Because the problem with date night is that it’s still, you know, a date. A date that I was hoping never to have to go through again after getting married. I was so done with the messy, unpredictable world of dating and I was so ready for the comfortable, lukewarm certainty of marriage. Before we had a kid we didn’t need date nights to have an adult conversation or a meal that lasted more than five minutes. But now, date nights have become a necessity and suddenly, we are back to the pressure of having to carry on a witty conversation, to put on cute underwear, to make small talk over dinner and then at the end of the evening, to have sex.
The pressure is different than when we were really just dating, but it’s pressure all the same. This time, instead of wanting to impress or seduce, I always find myself wanting to prove that we are still a hip and happening couple and not exhausted parents who go to bed at 9 p.m. I still remember the excitement of our first dates — the butterflies, the sparks, the giggling. I know it’s still in us somewhere, buried under 12 years of marriage. Can we bring it back? Can we recapture what brought us together in the first place? Is that even something we should do?