Let's talk romance for a moment. Manhattan Mama clearly feels deprived in this department and this is one of the most bewildering aspects of life with her. My latest attempt to remedy this is to make a reservation at A Voce--some interpretation of Tuscan cuisine--that the NYT recently gave three very optimistic stars. I've been a few times on my employers expense, so I know it's nice but I also know what it's going to cost. I'm thinking lucky if we get out of there for less than $150. Tack on another $50 for the babysitter. Then drinks, cabs, etc. Better not to do the math.
It's not that MM wouldn't be perfectly happy with a kabab or a trip to the hipster taqueria, maybe some flowers from the corner stand. None of that would register in her mind as this mythic thing know as a DATE, and thus would win me no more points on her end than remembering to take down the recycling.
Making a DATE means you're thinking of her, which means you're engaged with her, which means she will feel warmly toward you--or so I've been led to believe. Don't make a DATE and, well, sucks to be me.
Nothing about my pre-marriage or pre-kid life prepared me for this. I can understand why this would be important to pre-marriage dating women who want to know, even on a subliminal level, can this guy support me? After child, I can only presume this fullfills some kind of longing of MM to be that single chick again, childless and looking for some man candy.