Tell Me I’ll Never Have To Be Out There Again
Watching people on a date. It can be like flame licking along wax. You know they’re just going through the motions, because they’ve already set the table on fire.
You fantasize about those dates, right? Even when you’re long married.
Because you remember what it was like to be on the other kind of date.
The one where you pretend to care about the prattles of your table mate. You wish they’d go to the bathroom so you could sop up the last dregs of wine and gobble your remaining dessert in peace, because you haven’t said anything substantial about yourself in three hours.
I observed one of those dates tonight, on the eve of the eve of my tenth anniversary. Have you ever had an impossible time enjoying a collision with food nirvana because you can relate to the dynamics at the next table? Maybe you remember what it was like to be IT in hide-and-seek, only you never found anybody? Or you hid and were never found?
That’s what dating felt like to me.
I worry about being out there again. A lot. Because I don’t think I live up to the mate I’ve been given. Marriage is a perpetual game of changing things up. Of accepting what is. And what is not. Of making what could be reality.
MTM and I spent some time today talking about how to improve our marriage in the coming year. If you could do one new thing in your marriage, what would you do? Maybe your suggestions will add things to our list, or cause you to start a list of your own. Either way, that’s a win.