my silent date

we had the rare opportunity of going out on a date to the big "city" this past weekend. when i say, "city" i mean the town of mesquite about a 30 minute drive away.  ty had an errand to run so we made a night of it. we puttered our way through town looking at all the restaurants trying to decide on one. we don't eat out much and wanted to make it last.

"what do you want to eat?" ty asked me.

"i don't know. mexican? but you don't like mexican." i replied.

"what about chinese?"- he asked again (he already had mentioned chinese about four times)

"ok, chinese it is." i acquiesced.

as we pulled into the dark parking lot and walked past the rather large fountain out front i sighed a little. this was the same chinese restaurant that we went to when we dated in high school. does that seem weird? it didn't to me. we walked in shivering off the cold (unfortunately, 40* feels cold to me now) and the waiter ushered us to a small booth.

the same small booth we ate at our first time there. it took us a few minutes to notice this. and we laughed about that date and how i spilled an entire glass of water down my shirt. and as we sat down and discussed the menu and what to order, what not to order, what is too spicy, what is good (we haven't eaten there for years)  i just kind of smiled inside a little. here we were, 12 years later. 7 years of marriage. 3 moves. 3 kids. 2 college degrees. different goals. different wants and needs. different people. a lot of things had changed.

and a lot of things have not.  after we order ty sits there silently, looking around, smiling at me, looking at his hands. the identical mannerisms he's had on every date we've ever had. most of the conversation always begins with, or carried along solely, by me. i ask questions. he answers short replies. i talk about hopes and dreams and he listens. we talk about the kids and we laugh together. then i get tired of talking and we sit there. quiet, still, just us.

the young me would look on as a third party and find something terribly wrong with this picture. they are just sitting there, not talking! i always visioned myself with a funny, talkative, gregarious man. and here i see myself sitting with the strong, silent type... literally. many times i've wondered what's wrong with me that ty doesn't like talking. do i talk to much? do i ask the wrong questions? don't get me wrong, he talks. about sports, and hobbies, and many things. but thoughts and feelings and emotions are far, far, far off of his radar.  and always has been.

but after 12 years he still sneaks smiles at me in public and laughs at my jokes and hugs me when he gets home. he's not very good at surprising me with presents or dates or witty conversations or holding my hand. but he pats me on the head when he passes by or i do something silly. which is often.  and he'll shoo me into the bedroom to rest for awhile away from the monkeys when he senses that i'm weary. and in the early hours of the morning i wake up to him caressing my face.

and when he does those small, little things, i know that he's talking to me.

and it makes all those silent dates worth it.