This morning I fix my husband with a steely glare and ask him why, oh why in the almost four years we’ve been parents, has he never arranged childcare so he and I could have a date? Or perhaps I’m wrong. Maybe I’m forgetting a time or two that he has. I can’t think of any right now, but! After a beat he mentions acquiring Rachel, his coworker’s teenage daughter, for one evening a few months ago.
“Anything else?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Silence.
“… Nothing’s coming down the e-pipe,” He finally says. His eyes dart all over the room.
I’m thinking of Valentine’s Day and, more specifically, a group of seven women I met at the spa this Saturday. Their husbands met in quasi-stealth over a period of weeks pervious and arranged not just an all-day spa event but also a limo and trip to a fancy restaurant for a group date. And who knows what else! This story was going around the spa and the rest of us ladies were very impressed and, of course, a teensy bit envious. Of course, each and every one of those men can probably expect, if not a good bj that night from a relaxed and (likely) tipsy wife, at least a nicer temprament from their lovely brides for a few days. Tit for tat, so to speak.
My husband would probably (literally) do anything I asked for a date. Like many male partners I know, he’d place the call or drop off the kids or move the carseats ad nauseam. I guess what turned on the women hearing this story at the spa was the fact the dudes took it all on themselves. The ultimate aphrodisiac; a male who acts like the man he used to be (while courting), not another one of our children (sorry – it’s harsh, but it’s Truth).
I guess don’t really have any complaints about my husband. Or at least, the ones I do, I’m not going to air here. I did like seeing him get all weaselly and evasive this morning when I posed my simple question. And I guess for the near future I can continue to expect to take any self-pampering – or any dates with The Man – into my own hands.