Who loves date night?! Who hardly ever has date nights?! I confess, my husband and I are terribly bad at dating each other. I’m sure there are some fellow peeps out there who can relate yea? I fear that my hopes and dreams of my husband organising another date night in the near future have been smashed by our last, miserable, failed attempt at going on a date! It went something like this…
We hadn’t been on a date since, well, I actually can’t remember when – probably last year before our now 7 month old daughter was born. This one night, my husband organised a babysitter and planned to take me out for dinner – just the two of us – nice and romantic, relaxing and fun right? It started out alright. We gave our two children dinner and put them to bed before getting in the car and driving away to our date of all dates destination – Parkes! Now, I did try to be very boring and convince my husband we should stay in Forbes and go to our regular place because at least we know it’s nice and affordable and every other practical reason I could find to go there. However, this was boring, I admit it too, yes, it’s boring to go to the same place over and over, so my husband won – we were off to Parkes to find somewhere new.
He had a place in mind but after lapping the main street of Parkes AND googling this place we couldn’t find it anywhere, so we decided to go to a pub that we thought looked nice and decent. Now, I will give you this advice, don’t fall for the pretty lighting and nice chairs and tables, they are deceiving! So, we park outside this pub and BAM! Anxiety attack hits me out of nowhere. It’s ok, I’ll stay calm and keep it together, just breathe and think about camels pirouetting in rainbow tights while balancing teapots on their humps, everything will be ok. We walk into the restaurant and it’s totally empty. I whisper to Nic “Um, maybe this place isn’t very good.” We sheepishly ask them if they are actually open, the answer is ‘yes’, we order some steaks, and we sit down to wait. We think, maybe it would be nice to escape the pub scene and go to the lookout under the stars and eat. Yes Please! Meanwhile, camels don’t cure anxiety attacks so I turn to Nic, excuse myself, and step outside for some air. Nic gets tired of waiting, so he comes outside in the cold to join me and we walk around the block. After about half an hour, our food is ready and they call us up to grab it. Now it gets awkward, Nic asks the waiter, “Do you have any plastic cutlery we can take with us?” The waiter goes and has a look, comes out after a few minutes and says, “No we don’t sorry.” I began to turn towards the door with our food so we could leave but Nic just stays there, looking at the waiter, not saying a word. I try to nudge him to go. After a long awkward pause he says to the waiter, “oh, that makes it difficult.” ????Really honey? Lets just go and buy some from the grocery shop and leave this awkward moment behind I think. Nope, it goes on. The waiter says, “Where are you going?” Nic replies, “The lookout.” Oh my, now this just sounds seedy. I felt like a rebellious teenager sneaking out with their friends and going to the lookout to get into mischief. I don’t remember the rest, we left, it felt good to leave and bury my head in the darkness of our car. Now it just felt dorky. We go to Coles and buy plastic knives and forks…and some baby wipes for the kids because we just remembered we were out. Now it feels seedy again. We get to the checkout and had the strangest conversation with the man serving us about winter clothes and sunshine. We get back out to the car and I decide to open up my container of dinner. Usually I’m not a picky person, I take what comes but I noticed my food was drowning in an ocean of butter and I don’t eat dairy, so, Nic being the lovely husband he is, takes it back to the pub to see what they can do. He comes back 10 minutes later. “They said it was juice from the steak” I’m no restaurant expert but I’ve never seen a big puddle of yellow juice come out of a well cooked steak before. By now its about 9pm and I’m so hungry my belly is roaring at me like a bear chasing after a squirrel, so we decide to drive home so I can make a sandwich to eat.
By now I was giggling at the whole night but my husband understandably got mad at the lameness of it. We ended up laughing all the way home at what a complete fail of a date it was. In the end, the point was to spend time together and enjoy each other’s company and that’s exactly what we did – even if it wasn’t the way we imagined. The whole nigt was a complete date night fail but I actually don’t think I would change it. I got to spend the night with the one my heart loves and we learned the valuable life lesson of not staring down waiters when they don’t give you plastic cutlery – it gets awkward!