That night I had sat there with a glass of blush wine while contemplating whether I would just send it back and ask the waiter for a glass of Pinot Noir. How does this man continue to get it wrong? I was always getting a headache whenever I drank a glass or two of the blush wine, but then I finally realized that my date’s presence brought on the throbbing to my temples and not a bunch of innocent grapes. And then it happened – the waiter came over with a glass of glorious red wine and said that the gentleman at the bar had sent it over for me to enjoy. As I shoved the blush wine away, Javier Bardem asked if this seat was taken.
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