Once a month The Hubster and I have a date night. It’s a scheduled thing because he is all about schedules and that’s good, because I’m not the best planner. I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal. I like to think we balance each other out, but let’s be honest…only one of us needs balancing and you’ll be able to figure out which one by the end of this post.
Anyway, we alternate responsibility for our dates each month. Last month I planned our date. We went to an Indian restaurant for dinner, then to a couples’ Thai Massage training class at our awesome, local yoga studio, Ebb & Flow. The class was a little out of The Hubster’s comfort zone, but we enjoyed discovering that my massage technique is rather painful and that he is a pro at everything he does. Apparently, I massage like a vulture tearing away at flesh, but you know, some people might like that. Not him. But maybe someone. In short, he probably got the raw end of that date, but no worries. He got to plan this month’s date.
This month The Hubster decided to make our date a surprise. Actually, he almost always tries to keep his dates a surprise. It makes it fun…usually. For example, in January he took me to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner, we watched a Christmas parade, and then he’d arranged to borrow our nephew’s car so he could teach me how to drive a stick-shift—something I’d been wanting to learn for a while. I didn’t do so great at it, but he was very patient with me. It was very sweet. So, this month I was excited about my surprise date right up until a few hours before when he told me to wear yoga pants. At first, I thought, oh good. I can wear the same thing I wear every day. It’s a casual date. But then my mind started considering the possibilities. Maybe he wanted me to wear yoga pants because we would actually be doing something active! Challenging! Strenuous! SWEAT PRODUCING! I asked him for more information, but he wouldn’t give it.
You see, I’m not the most athletic person. Not right now anyway. There have been times in my life when I would’ve tried just about anything. We used to go rock climbing. We used to play co-ed softball. We even jogged together…once. I used to exercise regularly, but lately I’ve gotten a little…squishy. So when I started to imagine what our evening might hold, I got a little nervous. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can be that way sometimes. I changed clothes 3 times, including my underwear. My insecurity was manifesting itself with every wardrobe change. My outfits got baggier and baggier, until I settled on sweats that covered all evidence of my femininity. The part of my attire that I had been committed to from the start were my new tennis shoes, super cute turquoise trainers fresh out of the box. They were a style choice, of course, not a functional choice. The sweet Hubster told me I looked great.
As we drove to our mystery date location, I started to get even more uncomfortable because I had a sneaking suspicion that we were headed to the very place that I had thought about taking him to on multiple occasions. Each time I had chickened out because this place is a combination of 3 things that currently terrify me. 1. Challenging physical exertion. 2. Possible injury or death. 3. An audience to witness my humiliating demise.
As we entered the parking lot my fears were confirmed. Slingshot Entertainment, home to a ninja obstacle course. The story behind this is that we love that show, American Ninja Warrior. I’ve told The Hubster many times that he could be one of those guys. He’s got a naturally slim, athletic build. He’s had washboard abs and vein popping arms for as long as I’ve known him, regardless of his activity level. It’s both hot and annoying. He could be a great “ninja” if he practiced a little. This is why I had thought about taking him to this place for a date night, but then I’d remember that I’d have to go too.
So, there we were. We signed our lives away on their mandatory waiver. We were surrounded by teenagers, children, and other couples. The women were wearing their tight yoga pants and cute tank tops, but their hair and makeup was all done up, proof they weren’t actually planning on exerting themselves. The Hubster could tell I was nervous and tried using his expert Thai Massage hands on my shoulders to loosen me up. We navigate through throngs of people to get to the ninja obstacles. There are rock climbing holds that can only be grasped by your fingertips. There is a 16 foot warped wall that you can run up (or fall down). There is a salmon ladder (look it up, it’s impossible). There is a swinging balance beam. And there are many other ways by which you can break yourself. My anxiety levels are high as we watch countless people attempt and fail at each obstacle. The Hubster is giddy with anticipation. He can’t wait to try some things out.
I don’t want to ruin the evening for him. I don’t want to be a pansy. I want to have fun, but I have little confidence in my physical strength. Finally, after evaluating all of the options I settle on something. It appears to be the most innocuous of all the obstacles. All you have to do is hop from one steeply inverted plane to another, zigzagging until you reach a platform at the end. The Hubster makes it look so simple and there are cushions in between the platforms, so it seems harmless and simple. Two woman in cute yoga pants come up behind me as I evaluate my approach and ask, “This doesn’t look too hard, does it?” I say, “I don’t know. I haven’t tried it yet, but I’ll probably sprain my ankle or something.”
The Hubster is waiting for me at the other end of the obstacle, smiling reassuringly. The girls chatter behind me, waiting for their turn. So the pressure is on, and I leap from one platform to the next, to the next, thinking this isn’t so hard. Then it happens. I catch an edge in my stiff, cute, new shoes. My ankle rolls, I feel a pop, and I go down. The Hubster helps me up and I try to hold back my tears as the girls behind me giggle. My ankle hurt, but not as much as my ego. My first attempt of the evening and I went down like a cowardly fighter knocked down by a punching bag. I just wish I had video to share with you so you could see how pathetic it was.
But things got better after that because I got to spend the rest of my night watching my super sexy husband run up walls, traverse swinging doors, throw himself up the salmon ladder, and swing like Tarzan through the air. And I had an excuse not to feel guilty about sitting idly by. Despite my insecurities, it turned out to be a great date. I was even motivated to get in better shape so that we could go back and I could try again, but of course that would have to wait until after my ankle healed, so I picked pizza for dinner. And then leftover pizza for lunch the next day, and the day after that. And I skipped the gym today, so perhaps the ninja course will just stay The Hubster’s thing.
What date should I pick next month?
