While you and the children were away visiting your father for the weekend, I followed my own advice and took myself out on a date. I had dinner on Saturday evening at one of our favorite restaurants. Guess which one?
If you’re wondering what I wore (and I know you are), don’t worry. I looked fantastic in my dark denim jeans with the back pockets that snap and make things look higher and tighter than they really are. You know the ones I’m talking about. If not, I’ll show you later. You would’ve been thrilled to see me in my red velvet heels. I did my best runway model imitation, minus the long stride. I mean I tried, but I had to step very carefully to avoid slipping and falling. I’ve grown used to walking arm-in-arm with you and the secure feeling of knowing you won’t let me fall.
Heads turned when I entered the restaurant alone and asked to be seated. See, I’ve still got it! Anyway, I took my seat and looked over the menu even though I already knew exactly what I wanted. I ordered a glass of the malbec I enjoy so much, but just five ounces this time, not eight, which I usually have when we’re together.
I received the best service, too. It seemed like every time I looked up, there was a male server asking if I needed anything or bringing me whatever I’d requested. There were four servers in all. I counted! All the attention was enough to make any woman feel special. The pasta was tasty. The atmosphere was comfortable. I was the perfect date for myself. Everything was quite lovely, really, but I realized something. When I take myself out on a date, I don’t need to go to any of our favorite places. Even though I enjoyed my own company, I was reminded of all our times there. There I was trying to focus on me, but after 45 minutes or so, I began to wish you were there. It was only natural, right? I had to laugh at myself.
The next time I take myself out on a date, I’ll find a new place. Oh, don’t go getting jealous. The more I nurture myself, the better I’ll be for you.