He pours a generous glass for me and passes it over the table. Noting the label, I search for all there is to find on the wine; its locale, recent genetic history of the vine, soil composition, the weather over the year the grapes were grown, that sort of thing. It tells me so much, yet I could never tell the difference between one bottle and the next. He tells me how good the wine is – very, though not the best – but I have to take his word for it.
I pour him a generous glass of my beer. He’s not much of a beer drinker, only drinks common lagers. He takes a sip and tells me he can see my soul in it. He describes my soul, and his words warm it further. We continue our discussion in the bedroom.