Well now, so it seems, I have a date this evening, with Rudy. We’re not dressing up, nor do we have reservations anywhere fancy-shmancy. Nope, just us, me and him. Here. At home. Watching a movie. Eating pizza.

Here’s the thing.

Rudy and I don’t date. Not really. We both get caught up in everyday life and tend to take our relationship for granted. The fact that we are here. In this house. Together. Every day. All the time. And presumably always will be. Has become second nature that sometimes we forget the importance of relating as a couple because we are so accustomed to simply living as two people sharing a life and a home together. As roommates might.

So, when Rudy sauntered into the room and asked me if I’d like to spend the evening with him I couldn’t resist the feeling of traveling back in time, when we were young and held the world in our hands. Without constraints or obstacles. During a time when a date was the most important thing we could do. To draw us closer. To bound us as one. So that we could fall in love. And feel happy.