Just when you think romance has left the building…

The other night I managed to convince Husband to meet me out for dinner. He answered in his usual way:  Why don’t we you just pick up sushi?  And, then serve me and clean up afterward?

No.

I wanted to be served.

(Note to Husbands: Picking up ready-made food is not the same as a waitron taking one’s order and laying it in front of you with no threat of having to do dishes afterward. Unless you forget your wallet. And, then you’re gonna be elbow deep in sudsy water. Not us.)

So, Husband met me at the Indian restaurant across the street. I pulled in. Husband was already outside waiting. How romantic, I thought. He was waaaaiting for me.

He waved me over. Then, he pointed down to the empty parking space next to him. All that time he was waiting for me to pull in and park next to him.

Why? Because, have I mentioned that Husband LuuuUuuuUuuuvs his car? And, my parking next to him guarantees no one else will. Heaven forbid someone might not LuuuUuuuUuuuv his car and “ding” it.

So much for the I-was-pining-for-you-and-couldn’t-wait-til-you-got-here-and-how-could-I-let-you-enter-the-building-without-me-cuz-George Clooney-someone-might-think-you-were-single. Noooooo. His car might get bruised.

My answer to his finger pointing, as I pulled in next to him? Thanks, Husband. You just gave me my next blog post. By the way, we’re going out for dinner all week.

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