“It’s a holiday,” your husband says to you, as if National Tequila Day held the same gravitas of Yom Kippur. Your eye twitches, your palms instantly feel clammy, and you suddenly have the urge to scream.
But you are calm; you are collected. Or, that’s what your suspiciously tan yoga instructor says. Maybe she’s right, despite obviously lying about her “natural” bronze. You used to be the definition of a free spirit: barefoot, carefree, and more than willing to do beer bongs on Daytona Beach during Spring Break in 1995. And lately, you’ve been trying to get in touch with that girl again – your inner woo-girl.
“She’s still in there,” you whisper to yourself in the mirror every morning, pre-dawn light filtering through the window, steam from your shower obscuring your visage, and a small child crying right outside the door.
Things just got hard after 25. Well, vodka just didn’t go down quite as smooth, and even light beer started to make you feel bloated. And despite the adamant resolve of your early 20s that “all wine tastes the same,” you found yourself saying things like “I like the jammy mouth-feel of this one,” after a couple of glasses of cabernet sauvignon.
Things got worse after your firstborn started school. You told yourself you’d never have “mom friends,” and that you’d keep hanging out with your single girlfriends – but they just stay out so late. And those “mom friends” had wine. And wine is alcohol, and alcohol is a party, right? Even if it ends at 8:30 pm?
Eventually, those mental gymnastics became your primary workout. And there you were, president of the book club, driving your kids around in a safe vehicle, and only drinking white wine with fish. But somewhere deep within, the urge to woo began to stir. Like a great artist taken away from his paint and canvas, your desire to dance on a table and scream Man, I Feel Like A Woman at the top of your lungs with your girlfriends began to dominate your thoughts.
That brings us to the present day: you looking into your husband’s aging eyes, trying not to be annoyed, as he pleads with you to host a party. And a tequila party at that. But…your initial dread of having to invite neighbors that you hate and cleaning up everybody’s mess dissipated as you stared back into his earnest eyes. He, too, has seen better days.
The word slides past your lips, quiet and smooth, like a gentle exhale of the menthol cigarettes you used to smoke.
With your approval, party planning begins, and surprisingly, even your single friends want to come. Tacky decorations are purchased, drink recipes are pinned, and the kids get to go see grandma for the night.
The final step – moving the wine collection out of the way to make way for all of the different types of tequila you just got at BevMo. If your former days of woo-girl glory have taught you anything, it’s that party-goers full of tequila should be kept far away from expensive breakables. But, you don’t want to hide your beloved collection in the boiling hot garage, and your husband wants to set up a DIY Bloody Maria bar in there anyway. Here at StorBox, we have temperature-controlled units to keep your wine safe, and your reputation as a woo-girl safer. Store the reds, whites, and rosés. Now, go forth and woo.