It was my first instinct to go to the grocery store and cook something great for supper tonight, but after we spent the day at our new house trimming hedges and installing the landscape lights we were starving. We knew it’d take a long time to get the groceries and cook so instead, Mitter said, “Let’s have a date night!”
It seems like every night is date night for us with late night movies in our stretchy pants or midnight walks down the avenues, but he meant a proper date where we put on real clothes and go to dinner.
He put on a red and blue plaid button down and a pair of cordurouys my parents bought him last Christmas. He wore the boots from his birthday last year. He is so, terribly, devastatingly handsome.
He opened my car door at the street. He wore the cologne he’s been wearing since long before I met him and it will always remind me of Christmas time in 2004. When I met the love of my life. We drove to the restaurant by way of 7th Street so we could pass our house, as we have been doing for 2 months now no matter where we’re going.
He told me, “Your hair is getting so long! It’s so pretty.”
I said, “I’m sorry it’s in a ponytail on date night. It didn’t curl right.”
He said, “Your ponytail is new to me. I think you look beautiful.”
And I knew that if my head were shaved or dyed blue he would tell me the same and mean it.
We had dinner at Mi Casita. We shared what we ordered. We talked about things with great interest, like everything was so important. We found that we agreed on it all. He held my hand across the table while we ate. He told me he loved me.
We left the booth, and he rose from the table slowly, like he always does. He stood up extra tall and straight as he walked away, like he always does. He paid for our food and we held hands walking to the car. He kissed me before he let me get in.
I just snapped a photo of him walking past the office door. We’re about to watch a movie. He doesn’t know why I took his picture. But I do.
I love being married to Ben. Every single day I’m thankful for it.