A Dancer Like a Fine Wine
Sometimes my connection with a woman on the dance floor goes deeper than skill, or just doing moves, or lead and follow. It’s hard to put a name to it…
But it’s like a really fine wine. She - the dance, the connection - is… complex. There’s a multitude of flavors and you can sip for hours and not fully appreciate a one of them. It gets better if you let it breathe some, and it gets better with age.
The whole is grater than the sum of its parts. It’s not just bouquet, or palette, or color, or aftertaste… but the elements combine to create an experience; an experience that is unique with each tasting. Just as a bottle opened today would taste different than if opened tomorrow, so too each dance is it’s own unique moment in time: delicious and mysterious and moving and then over, never to be retasted the same way twice.
The wine is alive - it responds to the environment, to the drinker, and with its own personality. While tempting to get drunk with it, that would ruin it and the ability to appreciate the complexity of it’s pleasures.
Drinking it is a bit heady - intoxicating, even - and pleasurable at the level that something enjoyed only for the pure pleasure of it can be.
Even this analogy fails to captureit all. But yes: she’s a dancer like a fine wine.