Taiwan Myth #43: Only cars and scooters park badly

March 29, 2006

Tuesdays are grand. My wife and I get to go on a date, unencumbered by the two ~~appendages~~ kids. We have an “arrangement” with our neighbors. This is only our second date since our second child was born, over a year ago. We feel awkward. We stare at each other, wondering if we should say anything about it. This nauseating, dizzing feeling of freedom is a bit much. The screaming, whining, loving, adoring, needy, frustration that makes up a large part of our dynamic is suddenly gone. What will anchor us? What will protect us from the uncertainty of…everything else?
We drink strong coffee hopefully. It doesn’t have its desired effect, but it does not taste bad. What we really want to do is sleep, but neither of us has the balls to say it. Romance at this stage, is a precarious thing.
We settle for a Thai massage, across from Chubby’s.
“Please, not too much yoga,” my wife nervously pleads before getting Thai massaged. In the end, certain kinks have been worked out and we are pleased with the results. It seems only appropriate to settle on a Thai meal, just around the corner.
Burping lemongrass and chili, we make our way down _____ rd., lazily stopping at the street vendor stalls. There is luxury in not worrying about breaking (read: paying) merchandise, at not having to yell some format of “NO!” She finally settles on a pair of shoes. For one of our children, of course. You just can’t escape it. And you know, it’s ok. It is for me, anyway.
And just so you don’t go around telling everybody I misled you, I leave you with this: