We learned a valuable lesson last night: there have to be rules for date night.
Now, date night does already have a few rules. One of those is that it is a night set aside for the two of us. Another is that it is something planned and prepared for. But we never made any rules around the conversation. Oops.
Dinner is wonderful. Brian takes me to Chez Zee, where we gluttonously devour a cheese tray and our entrees and a sampler dessert. We are hurting a little. But I have this rule about date night not being just dinner. It needs to include a stroll, an activity, a drink at another venue– something in addition to the meal. So, we roll ourselves out of the restaurant and head to Black Star Co-op.
Love this place. Great beer and super tasty food. We sit down with our beers and begin to chat. Well, sort of. Last night my mind was occupied by something I’ve been struggling with all summer. It’s something Brian and I have talked about a lot, but haven’t resolved or put to rest. And as we sat there staring at each other, it was consuming my thoughts, in much the same way that we consumed all that cheese at dinner.
Brian sees that I’m in deep thought. He asks about it. I don’t budge. He pushes. I resist. He has no idea that I’m struggling internally. He pushes again, and then… word vomit. In the middle of Black Star, with our lovely beers before us, I blurt out everything I’m agonizing over. We chat. It gets really tough. We both think the other isn’t hearing us. It gets tense. The beer is no longer tasty. Date night is over.
Thus, the new rule for date night: since this night is for enjoying one another and investing in our marriage, save the tough conversations for another night.