Jason and I have never been very much for dating. When we first got together, we were a long-distance couple. We didn’t see each other very often (about every four to six weeks), so when we were together, we chose to stay in. When we married, we were on completely different shifts, me student teaching bright and early in the morning and him working retail until late at night. We then moved, got pregnant, moved again, got pregnant three more times in under three years, and found that staying home was way easier (and cheaper) than trying to find a babysitter for four young kids.
|One of our best dates|
But finding babysitters and time are just excuses. The real reason that we don’t date is because we are very bad at it. We will occasionally have a nice time out with just the two of us, but those are the exceptions. Our bad dates tend to be atrocious. I submit the following:
- We were on vacation. My parents stayed with the kids while we went to see Spiderman 3 (so there’s already THAT). We didn’t pay attention to our exit number and got completely lost when we came home. Added probably 3 hours to our trip. Massive thunderstorm, screaming at each other, all within about one mile of the hotel the whole time.
- We decided that we really wanted to attend the Rally To Restore Sanity. Got there in (what we thought was) plenty of time to take the Metro to DC and see our two favorite satirists. Were hours late, saw none of the rally, had to walk for hours trying to find a place to pee, then walked the entirely wrong direction to find dinner and ended up walking an additional 30 or so blocks out of our way. Pissed off my in-laws because we were getting back about 6 hours late and wouldn’t be able to pick up our kids at the right time. Also, he slept the entire drive to DC and I slept the entire drive home.
- First night out after Jason graduated. Got all fancied up for a night out. Received a call from our daughter about 15 minutes after we left that her brother had just yakked everywhere and we needed to come home. Grabbed Chinese from our favorite restaurant on our way home, only to discover that it had new owners who make the worst food ever.
- Another vacation mishap. We were drawing a nice, romantic hot tub to set the mood for a night of marital relations. Had just entered the bubbles when the single most terrifying, obnoxious sound happened. The hotel’s fire alarm was going off.
- Last Friday Jason had the day off. After weeks of travel and weekends that were entirely too full to really have any quality time, we had a whole day together while the kids were in school. We went out to lunch. Terrible service, overpriced meal, and the topper? Jason’s margarita had an olive garnish. An olive. In a margarita.
Tell me about your worst date. Or tell me about your best date. It’s okay, I promise I won’t get THAT jealous.