After years of unsuccessful date nights, the Carpenter and I are trying a new thing: date mornings. It might not sound romantic, but in my marriage, bacon is an aphrodisiac. Why not use that to my advantage?
I should also mention that romance for us isn’t about seduction so much as it is about completing household chores. I’ve said it before and I stand firm on this: if you want to satisfy a woman’s needs, finish a renovation project before you start a new one. Yes, it really is that easy.
It goes both ways too. While I lament the unfinished bathroom, the Carpenter would say the same about my habits for creating chaos in every room I enter. Simple things like cutting the grass, taking the trash to the dump and organizing closets are the things that turn the Carpenter and I on. It’s mutually gratifying and we’re not ashamed to admit it.
The best solution is to head out early on a Saturday or Sunday (the only two days in the week where we can actually accomplish our house-hold tasks) for an early morning fuel-up. And we don’t require anything fancy on the menu; just coffee, toast, a couple of strips of bacon and two eggs, over easy, just like us. We are a cheap date. Feed the belly, nurture the relationship and clog an artery. That’s love.
We’ve only recently discovered this morning date thing. It came as a result of yet another Friday night date flop. It wasn’t a total flop, but when you have tickets for an event in Toronto on a Friday night and you’ve both been up since 5am, worked all day, and you have to be home for junior’s sports practice the next morning, it’s not exactly a wild night out. It’s more like a marathon to see who can stay conscious long enough to drive home and a coin toss as to who gets morning practice duty.
Up early the next day, before we picked the kids up from Grandma’s, I suggested a date over breakfast. Given the fact that I am not now, nor have I ever been a morning person, this was a big step for me. It showed the Carpenter I am committed to keeping our spark alive (or to getting the house painted this year. You decide).
Marriage takes work, especially at this point in our lives, when the Carpenter and I feel more like roommates than a couple. Our schedule revolves around a calendar posted on the fridge. Sometimes we pass in the driveway, each taking one of the kids somewhere. Conversations happen at the kitchen sink and are always interrupted. That’s not a complaint; it’s just a fact.
A cup of coffee and a hot breakfast can do wonders to break down the barriers of a hectic week. While the Carpenter clears his plate, I always leave one piece of bacon on mine and shyly hand it over to him. He always pretends to be surprised that I’d share. It’s foreplay, but it works.
In the diner, we catch up on our individual lives. We reconnect. We create an impossible plan for the weekend and come Sunday night, we accept what didn’t get done. That’s life. Making the time for what matters is important. Accepting that love is about evolving together is much easier when there is bacon involved. And coffee. Cheers to that.