Tomorrow night is date night.
I have had a dress waiting this night for WEEKS. I'm excited. Food, wine, small bag.
We need this. Without drifting too far into the realms of things that are too personal to share; we need this. I'm noticing little holes in what we know each other's lives the last month or two.
A "did I not tell you?" here and a "when did you talk to him?" there. A thought will pop into my head and I'll realise I didn't say, tell, ask this or that.
Why? We're busy. He walks in and it's brief exchanges of "Good day?"
"Yeah! Now can you...?" And we dive into domestic divisions of jobs and favours, Christmas calendar negotiations, dinner, tv, bed.
Most surprising is that ME the worlds biggest over sharer finds herself here. I LOVE to talk. I love to share. I understand how normal people find themselves in a position where they have a new baby and busy family life have left less time for conversation. But not me. I (and probably everyone who knows me) always assumed my motivation to overshare BOUNDLESS.
Apparently not. Cue date night. Talking. Fill in the holes. (Must not make inappropriate pun here.)
Date night's good. Talk, talk, talk.