Apparently, My Love Really Doesn't Cost a Thing.

I hadn't been on a date with my husband in a really long time.

Oh, sure, we'd been together: Home Depot runs and grocery store pick-ups. Three weeks ago we even went to a football game together, but we went, we won, we came home. I wanted a date with him. The kind that comes with a restaurant with a menu - not a menu board. The kind that comes with holding hands in the car. The kind that comes with telling the sitter, "I don't know when we'll be home, if they get tired, put them to bed."

Saturday I got my wish.

Oh, sure. Dates when you are young and childless look much different than when you are old and have children.

Our dates used to be on Friday nights.
Now we get tired too early. So we decided to go out on a Saturday afternoon.

Our dates used to be to little cafes where we would order wine and listen to Jazz.
Who are we kidding? We split fajitas, had two unsweet teas and it tasted maaaaahvelous!

Our dates used to be to plays at the theatre. And sometimes, they still are.
But sometimes a well-reviewed movie at a matinee price are just what the doctor ordered.

And so Saturday we kissed our kids goodbye, kissed my parents good-luck, and strolled to the car. He opened the door for me (as he still does even after 16 years) and we took off for Mexican food. We sat at a table and talked about life and work and jobs and friends and church and kids and shoes and everything else under the sun for almost two hours. And I loved ever single second of it. Then we went to the movies to see The Social Network (which we loved) and the day was looking good.

But the movie didn't start for 25 minutes and we had a little time to kill.

And I just happen to have 50 cents in my purse.

And that is when I fell in love with him all over again.

Because for the next 15 or 20 minutes 50 cents proved to be all we needed to be back in college again. For those few minutes we didn't have kids to worry about, bills to pay, cars that needed repair or teeth that needed cleaning. Prescriptions didn't have to be filled. Letters didn't have to be mailed. All that was needed was for me to beat him at Ms. Pac-Man.

And I did. Royally.

But that isn't the point. For those few minutes we just laughed and laughed. I screamed when he died, he pushed me out of the way when I died. We talked trash and rooted for each other all at the same time. And if I had to forgo the whole movie going experience I would have just to have played another round with him. But I didn't have two more quarters.

So we left the Ms. Pac-Man game, hand-in-hand and strolled in to our movie. And I remembered why it is that I adore that man. And it only took two quarters to figure it out.