I wore ripped jeans, a hooded sweatshirt and old tennis shoes.
We ran errands, more specifically hit the pharmacy for prescription refills, picked up medical supplies for our 3-year-old daughter, dropped off paperwork at my office and went shopping for a gift for some friends that recently had a baby.
We went to Five Guys. She ordered the little cheeseburger; I the full sized. We shared fries and a handful of peanuts. I told a rich and compelling story about Mexican Coca Cola.
Then we hit the gym, not to exercise, but to sit in the hot tub for a few minutes. The lifeguard asked me to scoot over because I was blocking some sort of – I don’t know – water escape hole. Two teenage boys next to us talking about weight lifting.
And that, ladies and germs, is how you woo a lady as a 35-year-old father of five. Holy crap I’m fortunate to be married.
To be fair, I was slightly more romantic a handful of children and 10 years ago than I proved during a Monday night date with my wife. Slightly. But romance has little to do with it any more. My wife and I are so busy with work – she’s a second-grade teacher – and kids and kids and kids and not sleeping that there’s hardly any time to just sit down and talk let alone scheme up something that would qualify as “special” to most people.
In fact, I’d be surprised if we’ve had even 10 nights out similar to Monday in the last three years. We’ve done the revolving-door routine – I leave when she gets home or vice versa – maybe 10 times more often. Our schedules, meaning mainly my work schedule as a sports reporter, just aren’t conducive to getting away.
And in those rare instances when we do get out, we’d just as soon slump over in the corner booth of a Burger King and fall into a coma. We joke that somebody should open a napping establishment, a place where exhausted adults can go and catch some shuteye. Just shuteye.
Originally Monday, we planned to hit up a nice new restaurant attached to a night club. How do I know it’s nice? Because Urbanspoon – my food Bible – gave it a three-$ rating. But putting on stain-free clothes was more work than either of us wanted to do.
So we drove around town, scarfed burgers and sat in a pool of others’ filth. We got going about 15 minutes late due to a dentist appointment and arrived home equally tardy. The 3.5-hour venture cost us $70 in nanny fees. (We need two of them for that length of time and at this time of day.)
It was worth every penny to be able to be a boring adult with my delightful wife and nobody else.