How Do I Date Thee?

My husband and I don’t date as often as we should. We’re not exactly the kind of couple that holds Friday night in sacred reserve for each other… maybe we should be, but I just don’t know if we’re creative enough (or rich enough, for that matter) to date every single Friday night and enjoy it. Truth is, sometimes, we want to spend our Friday nights with our kids. And sometimes we want to spend it turning in early because sleep is golden ’round these parts. Anyway, I think we’d get a little stuck in a rut with a Friday routine.
But, but, but: on the flip side, we haven’t been dating at all. Not even a little. Not even a teensy brisk, kid-less stroll down the lane. The other night, I tossed out the idea (that I thought of all by myself but I’m sure someone -probably a thousand someones -have thought of before) that we each write down ten date ideas of our own, cut them apart from each other, put them in a jar, draw one out every Sunday night to be used the coming Friday (or Saturday). This gives us prep time so our dates have a little more meat to them and it also gives us ample time to get a sitter if needed. How many times have we planned a date and put off getting a sitter until it came right down to it and then weren’t able to go out at all? I can’t say for CERTAIN, but 4,539 sounds about right.
Last night after the kids went to bed, we made our lists.
Confession: when I ran out of ideas, I scribbled intently on my page so my husband would think I was full of awesome creativity and not just a blankness.
The funny thing about our lists is that mine is written in huge-o chunky writing and my ideas go into great detail while my husband’s list is short and very much to the point.
I used two pages.

We had one rule: We were allowed to choose whatever we wanted regardless of the other spouse’s feelings. I know that sounds cruel, but we both agreed that we don’t spend enough time focusing on each other’s interests. For example: my husband LOVES gardening and would kill to have me garden with him. I was raised gardening, and so it isn’t fun for me. I like having a garden, but it isn’t FUN for me. It’s WORK. So as one of his date ideas, he wrote “Spend an evening gardening together.” He knows I’d rather not, but it’s important to him so I can suck it up. We’re hoping that in the process we’ll come to love and appreciate each other’s hobbies and interests more. On that note, my husband isn’t exactly thrilled that I wrote down choosing a poem to share with each other. But hey, babe. you love weeding. I love words.
Let’s meet in the middle.

The date ideas are jarred and ready to go. It looks like we’re set for the next 6 months or so -and we won’t be bored by any means. We’re both excited to try our date ideas (poetry aside, on his part. gardening on mine). I suggested we go to a restaurant and share one large platter of something-or-other, to which he replied without missing a beat, “48 wings from Native New Yorker.”
And the baby inside of my flipped with joy.
We’ll also be making our own popcorn -straight from the kernel -and flavoring it as we choose. My husband loves buttery and salty popcorn. I’m more of a sweet, kettle-corn kind of girl.
He wants me to play Playstation with him.
I want him to make a playlist for me.
And yes -we’re going to make a date out of writing living wills together. It’s not like we’re rolling in assets that need to be divided, but if in the case that one of us should die, there’s certain little trinkets that I want to make sure go to certain people, and my husband feels the same. Might as well make a date of it (black attire optional).
We’re both really excited to make a list of things we want to do together before we die… not that death is a theme in our marriage, but I guess we do talk quite a lot about it. We’ve already outlined our qualifications for potential future spouses should one of us die.
He has to marry someone happy.
I have to marry someone who will take care of me financially.

Between walking the historic downtown area in the city and taking a backwoods drive in the forest, we’re going to have a rollicking good time interrupted by brief periods of gardening, poetry reading, and will writing.
If I was a proper, cute wife… I’d make the jar adorable, but I’m practical. and I’m tired. and husband’s don’t care about cute jars.
Let the games begin!