slam dunk

 

sometimes date nights aren't magical. sometimes there are no car doors opened and no roses. sometimes, it's not even worth putting on red lipstick for.

sometimes it's just a late run to wal-mart. the new one a few towns away. with the dog in the backseat and the windows rolled down, iron and wine on the radio. holding hands at red lights.

and sometimes you stumble upon a dunkin donuts. right before closing. and the tired teenager behind the counter asks, nay begs, you to please take one of each donut. because it's nearing eleven and they're just going to throw them out anyway. she stuffs them all in your brown paper bag and only charges you for your two small coffees.

and all of a sudden, this date night turns around. and from the fluorescent lights bouncing off the mopped tile floors to the empty shop ringing with silence and closing time, something begins to come alive. and the date becomes, yes, a little more magical.

a different sort of date night

 post edit: welcome new friends hopping over from For the Love of Blogs! What a sweet honor to be recognized for Fab Friends Friday. Fab is my favorite abbreviated word, and this is truly a testament to the beautiful power of connection that blogs foster and encourage.
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there are some days when i just want to sit in a dark theater. feel the stale popcorn fold beneath my moccasins. wrap my hands around a too-expensive paper cup, sweating with dr. pepper. sit in the middle of the center aisle.


hold hands with robert across the hard plastic cup holders. look over at him when he's not looking over at me. surprise him with my glance. and when it's over, leave. into the cold night air. the snap! back into reality. the cinematic discussions and exchange of favorite quotes serving as conversation fodder all the way home.


and on an unrelated {but perhaps, ultimately, completely related} note,


there are also times when i want to forget. about responsibility. sensibility. the fact that i have to go to work in the morning so i should be in bed, lights out, by ten.


so with that mentality, i called robert around lunchtime yesterday and invited him to a date night. a super late movie. at the cheap, $1 theater. i called between two meetings. after slurping down my vegetable soup from a can and before scarfing down my ghiradelli milk chocolate pumpkin caramel square for dessert.


and we made plans. and i was excited. and the thought of a scandalous late night spent on the town propelled me through the rest of the afternoon. {when robert and i were in college, and the fights were long and hard and the makeups were bittersweet and short, mama told me this: "seeing each other should be the best part of your day. when it's not, something's wrong."}


but then, as i sat in our den, the darkness completely overtaking the fading sunset behind my blinds, i heard robert pull into our driveway. i watched him be pulled into the front door by pablo, yards ahead and tugging on his leash.


and he gathered me in his arms and i breathed him in. the good, strong smell of a blue collar. of hard work. {when i was younger, my favorite book was "someday angeline," about a girl who liked to drink saltwater and whose dad worked at the garbage dump. and she loved the way he smelled after work and associated it with love. in a similar way, robert comes home smelling like pipes and plumbing, and i love it.}


and just like that, as quickly as they were made, our plans were cancelled.


"we don't have to go anywhere, babe. let's just stay in." i heard him whisper.


and yes. we do this every night. we sit on the couch, sometimes nestled in the crook of each other's arms. sometimes miles apart. sometimes munching on popcorn, and sometimes not.


but i declare, tonight, with its episodes of american idol and every-five-seconds nose nudging from pablo, was spectacular.


and it was still a date.


still a special, singular event.


and still the best part of my day, hands down.