50 First Dates

-

How annoying it is to blog about marriage all the time. But, lest we all forget, this is my blog.... and that's just how it be. I am considering dubbing the blog something along the lines of "The New Newlyweds" or something a bit more clever!


I am looking forward to tonight because my boo and I have a date night planned. Ohhhhhh, how I love date nights. It means we ignore everyone else in the world for a short while. It means we compromise on where we choose to have dinner... and what movie we see. Usually we end up browsing department stores, looking for home goods and talking about pieces we love and how they would fit into our home- real or imagined. Date nights are generally simple- just as I like them. No fuss, no frills, just being together. Date night means there is no rushing around to see anyone else. It means we won't be cooking or cleaning or working in the yard. It means we won't go running or feel the guilt for taking a break from our nightly work-out. It means we probably won't have a protein shake or contemplate the nutritional value in what we consume. Date night= fun night.


I remember one of our first dates...I cried in misery. Ah, to look back on that time!! =) I was in England. It was January. It was cooooolllld. It was snowing, windy, and we found ourselves somewhat trapped in a blizzard. We were walking back from the aquarium in Birmingham looking to grab a bite to eat. On that walk, I cried. I always thought I was pretty hard-core.... like I could handle anything that was thrown my way, come hell or high water. I was a soldier. I had, after all, been camping many times in horrible weather. Oh no friends... this was no camping trip. On that walk I wore a shameful excuse for a winter coat and a "cute" pink scarf that served little purpose aside from being "cute". I had on those very fake Uggs you get from Wal-Mart (Hey... I already admitted I like Wal-Mart... just let it go....). I looked adorable. I felt like poo! OhHhHhhhHH... I was sooooooooo coooolllld. We couldn't get into the pub fast enough. I cried on that walk. Lloyd held my hand. We finally made it inside. Warmth. My hands burned from the sudden temperature change. You know that wonderful burning sensation? You can hardly move your fingers and for a moment you actually think they might break if you move them too fast. I had coffee. Of course. We sat inside that pub for what felt like ages watching the blizzard outside. It was pretty. When we left we put on our brave faces so we could make it back home. We survived.


Oddly enough, I remember that date better than some others. I remember it because we were together. We faced that proverbial storm. We hadn't gone anywhere extra special. We didn't wine and dine. It wasn't something that looked like it came from a romantic movie. It was just us.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Dear Bobby"

-
Image
"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when ...
Read More

The Good Dancer: A Dating Story

-
Image
I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with.  He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off.  (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.)  Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them.  Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop.  Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists.  If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer.  He didn't crowd.  He didn't sweat profusely.  H...
Read More

Degree

-
Image
It was on Friday night. We laughed a lot, perhaps made delirious by the sweet smell of men that were familiar-yet-elusive and desirable. It could have been the wine,  it could have been the great company of old friends and conversations and shared opinions with other women. I disagreed with Ariel more than once, though... "Too sweet" or.... "smells like a jelly bean...." The ones I couldn't put down were the ones that smelled like a man's deodorant, hidden among 75+ samples that scattered in baskets around the coffee table. There we sat around a table full of scents as we sampled the fragrances from a friend's Scentsy collection, eager to fill out our order forms for the smells that would soon promise to envelop our homes. I opted for the "Iced Pine" option, which always reminds me of the home I have not yet lived in and lingered around the fragrances that smelled of citrus and orange peels.  The idea of the smell of "Orange...
Read More