I’ll admit it: I’ve fought battles in grocery store aisles, wearing my best “I’ve got this” face while stealthily Googling what the hell marjoram actually tastes like. I’ve gone head-to-head with corks that wouldn’t budge and soufflés that maliciously caved. But the hardest battle I ever fought wasn’t in the vineyard, the kitchen, or even some Pinterest-worthy dining room. It was a quiet, internal struggle—the kind that leaves no visible wreckage but leaves behind a mess all the same.
For me, this battle was about saying "yes." Not to bold career moves or spontaneous road trips to the Oregon coast (I’m not a monster—I live for those). But saying "yes" to people, to potential relationships, to the art of really letting someone in when it’s so much easier to freestyle your way back to a comfortable, well-worn solitude.
How I Became a Ghost (Not the Paranormal Kind)
Let’s rewind to my mid-twenties. I’d just returned from my semester abroad in France, armed with new wine knowledge, a mildly concerning addiction to pain au chocolat, and stories of charming waiters who’d convinced me I had a "je ne sais quoi" (spoiler: I did not). I was feeling bold, adventurous, and ready to take on the world. Except when it came to relationships.
When friends set me up with “someone amazing,” I smiled, agreed, and then…well, let’s just say my text-response time rivaled that of a mid-2000s dial-up connection. I convinced myself I wasn’t ghosting—I was pruning. Like vines, right? You snip what you don’t need so the strongest grapes thrive. Maybe I’d just been a little too snip-happy.
The truth? I was terrified. Terrified of rejection. Terrified of being wrong. Terrified I’d somehow say the exact thing that would make someone go, “Yeah, she’s not it.” So I stayed bottled up, vintage Briar, labeled “Handle with Care.”
The Moment Everything Popped (Like an Overworked Champagne Cork)
This all came to a head one balmy Napa afternoon about two years later. I was leading a wine tasting, talking about terroir and tannins, when a woman raised her hand and asked, “But what do you really look for in a wine?”
An easy enough question, but the way she asked it—teasing, curious—caught me off guard. I stumbled through my answer (balance, complexity, not being chardonnay masquerading as sauvignon blanc). But later, it hit me: She wasn’t asking me about wine. She was asking me about my taste, my perspective, my essence. And the scary part? I didn’t even know myself. How could I bring someone else into my world when that world felt only half-formed?
Lessons from the Fields: What Grapes Taught Me About Growth
Cue the montage: Briar walking among grapevines, notebook in hand, wearing an impractically flowing linen dress. Okay, not quite. But I did take several vineyard walks to think things through, drawing parallels between winemaking and relationships along the way. If there’s one thing wine has taught me, it’s this: great things take time, effort, and patience. Relationships—much like crafting a good vintage—aren’t about perfection; they’re about process.
Here's how I started to shift things:
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Get Comfortable with the Mess
You don’t stomp grapes and expect to walk away with pristine shoes (and if you do, I have concerns about what wine you’re drinking). Relationships are messy, unpredictable, and sometimes leave you with sticky feet. Embrace that. Make peace with the mess before you try to pour yourself into someone else’s life. -
Open the Bottle (Metaphorically Speaking)
There’s a reason unopened wine is just called juice. It doesn’t reach its full potential until it’s decanted, swirled, and sipped. People, much like wine, need to be shared to be understood. I started saying “yes” more often—to small talk that could lead to big connections, to coffee dates even when the couch was more appealing, to texts that didn’t overthink punctuation (a big step for me). -
Learn to Pair Your Flavors
Not everyone who walks into your life is the right pairing. Some are meant to be a fun experiment—like goats’ cheese and orange wine—that you learn from and move on. Others? They’re the classic match (your Merlot to their dark chocolate). But you can’t discover either if you don’t taste-test first.
A Post-Mortem on the Ghosting Habit
So, what happened after I stopped ghosting and started showing up? I won’t lie—there were awkward moments, dates that fizzled, and one particularly mortifying incident where I went on about vintage Champagnes so long my date thought I was angling for an invitation to his (non-existent) wine cellar. But there were also moments of connection. Moments where I let myself laugh at bad jokes, linger over shared appetizers, and trust that even if it didn’t work out, I’d still walk away okay—smarter, savvier, and maybe even a little more me.
The biggest surprise? I didn’t just grow closer to others; I grew closer to myself. Saying “yes” helped me tap into my own vulnerabilities, preferences, and quirks. Turns out, my "taste" isn’t just about wine but about life itself—who I welcome into it and how I show up for them once they’re inside.
Takeaways for Fellow Fighters
If you’re wrestling with your own ghosts of self-doubt, here’s my advice:
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Stop Over-Editing Your Life
You don’t need to wait for the perfect moment, outfit, or angle. Show up as you are, messy hair and all. The right people will appreciate it; the wrong ones aren’t worth the stress. -
Think of Connection as a Harvest
Sometimes, you need to plant seeds without knowing if they’ll bear fruit. Relationships are similar—you have to nurture and trust the process, even if the outcomes aren’t immediately clear. -
Refine, Don’t Redefine
Be true to yourself. Not everyone will love your full-bodied Cab Sauv energy (maybe they’re a light Pinot Grigio type), but those who do? They’ll stick around for more.
The Bravery in the “Yes”
These days, I’m still a work in progress. But when I look back on who I was—the expert ghost, the girl with her heart under metaphorical lock and key—I don’t cringe. I smile. Because I see how far I’ve come. Saying “yes” didn’t just open doors to other people—it opened one to my own heart.
So, whether you’re fumbling through tastings or tangled up in budding connections, here’s one thing I’ll leave you with: pour generously, sip slowly, and always say yes to the possibilities of love and life. After all, the best vintages are always worth the wait.
