I like spending time with my wife, without the kids.
Going out for a romantic dinner or even a boozy lunch, enjoying each other’s company and pretending life is as it was before you became parents, or became roommates, or became contractually obligated to run out the string, is a critical part of a healthy relationship.
But I hate date night.
Again, I don’t hate going on dates with my wife. I also don’t hate night-time; any stretch of time during which my kids are sleeping is good with me! (Not that The Hammer is sleeping much lately that son of a bitch. No offense, wife.) I do kind of hate the movie Date Night, because it’s terrible, but I hate the term “date night” the most because it’s even more terrible.
I just don’t like saying “date night”. I don’t like hearing other people say “date night”. As if marriage weren’t emasculating enough, being forced to arrange “date nights” is the final snip. I don’t want to say it anymore.
More importantly, the idea of the date night, of needing to set aside specially designated events to be romantic and have fun with your spouse, as if you couldn’t possibly achieve those things without classifying it, is depressing. And I think it gives marriage a bad rap.
If the only time married people have fun is when there’s a special event, it’s no wonder so few marriages last. There’s nothing my wife likes more than a special event, but we can have fun, and romance, and enjoy each other’s company, without needing to weigh things down with the forced expectations that come with planning, and labeling something, a “date night”.
If your typical, generic, everyday life as husband and wife doesn’t offer at least some opportunity for fun and romance and adult-time, all the special “date nights” in the world aren’t going to save your union.
So, sure, we can go out this weekend, just Mom and Buried and me. We can go to a fancy cocktail bar or a hidden speakeasy where bartenders take 45 minutes to make a drink that costs way too much and she probably won’t like, then we can have a nice, candlelit dinner at a fancy reservation-required restaurant where everything is farm-to-table and costs way too much and the portions are too small, then we can take a fancy Uber home where we spend the whole ride praying we don’t get killed and the fare costs way too much and get charged twice because their app sucks.
I’m willing to do it all for the mother of my children, all I want in return is to stop hearing the term “date night.”