A Glass of Wine. Red Please.

Although wine was part of my daily childhood since my parents always shared a glass at dinnertime, I wasn’t tempted to drink when I was a teenager. It would have been no big deal since legal drinking age in my native France is sixteen years old. I am also part of a large family and was invited to numerous weddings, and religious ceremonies, all followed by endless meals and countless bottles of wine. In addition, my father has a great cellar filled with different kinds of wines. On several occasions he offered me a sip of his glass but I spat it in my napkin. Wine wasn’t my cup of tea.
Until the day my dad, who hadn’t given up on me, poured me a glass of a deep burgundy colored wine, sliced a piece of Camembert and bread and said, “Try this and if you don’t like it, I’m not sure what else I can do.”
I still don’t know if his words tainted with disappointment or the perfect blend of cheese, bread and wine did it, but that day changed my aversion for wine. In the mean time I met my future husband who like me had come to wine very late for a French native. Together we tasted all kind of wines. Our favorites were and still are the vins de pays or local wines. But, unlike my husband, I quickly favored red wines to white wines.
However, it is only this summer as we drove across the US that I started to notice that red wine is instinctively associated with men and white with women.
Red is the color of blood and war, but also of love and passion. White is the color of quietness and peace but also of emptiness and dullness.
Red is male, white is female.
At least for the waiters and waitresses who, invariably, offer the glass of red wine I ordered to my husband and set the white wine in front of me, “Here you are, madam.”
Fortunately my father knew and still knows better than that.

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