My husband and I both have our birthdays in the same week. So this year we decided to go out. Originally, I made the plans just for me, but then when he saw he’d have to be out of town for work he wanted to come along so he did.
When we were younger and first met, that’s how we woo’d each other. A friend of ours introduced us and then we wound up going out and dancing a lot and getting drunk and having a good time for all hours of the night. We used to party like it was going out of style. This was of course before the children came along. I’ll never forget one night trying to get him to go to bed and he insisted on passing out on the couch with a sandwich in his hand.
Last night was like a glimpse of those times. Sure we go out here and there, but never dancing and living it up like that. It was a wonderfully good time. We were still bumping and grinding on the dance floor, and still slow dancing when he took me to the dance floor. He’s adorable. I adore him.
Thought for sure I’d get a visit from the man whore at the birthday party, especially since I had the play of him forgetting my birthday. Alas, that didn’t happen. I knew it wouldn’t, but I always hold a small shred of hope. I was hoping he and my husband would finally meet, but oh well.
The night was full of great friends, great food, great drinks, and great times. I wound up with some really cute picture of my husband and I. Love it. Love him.