HIM: Honey, have you seen the Rabbit?

HER: Which one?

HIM: What do you mean, which one? The Rabbit. It’s black, has clamps as ears, a lever on top, big Teflon screw… Art wants to do a Pinot-palooza during the barbecue. I promised I’d bring the über-corkscrew.

HER: Ah, you mean your Rabbit.

HIM: Well, I’m okay with calling it our Rabbit. I’m a good sharer.

HER: You’re forgetting that I have a Rabbit too. It’s black and shiny and makes me very…hoppy! Kind of like a Penis-palooza, without the penis.

HIM: Ohhhh, that Rabbit.

HER: Yes, and I think I’d take my Rabbit over your Rabbit any day.

HIM: Even if my Rabbit is about to uncork an awesome Williams-Selyem Russian River Pinot Noir?

HER: A-yup. Sex trumps wine.

HIM: Really. Every time?

HER: Every time. You disagree?

HIM: Well…it depends on the wine.

HER: No way. I cannot believe I am hearing this. You are saying that you’d pick knocking back some wine to knocking boots with me…

HIM: I didn’t say that! All I… what I’m trying to say is that great wine can be as… as stimulating as sex.

HER: So if I whisper Haut-Brion 1989 in your ear you’ll pop a stiffy?

HIM: Well, maybe not right away. The ’82, on the other hand–

HER: Holy Burgundy, you are not kidding!

HIM: Hey, to paraphrase Robert Parker, drinking great wine is an exercise in hedonism.

HER: Well, I can give you five reasons why hedonistic sex is better than hedonistic wine.

HIM: OK, shoot.

HER: Only if you promise to come up with five reasons wine is better than sex.

HIM: Er, OK. You first.

HER: All right. Sex is free. Wine is expensive!

HIM: Good point.

HER: You can do it legally before you’re 21.

HIM: True….

HER: You can do it in a car.

HIM: Not lately, but OK. I’ll remind you about that someday.

HER: Aha! Sex burns calories!

HIM: Good. That’s four…

HER (thinking): In bed, 69 is a good number!

HIM: Nice work, horny lady. Thanks for reminding me why I’m so lucky to be with you.

HER: Alright, flattery will get you nowhere today, buddy. Gimme five good reasons why drinking wine is better than sex.

HIM: You can do it in public!

HER: Indeed you can.

HIM: You can drink it with multiple people!

HER: Oh yes, I forgot you’re allergic to orgies.

HIM: It’s good for your circulation.

HER: Hey, so is sex. I’m tossing that one out.

HIM: Fine, nitpicker. Drinking wine means never having to worry about birth control.

HER: Eh… debatable, but we’ll let it slide.

HIM: If you find a wine you like, you can buy it by the case and it will always be there, ready for… ahem, action.

HER: Weak. I’ll allow you to withdraw that one rather than leave it as unnecessary criticism of my sexual availability—which, I remind you, is quite variable….

HIM: Size doesn’t matter.

HER: What?

HIM: Size doesn’t matter. You know, like the size of the bottle. Or the size of the winery…

HER: You are so grasping. The size-doesn’t-matter line works for my side of the debate—if it applies at all. And anyone who’s having a dinner party knows that size does matter: a magnum pours twice the wine of a normal bottle.

HIM: OK, here’s my last shot. If you forget the name of a wine you had last night, it’s fine. If you forget the name of a lover, you are in deep shit.

HER (laughing): Good one, you wine gigolo, you.

HIM: I had one more, too, but I knew you’d say it’s true of sex too.

HER: Oh yeah? Try me.

HIM: Wine gets better with practice… and, obviously, so does sex.

HER: Is that your idea of a come-on? You’re going to have to do better than that.

HIM: OK, would you like to see the etchings in my wine cellar?

HER: Too bad I know your wine cellar is a big cabinet that’s already full of sexy bottles.

HIM: Hey, I can sidle down to that cellar and pick out what-evvverrrrr bottle of wine I want…and have my way with it.

HER: Yeah, you sure can. And that’s pretty damn unfair.

HIM: How’s that?

HER: Someone who drinks lots and lots of wine gets called a connoisseur. Someone who has a lot of sexual partners is called a slut.

HIM: Ouch. Good point.

HER: So much for equality in hedonism.

HIM: So should we call this a draw… and celebrate?

HER: Nope, I win. You’re forgetting one small but crucial reason why sex is better than wine.

HIM: Which is…

HER: I can prove it.

HIM: Right.

HER: Yep. You, me, that bottle of Pinot, in the bedroom, right now. No Rabbits allowed.

HIM: How am I going to open the wine?

HER: Oh, isn’t that a shame. You’re going to have a pretty tough time proving wine is better than sex if you can’t get the bottle open.

HIM: Right, you are. I can live with that.

HER: And it’s just as well, ’cause wine stains are a lot tougher to get out of the sheets.

HIM: OK, let’s go do some research…

HER: Deal. And, by the way, your Rabbit is in the kitchen, in the big drawer with the pots and pans. Where it usually is when you leave it out and I put it away…

HIM: Thanks for the tip. Meanwhile, by the way, remember that Laguiole corkscrew I picked up last summer in Paris? If I’m not mistaken, it’s in my sock drawer.

HER: Then you’d better bring that Pinot….

## XXXOOO ##