One of my most favourite things to do in the whole wide world is have date night with me. Never planned or anticipated, these special evenings usually begin with two things:
1. A grumbling in my stomach.
2. The realization that I have neither kids nor boyfriend to worry about, entertain, disagree with (pick one).
Next, the internal dialogue goes something like this:
“I’m hungry. Oh crap, Greg isn’t here to cook for me. Hey wait a minute! The kids aren’t here either. IDEA: I’ll go out! Oh. But I really should work on my cooking disability.”
Wherein I take a peek inside my usually scarcely inventoried fridge.
“Hmmmm. I wonder what kind of omelet I could make with . . . oh. Nothing. I know. A PLAIN omelet.”
Wherein I make a face – similar to that of a small child sucking a lemon.
Then I look in the food pantry.
“I could always make a peanut butter sandwich. Again.
Or a bowl of Fruit Loops.”
Wherein my stomach growls loudly:
“Hellll-OOOOO. We’re dying down here!”
And then the justifying begins.
Excuses Reasons why I must go out now include:
– Today could be the day that I starve to death.
– It’s not my fault that my kids aren’t here to make sure that I eat.
– I have to finish the content for that website tonight and I can’t work like this. Who can work when they’re dying of hunger?
At this point I get my way with myself and head out with my writing pad.
9 times out of 10 I end up at my favourite Thai restaurant; partly because I love Thai but mostly because it’s the only decent restaurant within a 12 minute drive from my house. Gabriel, the waiter there, thinks I’m a loser with no friends. Truth be known, sitting there, by myself, with my writing pad and glass of wine . . . well that’s just heaven on earth to me.
While it’s true that when I go out on date night with myself, I have to pay (bummer), the upside is that I always respect myself in the morning.
And so this is why I love date nights with me.
Caveat: The events and conversations herein are not a re-enactment. They are true occurrences of, well, last night.
PS. I actually wrote this during my date last night – instead of working on that website. Sorry Mr. Client (you know who you are). But if you’ll check your email, you’ll see that I was up very early this morning and finished it on time 🙂
PPS. While sitting there last night, a Mia Farrow look-alike (pre the aging thing) was sitting two tables from me. She was out on a date with a man with a huge hook-nose. As much as I tried, I just couldn’t imagine them kissing (even AFTER my glass of wine). I tried to “discreetly” take a picture of them to show you but every time I tried to bring my phone up to snap the picture, they would look at me suspiciously. Plus, quasi-Mia’s date was wearing a poncho and I think I’m a little bit afraid of men in their 60s who wear ponchos.
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