Date Night

Last night we had our first “date night” since Punky was born on December 28th. Mom came up yesterday afternoon, even though we didn’t technically need her to watch the baby this week since Friday’s news. I asked her to still come for a few days, so he can deal with all of the paperwork and such that goes along with a job loss. I think it will be a hard transition and it won’t take long for him to get frustrated with staying home.

Anyway, we decided to take advantage of her being there and go out to dinner alone. I’d been carrying around a gift certificate from Christmas, just waiting to find time to use it. Last night we finally made time.

Upon conclusion, I was a little dismayed to see that our first date night post-partum was exactly how I’ve seen it portrayed many times on TV. Most of the conversation (the little bit there was) revolved around the baby, and if not her than his other two sons.

He spent the first half of our dinner staring past me trying to figure out if a guy in the next section was someone he worked with years ago.

We spent the last twenty minutes or so watching another couple with a baby girl about Punky’s age, and comparing everything about her to our own little princess. Of course Punky won all categories; there was really no comparison at all.

In between we exchanged some comments about how absolutely delicious the food was, and sampled each other’s choices. As we left the restaurant, we complained how we ate entirely too much.

Then we drove home, mostly in silence, with the occasional spurt of small talk about a passing car, our full stomachs, the speed limit on a section of road, or his need to pee.

We were home at 8:15.

We didn’t make an much of an effort to look good for one another; I think we both managed a quick shower. We didn’t dress up. No fancy cologne or perfume in the air. No romantic music on the drive to and fro. No flirtatious gestures or remarks. No stimulating conversation. No wine or spirits with dinner. No footsie under the table. No expectation of a sexual encounter to follow.

It was simply dinner. And surprisingly, that's okay with me. But the other stuff could’ve been nice, too.