and say I could be a fucking delicious wine if given the chance to chill in my decanter.

Can I get a, Come On?

I'm too impatient.
I'm impetuous and emotional and irrational.
I hate wait!

The Bible says that patience only comes from trials and I feel like if I don't get the fucking hang of this lesson soon, there's going to be a downpour of shit reigning on my sparkle fest so my stupid patience plant can bloom.

There are way too many analogies going on in this blog.
So I'm just going to set down the wine and sleep.

Perchance to dream.
That the next fucktard I adore is more than coward incarnate.

Fingers crossed.