I’ve come to the conclusion that my husband and I are not cut out for “date nights.”
However, I feel slighted that we married before the online dating craze, because I’m sure I could have written a stellar profile. Since I can’t even remember being single or what I was like before children, here’s the profile of what this old married gal has to offer:
MWF (married white female) seeking QNWH (quiet night with hubby)-- I used to like long walks, but now I’ll settle for taking more than 5 steps without having to pick something up off the floor. I don’t want to go out to dinner; I just want to sit on the couch and eat cereal. Let’s not talk about your job as an engineer. You lose me at the word “data,” or after the third acronym, whichever comes first. I also don’t want to talk about the kids even though they consume 90 percent of my brain. The other 10 percent is filled primarily with celebrity gossip, Facebook gossip and church gossip, so choose your poison. I’m not interested in a movie because I don’t want to see car chases and explosions. The theater is always cold, everything is expensive, and my metabolism can no longer handle extra butter on popcorn, so it’s not worth it. You won’t get lucky buying me an expensive gift because we share a bank account. However, if you unload the dishwasher, consider yourself much closer to sealing the deal.
I know it’s pathetic, but I didn’t get married so I could continue dating the man whose laundry I’m now doing.
I hear “date night” often, especially in church circles. A couple of years ago, our church did the series by David and Claudia Arp, “10 Great Dates to Energize Your Marriage.” By Date No. 3, we were exhausted.
My husband refuses to read anything that doesn’t include photos of automotive parts, so I had to read “10 Great Dates” and provide verbal cliff notes. We didn’t want to discuss the chapter’s intimate questions in public, so we worked on the quiz in the car. These forced discussions always ended in an argument.
By the time I had booked a babysitter, found coupons, made plans, read the chapter, dressed up, asked the questions and won an argument, I was tired (and by tired, I mean really grumpy). We surrendered after Date No. 4, which was titled: “Becoming an Encourager.” My husband encouraged me to trash the book. We flunked the course.
I think our dating life might have been jinxed from the very beginning. On our first date, I broke out in hives and then had to be rushed to the hospital because of an asthma attack. I guess you could say he left me breathless.
He proposed five months after that disastrous date. Ten years, an elopement, two kids and one mortgage later, we aren’t romantic by any means, but we laugh everyday. Our Friday nights typically consist of me reading a book while he watches re-runs of the A-Team.
At least I can say this: The dishwasher is always empty.