THE “USUAL” DATES

It’s been a long time since my husband asked me out on a date. Sure we go out every now and then. After work, he’d sometimes call or text me to ask if, what or where I want to eat; he’d pick me up from the house or we’d meet some place. On Sunday, we usually go out for lunch or dinner, or order pizza and chicken for take-out while we watch scary movies on our computer. When we want to chill out, we go to our favorite bar and have some cocktails.

We often go out, but “going out” has become so common that we don’t really call them dates. Of course, we still enjoy each other’s company, and when we are together, we are the same “sweet” couple that we were before we tied the knot (except when I complain about how pricey the cocktail is or how terrible the pasta tastes, and hubby takes it as a form of nagging… but, well, these are completely different stories, which RARELY happen now, so forget that I mentioned them).

THE DATE I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO 

This morning, while he was getting ready for work and I was fixing him coffee, he asked me if I can wake up early on Sunday. We always wake up late on the weekend, so I figured he has a plan to go somewhere this Sunday.

“Can you wake up at 8?”

“If I have to. Why?”

“We are going somewhere.”

“Where are we going?”

“On a date.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yes… but you have to wake up early.”

“I will, I will.” I was beaming and clapping with glee and excitement, not merely because my husband told me that we were going somewhere on Sunday, but mostly because he called it a date.

THE FIRST DATE

What’s so exciting about a date, you may ask?

Back when we were boyfriend and girlfriend, my husband would not call our dates “DATES”. The moments we spent together, the memories, the conversations we’ve had during those not-so “datish” dates were all beautiful… fantastic… magical, but us going out became so natural from the time I lost a deal with him and I had to buy him a beer and squid balls that we didn’t think we were dating every time we went out. We weren’t in a relationship ”yet” when I lost the deal. We weren’t friends either. He’s three years older than me, and according to Korean culture, people who don’t belong to the same age bracket can’t be friends. I didn’t even know what we were that time, other than “he’s my tutee and I’m his teacher, and when he gets tired of our lessons, we go out for some drinks or watch a movie instead”.

Suddenly, he called me one day and asked if I had a plan on the weekend. I didn’t have any plans, so when he suggested we try the new coffee shop in our subdivision, I said, “Yes”. For the first time, there were butterflies in my stomach. I was confused, nervous, but at the same time, happy that it wasn’t just another after-class session. We were going out on a weekend, and that was something.

I never cared whether or not there was “something”. I used to care more about what he learned from me. I am a very dedicated teacher, after all.

However, as Saturday was coming, I became miserable, wrestling with my subconscious thoughts,thinking whether or not there really was something or if I did the right thing when I accepted his invitation to go out with him on the weekend when I could have gone shopping with my girl friends. “Should I go out with him? Is it a date? It must be a date. What if I think it is, and he thinks it’s not? What if I bring a book, and I ask him to bring his electronic dictionary and his notebook, so none of us assumes it’s a date? No, silly! It’s a date. It’s a date, okay? You are not to be his teacher on Saturday. You are his date… and you should look your best.”

Alas! Saturday came. I slept all morning and when I woke up, I started rummaging through my closet to find the right dress to wear for the evening. Was I excited? You tell me. I spent hours getting ready for the date or “whatever” it was. 

An hour before our engagement, he called to say he was ready. I thought that he would be waiting for me at the coffee shop, but I was surprised to see him outside my house, waiting in the car. He must have waited there for a long time, but he was smiling and his eyes had that gentle, entrancing look as he was telling me that I made him wait too long. Every time I was late for our class, he would look at the clock and make a face, but not that night. I could smell his aftershave when I sat next to him. It turned out that I wasn’t the only one who wanted to look my best. He did a lot of prepping up, too. He looked different, very handsome in fact. He had a hair cut and his hair was nicely gelled. I used to see him in round neck T-shirt and shorts every time I went to his house for our class, but on our first “official” date, he was clad in white collared semi-fitted shirt and blue jeans that I was certain he had not worn for days. In the car, we were quiet, but we always had something to talk about. That night, it was as if we were both at a loss for words. (Avril Lavigne‘s “Complicated” suddenly comes to mind. ^^)

Finally, we were at the coffee shop. Actually, we didn’t need a car to get there. The coffee shop is just a few blocks away from my house. We could have just walked. I knew he was trying to impress me. Besides the car, the after-shave, the gelled hair and the new look, he was being extra nice towards me. He was more amiable, and he didn’t tease me at all. He used to kid around and say things that made me want to punch him in the face so hard, but that night, he told me only good things, not flattery, “happy” things, “real” things… and I think that’s when I saw him differently… and I began to like him more. (MYMP‘s “A Little Bit” is playing in my head at the moment.)

We were just getting started. The waitress handed us the menu, and we were going to have pasta, but crap, the phone… his phone rang!

His friend probably needed the car he borrowed PRONTO that he had to leave in a couple of minutes, so we decided to order drinks instead.

Until now, I don’t know why he borrowed that car… or why he kept saying, “This isn’t my plan. Sorry, this isn’t my plan.” (I wonder what his plan was. I asked him, and he said he can’t remember.)

It could have been a magnificent first date, if that’s what it was, but well, there had been many wonderful dates after that, and I’m sure there will be more. It doesn’t matter if we think of them as dates or not. What’s important is that we enjoy “being together” and we build great memories out of them.

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