Real Life is so much better

20 years ago the boardgame "Dream Date" was already old. But yet, as any normal teenager, I certainly had my own idea of the perfect date.

Before I could drive, a great date was dressing up in my favorite pants and a knit sweater so my mom could drive me to the movies to meet my boyfriend. He would buy the tickets, the popcorn, and the soda and then let me wear his jacket afterward while we waited outside the theatre for my mom to pick me up. If I think hard enough? I can still remember the feel of his letterman jacket on my thin adolescent shoulders and the too strong scent of his cheap cologne.

Once I was officially an adult, a great date meant being picked up by someone with a great car. Someone who smoked a little and drank a little and wore black a little. Someone who was dangerous a little, but basically decent enough to open my door for me, pay for my "fancy" meal at a "fancy" restaurant (i.e., one that actually had waiters and waitresses, a bar, and menu's that weren't greasy plastic coated) and drive me back home and leave me with hot kisses that left us both wanting...but not necessarily wanting each other.

From there I graduated to a great date meaning candlelight, soft muted music, tablecloths and cloth napkins, a glass of wine and instead of hot kisses, a tender hopeful respectful kiss, the gentle touch of a hand on my hip, and the anticipation of a phone call the next day.

The Perfect Date used to be, simply, fulfilled anticipation.

Tonight I went on yet another perfect date. An older date, a more mature date. A date no less filled with anticipation or tender hopefullness than any other date 20 years ago.

He arrived at my door at at quarter to four. He kissed me gently on the cheek and then dissapeared again for over an hour while I cooked a meal for us to share. When he came back, there was the long warm hug that connected us from chest to thigh. We ate our meal and had a lively discussion. It was bright and sparkly, and the food was hot and filling. We left without dessert, the two of us on a mission. We spent the next hour together, hardly murmurring a word to each other - we both could tell what the other was thinking before words were spoken. We smiled, we laughed, we held hands. As our time drew to an end, we spent the drive home speaking softly to each other in the dark cold fall evening. Again, we kissed briefly, sweetly, so full of tender hope and love...

Oh right. Wait. This is real life right?

The hubs arrived home from work in just enough time to make a pit stop before running our youngest off to Karate. I quick stirred up a batch of Hamburger Helper (oh yes, I did!) in between feeding and changing the baby, doing 6th grade homework with Buddy, and sniping at Chick who was lazing on the computer. When hubs and Bear came in from Karate we all hurled ourselves to the table to scarf down the meal in a box while discussing Buddy's late homework and missing binder, Chick's independant study project which she defensively declared was "fine, just fine, what? what? what's wrong with fine?" and Bears standard "the lunchroom gives me a headache". When the last mushy noodle had been consumed, we quick packed up the baby, left Chick in charge of Buddy and Bear (and homework and dishes - neither of which got done of course) and we made a mad dash to the grocery store for the all important ever dissapearing food that costs too much and is gone too quick. Baby screeched, baby cried, baby smiled and babbled for strangers, our credit card reached it's max and I forgot I had left the double stroller in the back of the van thus reducing the amount of space available for the feeding habits of 5 picky people for a weeks worth of breakfast lunch and dinner. Not to mention snacks. And baby food. And cat litter.

We did smile, and laugh. We did hold hands. And we did communicate with barely a word. And we did, oh yes, drive home in the dark cold fall night and murmur softly to each other. And in about 15 minutes? I'll still be both deliverer and recipient of those hot kisses... that leave us both wanting... but needing to sleep more than anything else. Tomorrow's another day, another chance, another anticipated perfect date... this time to Home Depot... another chance to be with the man I love, the children I cherish, and the life I always hoped I'd have.

Real life? It's priceless.