When we get caught up in our everyday life and we feel like
our relationship with our husband is best described as “two ships passing in
the night,” it’s time to have a date night because if we don’t, these two ships
are going to be sinking like the Titanic.
So, the evening is planned and here is the sequence of events:
- Mid-week, you ask him where he would like to go and he says, “Where ever you want.”
- You go ahead and make a reservation for two at a restaurant you both enjoy. Then, you are in charge of all the details and arrangements to be made for the kids, and if they’re older, you’re the private investigator.
- Date Night: He’s late, you call him three times, and he doesn’t answer.
- Finally, after the fourth attempt, he answers and you say, “Where are you?” That statement sets him off to a screaming fit over the phone about how he’s having a bad day, he could care less about the dinner reservations and he doesn’t feel like going out anyways. You say “whatever” and hang up the phone. Yup—the tone is set. Here we fucking go!
- Now, you pour yourself a glass of wine, sit down on the couch, and flick on QVC. He comes in the house talking on his cell and runs to take a shower.
- He rushes to the couch half dressed. As he is putting his shoes on you say, “I’m not going out with you dressed like that. You don’t even match.” He then begins to argue with you, but you won’t give in. He starts to turn green like the Incredible Hulk, lets out a big roar, and tears off his shirt. Argument #1 is officially underway and you didn’t even leave the house.
- At this time, you get more wine and order two of whatever is on QVC even if you don’t want it.
- The car ride: you- calm and cool from the wine; him- breathing heavy and trying to calm down from Incredible Hulk mode with a new shirt on. Now it’s his turn to ask a question: “Where are we going?” When you tell him the name of the restaurant, he starts bitching and moaning about how he doesn’t want to go there and argument #2 begins.
- For the next 45 minutes he drives around from restaurant to restaurant looking for another place to eat and you are both arguing and saying things to each other that you wouldn’t even say to your worst enemy. And just when you think it can’t get any worse, what does he do? The bastard drives to the restaurant that you made 7:30 reservations for, all because he’s hungry. Yup—it’s 9 o’clock now!
- As you both walk in the restaurant, now that the night is ruined, both of you are here for one reason and one reason only. Yourselves. He’s hungry, and you need a cocktail. So, if you talk, you talk. If you don’t, you don’t. It really doesn’t matter anymore.
- You both get two seats at the bar. He watches TV and you end up talking to a complete stranger. Now you look at your husband and say, “You’re the DD, I’m calling it now.”
- Yes, it makes for the perfect evening because if you talk, argument #3 will evolve which is the recap of what happened in the car. But even if it was a picture perfect evening, an argument would arise because the subject of the kids would come up and it would end up being like a republican vs. democrat debate and probably end in someone leaving the restaurant.
- Dessert time: He orders apple crisp and an espresso while you order an espresso martini. The desert comes with two spoons, and you both take a bite at the same time and stare at each other (the only eye contact of the evening) for 30 seconds straight, gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling. Yup—you just had telepathic sex, and that’s about as good as it gets for tonight.
- The car ride home sums up just what the both of you have become: strangers in the night. He yawns the entire ride home while singing songs on the radio that he doesn’t know the words to, and you look out the window talking to God and asking him why.
- Home: He walks into the living room, grabs the remote, takes off his shoes, and watches the weather, sports or the discovery channel. You walk to your room and decide it’s still early enough for a spa treatment, so you deep condition your hair and put on a face mask. You make yourself some tea and grab your book of the month.
- As the evening passes, God knows you can’t let it go without taking some pictures. First pic: your husband on the couch sleeping with his jacket on while holding the remote. Second pic: you smiling with your cracked face mask with the towel on you head. You send both to your girlfriend with a text that reads, “Live from my house, it’s Saturday night!”
Yup— Strangers In The Night. The cruise ship we all set sail on the day we said “I do.”