A History Of Bad Dates

Usually, it's chicks who have major shit to kick regarding rotten domestic partner "dates", but in our case, I'm the roach in the fondue pot of romance. I can't even blame the kids because I was screwing things up long before there were any kids to blame! It's not like I want to ruin the infinitesimal portions of "us time" that we get, but it is invariably my bad, so to speak. We always celebrate our wedding anniversary on the day after Thanksgiving because I am terrible with dates and we got married the day after Thanksgiving, so why not hook the two events up if that will help me to remember that we actually did get married at some point in time. This year I thought I had it all goof-proofed by accepting a very generous offer extended by a couple of friends of ours to take the kiddies on an evening adventure so Husband and I could go out to dinner and a movie, something we haven't been able to do for a very long time since we got on the Baby Train. I researched movie times and planned everything out carefully and discussed it all with Husband so he could greenlight everything. On Thanksgiving Day, I broke from my usual behavior and ate a ton of food, so much that I put myself into a Food Coma for the rest of the day and woke up Friday with a major Food Hangover in the form of the worst tummyache in my personal history. I couldn't imagine riding in a moving vehicle, let alone eating dinner anywhere but the Antacids section of a Walgreens. So our "romantic anniversary" consisted of Husband periodically holding back my hair and fetching me cups of peppermint tea in between watching his Battlestar Galactica miniseries in the living room while I writhed around on the bed within hitting distance of the porcelain goddess. Sadly, this is just the latest in a series of disastrous non-outings produced by something stupid I did/thought/felt/didn't do. Early in our marriage, before the Baby Train pulled out of the station, there were several incidents that cemented my propensity to mess things up without meaning to. During the heat of the summer, we went out to lunch at the local Chinese restaurant and then went to the movie theater next door and waited in line in 100-degree heat to buy tickets. When we went from the 100-degree outside into the 70-degree theater lobby, everything started to fade away and get far and wee and I passed out cold in the theater doorway. Some light patting from Husband brought me around enough to realize that I was going to be very very sick in the immediate future, so I dragged myself to the nearest trash can and yarked my guts out while astounded children and parents stepped over my prone form and the theater manager wrung his hands and offered to call for an ambulance. Husband assured him that I did not need an ambulance and carried my semi-conscious body out to the car and drove me home while I cried out of absolute mortification. The concensus was that too much MSG, caffeine and heat had caused the event. A few weeks later, the same exact thing happened, minus the yarking but including passing out in the theater hallway, taking an innocent bystander down with me as I clawed my polyester blouse open (I would have gotten the bra off too if Husband hadn't stopped my impromptu strip show). That time I insisted on staying for the movie because it seemed smarter to stay in the freezing-cold theater instead of lamming it back out into the heat. I don't remember anything about the movie, but I do remember that Diet Coke never tasted so good. After that, I always wore loose, cotton clothing and carried water with me when we went to the movies in the summertime, so it wasn't until I was eight months' pregnant with our son that another movie theater incident ocurred. I was expecting something to happen because it was July in Texas so it was hotter than the hinges of Hades, but I really wanted to see this particular movie(Artificial Intelligence) so I shoved all my fears down and soldiered on. By this time that theater manager knew what he was dealing with and provided me with a stool to park my pregnant butt on while Husband procured tickets and soda, but even that stool didn't stop me from graying out just a bit and I kept that trash can handy just in case. We made it into the theater without any actual passing out or throwing up (I'm sure the theater manager was relieved) but after the movie was over, some wag behind me bellowed "That was the dumbest movie I've ever seen!" I was awash in tears (eight months pregnant, emotional storyline and Haley Joel Osment at the bottom of the ocean for a thousand years--you bet I was crying!) and so I turned around and started hollering at the guy until I was gently dragged away by my ever-patient Husband. After our son was born, it was difficult to get out to the movies at all, and a lot of times I was just too tired to go but reluctant to say anything until the last minute, which is when my Husband adpoted the attitude not to anticipate or get excited about any outings until we were in the car and well on our way because there was a good chance that I'd flake out. That was a good attitude to take, because all through my second pregnancy I had serious morning sickness and was not about to venture into a situation where there was an 80% chance of public vomiting. Now that our daughter is two, the concept of getting out to the movies together is actually feasible, IF I can get someone to babysit and IF one or both kids isn't incubating some ghastly illness and IF I'm not exhausted from running around holding a potty chair under our daughter's small rear end and IF a whole bunch of chaos factors decide to give me a break. I really thought I had it knocked this time. I hadn't considered that I might eat myself stupid!