The Holbs and I like to do this thing, where we plan a night out, get in the car, drive aimlessly about town until one of us is able to suggest a place to eat that both of us agrees on, decide we're too lazy to go see a movie, drive to the rental store instead, wander around the shelves of DVDs for a while, disagree on what looks interesting, and leave with either a) no movies, or b) five movies.
It's romantic.
The other Wednesday I decided we were going to have a real date. With heels and lipstick. Possibly even dinner reservations?
You know it has been a while since you've been on a proper date when your husband responds with, "What does that mean?"
In my tallest shoes I met my Holbsy for our date at our predetermined meeting point - the living room.
We got into the car and drove to the new restaurant in town. We thought it was open already, but it wasn't! Confused, we sat in the car and pondered our culinary futures.
"Well, there's Applebees . . ."
"Or Sangria?"
"I feel like a burger," I added, for inspiration.
"Applebees, then." The Holbs seemed certain. I was relieved. I suppose I should not have fallen for it.
As soon as we reached the first traffic light things went awry. Our car became perfectly aimless, taking nonsensical left turns and slowing in front of restaurants so The Holbs could gauge his interest. "How about Red Bento?" he offered, and I died inside. My Holbsdate was breaking all the rules. I could feel the icy desolation creeping in as we passed the Red Bento. Destination: nowhere.
And then I saw the Zips! The Zips would save me!
Lickety split we pulled into a parking stall, but suddenly The Holbs had second thoughts.
"Zips?" he questioned. "Wouldn't you rather eat somewhere nice?" And also, "Are you really sure?"
I wasn't, but good gracious, I mean, whatever!
After our burgers (not so great) we wandered around the rental shelves for a while.
(It was a five movie night.)
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