Robb and I have enjoyed a series of fun dates recently to our new favorite coffee shop. We are not opposed to the Starbucks variety, but since they don't appear to be struggling with the downturn of the financial climate, we sometimes choose to buy our two cups of coffee from an independent shop who is especially thankful we came their way.
Plus, this one has live entertainment on Saturday nights.
(Insert here: Many thanks to my parents who recognize the value of date nights and encourage us to let our children play at their house so we can invest in the lifelong partnership that is ours.)
So, our pattern as of late is to go to dinner at a favorite spot (we are somewhat creatures of habit and predictable routine, so although the restaurant choice changes, my menu item doesn't really... Robb would say if you name the restaurant, he'll tell you what his wife will order. I say, why risk changing what I love? But I digress.), and then we head to our coffee shop, settle in with our mochas, two decks of cards, and an evening of each other. (With some ridiculous competition sprinkled here and there. Of which I am usually slightly embarassed about after the fact.)
This past weekend, the so-so-great coffee environment was further enhanced by a live jazz trio... my new favorite experience. I was nearly entranced by the atmosphere. I just loved it.
I leaned over to Robb and said, "Oh, this place. I love it. I could stay here for hours. It makes me want to sit in a chair and read, read, read, and then write for just as long. I love it."
He smiled. He paused. He absorbed the serenity of my description. Then he leaned close to me to whisper his response. I was ready for something so charming and endearing, to show me how much he loves me and everything I love.
Instead, he whispered, "And I would rather have my fingernails ripped off than to have to read or write right now."
And he leaned back in his chair, quite pleased with his comparison. Such is his disdain for all things in print. I laughed out loud. I did not see that one coming at all.
But you know what? Fair enough. I shall never ask him to bring a book or a journal on our date nights. And he shall never ask me to rip off my fingernails... because I honestly cannot think of anything I would hate more than that.
We are quite a pair. At least we both like coffee. And jazz.