The funny thing about DATE NIGHT

Stephanie C - 31 Jan 16

This weekend, my lovely mummy came to visit London for the sole purpose of giving me and hubster a chance ‘to do something nice.’  We don’t have babysitters on speed dial as our ENTIRE families live in other countries, on opposite ends of the planet and given that we’ve only managed one night out together since our son was born 9 months ago, this ‘something nice’ was apparently, officially a ‘date night.’  We used to have date nights all the time in our past life, when we’d go out eating, drinking, dancing – except we never called them ‘date nights’ we just called it life.  It’s Tuesday evening, you fancy a burger, I fancy red wine, let’s leave the confines of our living room and make it happen. 

So this ‘date’ was shaping up to be a big deal and with this knowledge, came the pressure to get it just right.  To have the date night of all date nights. To make it so wonderful and so special that even if it is ages before we do it again, it doesn’t matter because the memory of this one will be so golden, it’ll keep us going strong.  Problem was, neither of us had any clue what a night like that could be or what it consists of.

We toyed with all sorts of ideas; the theatre, (quiet, sophisticated, no children) escaping London for a day on the coast, (adventurous, carefree, no children) dinner at a reeeeeally posh restaurant on top of a tall building in central London, (views, fancy, no children) but in the end we settled for something much more traditional – dinner and a movie.  At least, that’s the way they say it in the, eh, movies and yes, that does seem like the obvious order of play but we switched it up a bit and went to the cinema first.  That way, I thought, if we don’t have anything to say to each other about actual life anymore, we could at least talk about the film – we could even talk about other films the actors had been in if things got really bad.  This all might seem ridiculous, but conversation was a genuine concern – it feels like MONTHS since we chatted about anything that wasn’t baby-related – and worrying about what we’d have to say to each other made it feel like we were in first date territory.  I’d be wearing heels for God’s sake so the pressure was on for both of us to bring the funny and the chat.

We got to the cinema about 20 minutes early which was a dilemma in itself – do we grab a quick drink at a nearby bar or just stick it out and people watch? My date, apparently totally unaware of the significance of this night, decided we should just get popcorn, sit in the foyer and look around (FFS – I need wine. Why am I nervous? Maybe I can start a conversation about by new lipstick…) No need.  Husband started chin-wagging.  First about nothing in particular; just a comment about nice man-shoes he saw stomping by, the architecture of the building (he’s into that), why salted is better than sweet.  Then he started being funny.  Like, haha funny, not weirdo funny.  Cos I totally forgot – he’s a funny f***er.  He cracked jokes and took the piss out of passers-by (we all do it, don’t lie) and soon enough we were tittering away like teenagers in the early throws of romance.  Hehe haha! My husband’s so hilarious! #swoon #sorryaboutpublicswooning

Before we knew it, it was time for the movie to start so off we trotted to pick a good seat – near the back, centre of the row, pretty standard – except I’m short, so this process usually involves me having a good old moan and stressing out about who’s going to sit in front of me – often someone 7ft tall with a fat head or high hair.  Seems, however, that the date Gods were in our favour and they allowed us the perfect seat with no ill-considered hair dos to annoy very short wife.  Nice.  Relax.  So, film starts and does its filmy sorta thing, blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda… until – wait for it – this is awesome… we held hands!  Ok, we have a kid so we’ve obviously held hands (and what not) before but this was a real hand-hold, a natural one where we did it cos that’s what you do on a date and cos it was lovely.  I even found myself having a sneaky side-ways glance at him and thinking “didn’t I do well with this guy? Isn’t he just swell?”  That’s the power of date night, it makes you think words like ‘swell’ as though you’re an extra in the Brady Bunch.  Swell.

After the movie, we skipped off for dinner and beer.  Conversation, as predicted, centred round the film for a while – because it really was a good one – then there was a gradual shift; out of nowhere, I became aware that we’d stopped talking about the movie and somehow, sometime, had begun talking about OTHER STUFF.  Life stuff.  I learned new things about exciting projects he’s involved in at work, we chatted about how great(ish) it is that I get to go back to work soon so I can use my brain and spend more money, we were reconnecting (to use a really wanky term) and it was brilliant.  Mid-week, after we’ve done all the parenty things, we’re both so tired that all we ever manage to do is grunt exhaustedly at one another about what TV show to watch/fall asleep in front of.  Needless to say, we rarely manage the sort of conversations that keep your relationship feeling ‘new.’  You know, new information, finding a ‘new’ side of your partner, introducing a ‘new’ idea for a holiday or a ‘new’ theory of why exactly Southern Trains’ service is just so terrible.  Date night was becoming less about being out without a clingly little person and more about us – as people, not just parents.  That’s not to say that we didn’t talk about baby boy at all, of course.  At one point we might have, maybe, sort of got our phones out and spent 5 minutes just scrolling through pictures of him and zooming in on his wee, perfect face.  But that’s completely normal for new parents, isn’t it?

After a couple of alcohol-infused hours, dinner was done and we were on a roll so headed elsewhere for another drink.  We found a bar with hot cider (I was cold and apparently 80) and a nice atmosphere.  At this stage, we were a good few drinks in and feeling tipsy, happy and flirty – perfect.  Although it was glorious being snuggled up in front of an open fire, we decided to call it a night after one drink – parenthood is way too unpredictable to get too crazy so we hopped on the night bus home and finally got into bed at about 1.30am, congratulating ourselves on a successful night out.  Not bad going for a couple of old, boring people.

Thanks to our very generous visitor (and copious amounts of drink) we woke up today much later than usual and could have just stayed there enjoying the fact that bubs was in safe hands nearby.  We could have even tried to go back to sleep – a rare luxury – but instead, what was the first thing we did?  We legged it down stairs for baby-boy cuddles and he was SO. DAMN. CUTE.  Even cuter than yesterday, I’m sure.  He actually LOL’d when he saw us!  #moreswooning.  Perhaps we should have completely embraced the fact that Nanny was happy to entertain him all day, and extended date night to date morning but let’s be honest, we missed our son because he’s awesome.  And as it turns out, it doesn’t matter how special the date or how fantastic the movie, no matter how much time we spend talking about what’s going on at work or what colour a new lipstick, the thing that really connects us and will keep us connected, is our gorgeous little boy.  We became parents together, we leapt over the parapet and into the unknown together, we’d no idea what to do or what to expect but we were, and often are, clueless together.  We’ll keep needing date nights of course, to refresh, reflect, eat dinner with both hands – and hopefully we’ll manage to escape little boy every once in a while to remember what it’s like to be people again but now, we’re not just people, we’re parents and we’re his parents.

When he came into this world, he was all I wanted.  I wouldn’t have understood then how much I’d eventually come to need some alone time with my husband with no distractions so we could just be ‘us,’ whatever that is – or was.  But ironically, even less would I understand the enormous, inescapable  need to return home to our son; to cut date night short so that we be with the mini-tornado again and get back to being mummy and daddy.  That’s the funny thing about date night, I suppose – its rarity is what makes it special but nothing beats being a teeny tiny family, lazing in our PJs on a Sunday morning.  It’s a beautiful thing, even when it is within the haze of a hangover.

Stephanie C

Two boy mama, Irish, Londoner, secondary English teacher, runner, occasional climber, pun enthusiast, laugh-out-loud-er, insta-addict Follow me on Instagram: @seppicino Intersted in contributing to my personal blog? www.dearstupidparents.com - all writer's welcome

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