Nobody tells you that one day “I love you” might sound suspiciously like “Did you remember the milk?”
There was a time when date night required deciding what to wear.
Now it requires military coordination.
Who has the kids? What time does everything finish? Do we need to book? Can we actually stay awake past 9pm?
Eventually, after comparing calendars like two CEOs negotiating a merger, you find it.
Friday night.
Date night.
Nothing is going to interfere this time.
Then Friday arrives.
One kid needs to be somewhere. Another suddenly needs something for Monday. Nobody remembered to buy dog food. The washing machine is making a noise it definitely wasn’t making yesterday and one of you has already put on comfortable pants.
Things are deteriorating rapidly.
By 7pm, somebody says:
“Should we maybe just do it next weekend?”
And there it is.
Romance Department: currently closed.
It sounds ridiculous that two people who live in the same house sometimes have to make an actual plan to spend time together.
You see each other every day.
But there’s a difference between being in the same place and actually hanging out.
Most evenings aren’t exactly candlelight and meaningful conversation.
They’re:
“What’s for dinner?”
“Did you reply to the school?”
“Where’s the charger?”
“Did you remember the milk?”
That last one is basically foreplay after 35.
ROMANCE ISN’T DEAD.
IT JUST HAS A SHOPPING LIST NOW.
Date night is different.
Not because restaurants possess magical relationship-healing powers or because somebody on Instagram said couples need quality time.
Sometimes it’s just bloody nice to sit across from the person you’re doing life with and talk absolute kak for two hours.
No school run.
No dishes.
No asking whether the electricity bill was paid.
Nobody shouting “MOM!” or “DAD!” from another room while standing approximately four metres away from the thing they’re looking for.
Just two adults, food they didn’t cook and the exciting possibility that neither of them will have to load the dishwasher afterwards.
And maybe that’s why we keep trying to make date night happen even when real life keeps blikseming it off the calendar.
Not to fix anything.
Not to have a relationship check-in.
Please, we’re trying to enjoy ourselves.
Just to go out together.
Laugh.
Have a drink.
Eat dessert without having to share it with someone who specifically said they didn’t want dessert.
Then come home and return to normal programming.
The kids will still need things.
The laundry will still be waiting.
Someone will probably have finished the milk.
But for a couple of hours, none of that was your department.
NOTHING WAS HEALED.
NOBODY DISCOVERED THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE.
YOU JUST HAD A BLOODY NICE EVENING TOGETHER.
And sometimes that’s more than enough.
Mostly takeaway: Date night: because apparently living together and actually seeing each other are two completely different subscription packages. ❤️😂
JOIN THE CHAOS…