The notes that linger

I'll have what she's having: An Affair to Remember.

I was reflecting on my looooong single status last night - as you do in the wee hours when you have had too much red wine and have unwisely revisited some favourite romantic comedies - and I came to the conclusion: I am an acquired taste (AT).
This is not a bad thing. Not bad at all.
A few of my female friends are ATs. Each has more than their fair share of quirks, but their beautiful minds have taught them how to play well together.
I guess I am a connoisseur of this kind of friend. They are smart, funny, true and never boring.
Some of these ATs have found the Holy Grail of partners - their ultimate connoisseur who has managed to not only keep up with their rhythm, but has amplified it.
It is a sight to behold.
But these men are not your run-of-the-mill types either. They too march to their own drum.
Two connoisseurs sharing a life. It's the ultimate admiration society.
In my mind, these sorts of partnerships never get old. Appreciation grows and the coupling becomes a classic.
So, like that bottle of strange spirit that remains on the (top) shelf, I'll sit tight and observe the passing parade. It's nice, and I know that when I am curious and bewitched enough to leave the shelf again, it will be for keeps ... or at least long enough to make it interesting.
So, salute!
* For the record, I'm the little bottle of pink champagne liqueur on the left (origin: somewhere beautiful, exotic and very, very cool).