Date Night

 

Don’t worry. I’m not going to describe how my husband and I have carved out a night each week for dreamy, gaze into your eyes, romantic rendezvousing. Not happening at our house. We’re lucky if we can stay alert long enough to make it through our evening meal without drifting off into our mashed potatoes, much less muster up the energy to take a shower and head out the door for a night out on the town.

My impetus for this posting is a brief encounter with two strangers last week Friday evening. I was on my way back to the grocery store for the second time in an hour due to my lapse in memory the first time. As I was leaving the store, a middle-aged couple passed by me, hand in hand and all cuddly like as they entered the store. A strong perfumey fragrance wafted over me, indicating that they had taken some time to prepare for the evening. Their clothes were wrinkle and stain free. All indications pointed toward a date night for this pair.

As I slugged home with my bags of groceries, my memory bank pulled up a dusty file from the early 1970’s. My husband and I were young and all googly-eyed back then. We grew up in the same town, went to the same church, attended the same school and hung out with the same friends. Despite all this togetherness, we still thought we might make a good couple.

Dating back then was quite different than it is today. We didn’t have smart phones so we couldn’t text little love quips to one another all day long. We didn’t have facebook pages that declared our relationship status for all the world to rejoice in.   Our small town did not have a lot of entertainment options so amusement had to involve some creativity.

A favorite date night back then was double dating with some friends of ours and making a road trip to a pizza eatery about an hour away. Pizza was a luxury for us because we didn’t have any such options in our hometown. Ordering a loaded, thick crust Italian pie with friends seemed like the perfect way to spend an evening.  

Another date night option was participating in the time honored tradition of cruising the loop around town. The loop was always the same. Down main street, around the boulevard, u-turn at the north end of the street and start all over again. Around and around and around the same mile for more hours than I care to count. Makes me want to pop a Dramamine just thinking about it. Somehow we passed the time with conversation, driving and quiet swooning.

The ultimate date, however, was a movie night. Again, we usually had to head down the road for any kind of picture show. One summertime favorite was probably the drive-in theater about forty minutes away. It was out in a pseudo-pasture where the air was thick with bugs and humidity. Our movie speaker crackled out the dialogue of the movie with intermittent clarity. Sitting on your car hood was sometimes the only way to get a good view and catch a breeze or two. Despite the inconveniences, a good time was usually had by all.

Okay, I’ll admit it, I was a little jealous of the doting couple heading into the grocery store last Friday night. I don’t think, however, that my husband I will ever find ourselves cooing to one another in the aisles of our local grocery store. Our thirty plus years of marriage can probably be attributed to an accumulation of the little and big stuff. Whether it’s a trip to a favorite destination or a meal of chicken and mashed potatoes, the key is sharing space and conversations.  And it maybe wouldn’t hurt to add a little butter to those potatoes.