I thought I was done with dating when I married my husband Jamie. No more awkward getting-to-know-you conversations, no more exhausting/witty banter, no more wondering if they’ll call.
We’re still dating. Only we’re dating other couples. Will they like us? Do we all have chemistry? Are the women just friends and the men have nothing to say to each other? Do we have similar tastes in TV shows, food, child rearing? Do they use swear words? (Um, we sometimes do) Let’s be honest. Once you finally get a weekend night available (dodging work obligations, family obligations and various Detroit sporting events), and drop ten bucks an hour on a sitter, flat-iron your hair (just me?) – the date better be good. Unlike our single selves, we can’t just meet people out for dollar pitchers of beer on a Wednesday night (oh the days of $1 pitchers) to see how it goes. We’re no longer a hook up couple with endless time. Wait. That makes us sound like we’re swingers. We’re not.
We’re looking for a relationship. And finding another couple that matches interests, kids and humor can be like finding that one in a million soul mate all over again. But we don’t just open up to anyone – we’ve been burned before. Showed a little leg, made the first move – but they just weren’t that into us. (cue flashback)
It was a wedding. We were at table 23, the catch-all table of random friends, relatives and others you don’t know where to put, so you throw the extras at one table. We sat down next to a couple who seemed to be our same age. Ripe with a gin and tonic, we started talking. You know, the usual how-do-you-know-the-couple, to what-do-you-do-for-a-living questions. Then we progressed to talking about other weddings, fun trips, hilarious movies. It was like they answered our Pina Colada song singles ad. The other woman and I even took a trip to the bathroom together, the ultimate in female friend bonding.
At the end of the night, I impulsively (because I’m usually not that kind of girl) thrust my business card with personal number into the other woman’s hand.
“Call us!” I said brightly. “We had so much fun with you guys! It would be great to hang out again!”
“That would be fun!” she gushed. With that they turned, and walked out.
For days, Jamie and I were hopeful that we would get a second date. I mean, we were funny! We were witty! We danced the Electric Slide together!
Nothing. Scarred from putting ourselves out there, we vowed never to pursue another couple so brazenly. I know, I know – nothing ventured, nothing gained. So yes, we did heal. We got back out there.
We have ended up making great couples friends in our neighborhood and from school. We have a lot of fun, but it has taken a slow, dating dance to make sure it’s going to last. Back in the dating days, looking for Mr./Mrs. Right was about good looks, a steady job and someone who didn’t embarrass himself on the dance floor. (or two out of three) Now we’re into good wine, swapping kid stories, a wild Kid Rock concert once every 3 years and getting home by midnight. (Ok, 11:30 p.m.)
So, if you like Pina Coladas… and getting caught in the rain…. like Detroit sports… and watch The Barefoot Contessa…