So, Friday night my folks were kind enough to watch Hell's Bells while The Hubs and I went out alone. Of course, they would have done this very nice gesture if I said, "We really need a night out alone" but it helped that our night out alone included going to watch their grandson, my nephew in his second school play. I talked my husband into asking his boss if he could be home by 5. Kinda sad that he has to request that but in the day and age of "I'm lucky to even have a job" most people would work until midnight if their boss asked them to.
The Hubs made reservations at Kona Grill because he knows how much I like their filet and wok tossed veggies. Honestly, I didn't care what I ate so long as I knew I could use both hands because one wasn't busy rocking a stroller or shaking a carseat to calm a crying baby. Hell's Bells has gone out with us many times but it was time for mommy and daddy time, no matter how good I got at rocking the carseat with my elbow as I ate a cheeseburger.
My folks came just in time for me to change out of a spit up stained Fish Taco T-shirt and into something cleaner. They were probably in the house 3 minutes before The Hubs and I flew out the door while I yelled back, "See ya, suckers!" It wasn't until we were halfway out of the complex when I realized what terrible parents we were. Neither of us said goodbye to the kid. I contemplated going back but we were too giddy with excitement that we didn't want to cause a possible upset should she realize we were leaving her.
We got to Kona early which was a good thing because after hearing there was half price apps in the bar area, we decided to sit there forgetting the service was going to be a lot slower because more time waiting meant more time drinking which is their plan but not mine. I wanted a wine, a margarita, a martini, even a beer but I don't drink so after two sips The Hubs would be leading me to the car like a stumbling drunk. I stuck with my diet coke. It didn't take either one of us long to say that it felt like something was missing. That it was completely weird getting out of the car and not having to pull out the carseat and unfold the stroller. Soon, a familiar face from work walked through the door. Since I had not seen her since I left for maternity leave, she wanted to see pictures of the baby and I was more than happy to oblige.
Now, I have a problem. I cannot ever accept a compliment for myself but if someone comments how cute Hell's Bells is, all I can say is, "I know!" The Hubs informed me the correct response should be "thank you." Whoops.
Soon, we were left alone again and I started commenting on the people around me. Of course, being home for 10 weeks, I was totally over stimulated by looking at so many people, I didn't know who or what to comment on first. It didn't take me long to hone into three guys huddled around talking to each other ignoring two girls standing next to them talking to each other.
"That is the problem with your gender," I said. "Three guys standing there ignoring two girls."
"The problem with my gender?" The Hubs said. "Why aren't the girls talking to them?"
This turned into a whole debate about how meeting people in Fairfield County sucks. I lived in this county my whole life so I can't really comment but I have enough single friends to know that this is probably true.
"It's easier to meet people in other places," The Hubs said. "When we would go to Cancun, we would always meet people."
Yes, but it was usually a drunken spring break in Cancun thus making it easier to meet people because your standards are lower and you aren't really looking for much else than a vacation fling.
"It's not even this hard to meet people in New York City." He added.
Can you tell The Hubs is a wee bit more passionate about this topic than me? This is for two reason. 1.) I was never a bar person. I hated bars. Still do. 2.) I was never a single guy so I didn't feel all that pressure his gender feels. I mean, sure, I was a single girl but out on the town, the pressure is more on the single guys. I just kind of sit back and laugh because all the bar hopping his friends did. All the drinks they bought for girls. All the hopes of getting some numbers on a Friday/Saturday night? All the rejection they withstood. All the games of wingman? And where did almost all of them end up meeting their wives/girlfriends including him? Yup, Match.com. Go figure. I wanted to mention this point but probably thought it might be a sore spot so I stole the last piece of sushi roll while he wasn't looking.
I was reminded of something a friend said to me recently. A newcomer to Stamford, she said she was surprised a native like me was willing to meet new people because it has been her experience that FFC folk are unwilling to meet new people. That we seem to have our people and we stick with them. I went through my mental phonebook and it turns out that I must prey on people new to the area because I have about as many newcomers as I do natives. I don't know why but I like extolling the virtues of Stamford on newcomers. Not even so much what a great city it is, but all the great food we have and how nice it is to be so close to NYC without paying to live there and still not have to take mass transit. But, honestly, FFC folk are, for the most part, snobby and keep to themselves. We tend to not be friendly to outsiders because we have this mentality hence why a bunch of single guys from Monroe with decent jobs, relatively handsome, overall nice and snappy dressers couldn't meet a girl in a bar here no matter how many drinks they paid for.
Dinner was over and the debate had ended on a positive note, as all debates should end, with my husband telling me how lucky he was to have met me. And I responded to that the same way i respond to compliments about my kid, "I know." On the way out, my familiar face from work was sitting outside with other familiar faces so again, I was forced (read: willingly whipped it out) to pull out my phone to share pictures of Hell's Bells.
"Oh my god, she is so cute."
Obviously, I learned nothing from my husband's prior lecture on my inability to be humble when it comes to the kid.
We had time to kill before the play so we decided to stop home and drop off the leftovers and say proper goodbyes to Hell's Bells. I was sorry the second I walked through the door. My parents looked like they had been through the wringer. She was calm now but we evidently just missed a screaming and crying jag that outlasted my parents' nerves. "Grrrrrreaaaat," I thought. "They are never going to want to do this again!" My father still had hearts in his eyes for his granddaughter, but my mom looked shellshocked. Then again, I have found that most men can tune out a baby's wailing but women just can't do it. But, they were both willing to stay while we went to the play. We kissed Hell's Bells goodbye and thanked my folks profusely before running out the door again.
I can tell now, it is going to be a looooooong time before another Date Night.