I have read all kinds of advice that says my husband and I should go on a date night but I am not sure how to go about it. Should we make it once a week or special occasion? And who asks whom out? I kind of thought we got married so we didn’t have to date anymore.
Dad who Dates?
I hear you – dating’s rough when you’ve been out of the game. Nate and I were giving the same advice after we had our kids – “keep the romance alive.” We were leery since our last few shots at keeping the romance alive resulted in the two kids we were now actively trying to avoid but we liked the sound of going out by ourselves so we booked a sitter and had a date.
In attempt to make it as date like as possible, we dressed in separate rooms so we could appear before each other fully decked out like when one used to arrive on the other’s doorstep. I was in our bedroom and Nate was in Logan’s, he attempted to put on his clothes while avoiding a chemistry kit, various cars, the contents of Logan’s bookshelf, plastic weapons, every stitch of clothing Logan owns and my blender cup which I had been missing for 3 months. Nate was rather impressed with himself for deftly avoiding everything until he finally hit the Tiger trap of Legos Logan had clever hidden under a striped polo. As Nate plummeted on Logan’s swivel chair, his tie got caught on the closet door’s knob, which shot him backwards until he was secured to the door in his plastic swivel chair looking like an unfortunate hostage. As soon as the noise stopped, our overly furred cat pounced on his lap and shed his winter coat.
I fared somewhat better in my room as I had less on the floor to deal with; well I did, until my “consultant” got involved. Tabitha appointed herself my personal dresser for the evening and was having difficulty deciding on my shoes. She pulled out every pair of heels I had and lined them up – mismatched for comparisons sake – along my floor. For my outfit, she had selected a red velvet floor length shirt and my wedding veil. Since I had taken it upon myself to tweak my outfit a touch, Tabby decided she wanted to help with my hair. I handed her the brush, told her just a few strokes would do and I set about to apply my make up. As Tabby jerked my head back with the brush, I applied lipstick my chin. Given the time and the fact that the babysitter had already negotiated for Nate’s release, I grabbed the first pair of shoes I could and ran to meet up with Nate. At any time, my beloved husband could have mentioned that I resembled a Circus Clown on a bender. He might have suggested a scarf to combat the helmet of hair I was sporting. At the very least he could have suggested two of the same shoes but he didn’t; he simply sat there and complained about a crushed trachea and how his black eye meant I had to drive.
We headed off to our restaurant and were seated immediately, which may have been because we used to go there frequently before kids or may have been because they desperately wanted us out of sight of people trying to digest their food. We sat down, smiled at each other and reviewed our menus until the waiter pried them from our hands and forced us to make a decision.
Once the wine was poured and the menus taken, Nate and I smiled at each other once again and took each other’s hands across the table. It was lovely… and about the time that we realized we had no idea what to talk about. Complimenting each other was out of the question – we had both caught our reflections in the restaurant’s window by that point – so we discussed how exciting the menu was since it was the only thing either of us had read in the last month. We spent a great deal of time smiling at each other and looking around. I began ease dropping on the fighting couple behind me when Nate said something. Realizing I had no idea what he had said, I clasped my hands under my chin and said “oh, now that’s interesting, tell me about that.” I thought it was a brilliant save; unfortunately what Nate had actually just told me I had put my elbow in my butter. When the bread came, we discussed how much we liked it until the meal was served.
At some point it became obvious that we simply did not know how to have a conversation that wasn’t interrupted every 3 words or a dinner that did not involve a small human leaping up from the table for no apparent reason other than to race around the hall. The lack of things being knocked over on the table threw us. Nate and I were stumped – our entire history had checked out and gone to find more interesting people and we were stuck discussing crust. When the waiter interrupted my dissertation on reaching every cranny with butter to ask how we enjoyed our food, I threw up my hands and asked why I even bothered to try and have a conversation, pulled out my book and read it throughout dessert while Nate watch the TV above the bar. It was delightful and only cost us $150 to do exactly what we would have done had we stayed home.
When we got home, we went to our room to “act like teenagers” so we climbed into bed and attempted to make out – which is something else we apparently forgot how to do – and eventually just fell asleep fully clothed. I think it was about 8:30.
Now, when we decide we need a date, we just call escorts.
Thank you to Christopher G. from Miami, FL. for writing in. If you would like to write to Supermom, email her at AskSupermom@placedeplume.com or click the button below: