dates just ain't what they used to be

I've been waiting for it for weeks. Months. (Well, about one and a half.) My next trip to the movies, one of my favorite things to do. And today, I did it.

One thing I love about having plans is the anticipation that I can build up looking forward to them. Dana and I have talked about this before, and she's even mentioned it in her blog before. I love, love, love having something to look forward to and get excited about. Half the fun (at least) is in the anticipation of the thing. Al's the opposite. He refuses to anticipate anything, for fear that he'll be disappointed. So those of you who ask me if he's excited about the baby, well, have you ever seen Al excited? Really? About anything? It's because he won't let himself anticipate. Anyway.

When I was thinking about the movie thing late last week, I was thinking of it in my head as a "date" with my husband. Ooo, I thought, we can do a movie/dinner thing (in that order, so I have room for buttery movie theater popcorn). Maybe use that restaurant gift certificate he got for his birthday. Have one last fun, relaxing time (evening), just the two of us, one last time before the baby comes. Won't this be fun? Maybe even a little romantic (although I'm not looking for any physical action here, definitely not in my state). Problem is, if I want an evening/date like that, I better be very explicit with my husband about what it is that I want. Because I know by now that (a) he likes to go to the very earliest show in the day to both save money and avoid crowds; (b) if I want a restaurant other than Kerby's, I better ask for it or we're heading straight there (and we didn't actually make it there until six hours after the movie today); and (c) my husband doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. Or thought in his head. And probably really hasn't, ever. What was I thinking, he'd all of the sudden get into my head and figure everything out? As if that's ever worked.

I'm not complaining, just saying that I need to be a bit more practical when it comes to "dates" with my husband. We headed out to see New in Town (it was good, Harry Connick Jr. better than Rene Zellweger) around 12:20pm. (Told you, early show.) Al immediately turns National Public Radio down so it is barely audible (even though we're in my car and I have a thing with him fiddling with my radio) and starts patting all of his pockets for his phone. "Why are you looking for your phone?" I ask, thinking, Some date.

"I need to call Rick and Todd so they don't call during the movie," Al replies.

"Oh, yes," I say a bit sarcastically, "because they both call you on a daily basis." (They do. Practically. And one of them--Todd--has a habit of calling during my alone time with Al, when I've been especially craving it. I don't know how he does it, but he has this sixth sense--to which he's absolutely oblivious--about calling exactly when it will tick Rhonda off the most. And wanting to talk for twenty minutes.) Al tries to call Todd. No answer.

"So now he'll call during the movie anyway," I say. "He'll see your missed call. Be sure to silence your phone." Al calls Rick. Although he woke up crabby and has been yelling at the dog and short with me all morning, Al sounds like the happiest guy in the world when Rick answers. Sure, save your happy voice for your buddies, I think. Not mad, exactly. Just jealous. And maybe a bit hurt. And wondering how he can fake it so well (or else change his attitude so fast depending on who he's talking to). But the phone cuts out, and he doesn't get through again--or get a return call--before we reach the theater.

Despite this, I'm in a good mood. We're going to the movies! We go, eat popcorn, sit in the dark, watch the movie, and then head home, no mention of lunch or anything else fun. I say, "We never go on dates anymore," realizing that I didn't set this day up like one in his head, thus shouldn't expect it to be like one.

"This is a date," he said.

"No it's not," I replied. "Not when you spend the entire way here trying to call and talk to your friends on the phone and then we sit in the dark without talking and then head home. A date's supposed to be about me--and you--and not involve phone conversations with Rick and Todd. I think we better have some better dates after the baby comes along, is all."

(Argh--this is the third time I've had to get up for the dog during the writing of this post. First, she was way too quiet--and eating a spare piece of trim from the baby's room. Second, she was way too quiet--and eating a plastic shelving hook that had fallen to floor in the baby's room. Third, she was whining--one of her signs that she wants to go out, although Al let her out only fifteen minutes ago and has now left me alone [again], this time to go measure his parents' attic for the spare insulation they've decided they need and he's volunteered to install even though he has a ton of stuff to do around here and a baby on the way. Knowing him, he'll probably do it in the time he takes off to be at home with me and baby. But argh. Can't wait until Mya's out of the puppy stage. Puppies are not cuter than grown dogs. Not in the least.)

Anyway, enough of the interruption. Sorry about that. Where were we? Oh, yes. Well, I guess my dates with Al were never actually romantic; they usually involved some club or bar, dancing, a few drinks and a few friends (or at least Dennis). Many times we didn't even leave the house until 10:00pm, and now I'm in bed by then. And although our dates aren't what they used to be--and I definitely wouldn't want them to be now, since I'm too old for that now--I still would like some good old fashioned alone time in which we can have fun, talk, maybe hang out with friends (although not all the time, because that would not be "alone" time), maybe even make out a little (these days I have to ask for a "real kiss" if I want anything more than a peck at bedtime). This would be after the baby arrives, of course, and would involve a sitter. But before these dates occur--which I'll be happily anticipating--I'll have to remind myself to tell Al what I have in mind. Otherwise, well, his idea of a date just ain't what I have in mind--or even what it used to be. :)

Ahh. Mya calls again, jumping against the glass door to be let in. And with that I'll leave you...