Date Day

The calendar had been cleared and the day had finally arrived. Mr Practical was taking me on an all-day date extravaganza. Notions of a leisurely drive up the coast into the misty hinterland, strolling hand-in-hand, followed by a long lunch in a French-inspired bistro were ambushed the moment we drove into the car park of a curtains and blinds shop.

Not Happy Jan

Inside it didn’t go well. I was in a huff because I could see my romantic agenda being hijacked right before my eyes. Yes, we needed two new blinds but not on Date Day! Considering no one had measured the windows and neither of us was prepared to play a guessing game, we departed from the store without the blinds and no clue what would happen next.

A Turning Point

Feeling the lava starting to inch its way up my neck and being only moments away from it spewing out my mouth in a burst of hefty accusations, I had to quickly decide; let the mountain blow or cork it!

Tip: If you let it blow there’s going to be a big mess to clean up. Anything said during an ‘eruption’ is irrelevant because it’s spoken “in the heat of the moment” and therefore becomes invalid. Save your good stuff for when you’re calm, then it has impact.

I took a slow, l-o-o-o-n-g, deep breath, tweaked my attitude and said without even a hint of sarcasm, “Well... why don’t we drive to Southbank and have lunch?” Specific and to the point – men appreciate that. See how nice I was? Don’t be mislead; my emotions were having convulsions and every blood vessel in my face felt like it was about to haemorrhage and replicate a road map of the entire inner city but I’ve learnt there is a price to pay for peace. Matters can be addressed when everyone is calm and blood pressure is back to normal. Did I mention it was now raining?

A Woman’s Hair

Now, rain is a non-issue for me. I’m not against it, I don’t complain when it happens – even for more than a week because I understand it’s necessary... so long as I have an umbrella. For the record, I do not suit the ‘wet look’. I have naturally wavy hair that does not kink in cute little ringlets around my face when wet. Mine dangles like a damp dog’s tail. So I had to tweak my attitude again because ‘people’ had not returned the umbrellas to the car after the last time they used them. This wasn’t the easiest date I’d been on and if it had been a first date – there may not have been a second!

Later, as I waited for Mr P to return on foot after parking the car, I had to admit there was something very Parisienne about the scene. Mist gently sweeping across the city, clinking coffee cups from the nearby cafe and the heavy droplets of rain piercing the wide-berth of the winding Brisbane River nearby, captured my imagination and swept me away.

When I caught sight of Mr P walking across the overhead walkway, the grey pavement stones glistening wet, my heart tap-danced. It reminded me of that famous James Dean photo, dim surroundings, his coat collar pulled up to ward off the definite chill in the air - except Mr P was wearing a Reebok jacket and jeans and doesn’t smoke, but apart from that - identical.

Without another thought, I abandoned my own agenda and what I thought the day should’ve been and met him at the top of the stairs. I felt so Audrey Hepburn. If only I had a red umbrella. Somehow that would’ve completed the picture but our red golf umbrella was somewhere at home.

It was almost lunchtime and because it was unusually chilly out, we both agreed to retreat to a snug little restaurant and warm up over hot drinks and plates laden with steaming comfort food. Getting to the restaurants, however, entailed a long walk in the rain with no umbrella. Without questions or annoyance about my hair, Mr P simply suggested we take the road under the overpass to stay out of the rain. So thoughtful yet ever so practical.

Mood Lighting

As we walked, he took my hand. The amber hue of the overhead lights gave the slightest suggestion of candlelight (you have to concentrate and use your imagination) and helped to block out the pungent fumes of passing buses. Romance and danger.

We strolled through the restaurant precinct and perused enticing menus before deciding on a short drive to a little Greek restaurant. Before long we were snuggling under a flaming, pedestal gas heater, pouring over offerings of eggplant dip, haloumi with lemon, lamb souvlaki and piping hot slow cooked lamb casserole, generously dusted with paprika. It took us on a culinary journey.

With tight tummies, we took another stroll to the bakery and picked up some baklava and then a quick stop at the Continental Deli for fresh Portuguese tarts, (I’m not afraid to mix foods from different cultures – I like to encourage all flavours to get along!) and then it was time to take a leisurely drive home.

The day could’ve been a disaster. If I’d carried the disappointment of things not going how I imagined, it would’ve been a day wasted. What was intended to bring us together to help us reconnect in the midst of our busy lives, would’ve served in driving us apart, even if only momentarily. Something so precious is never worth risking over something so trivial.

Besides, if I’d really made it an issue I would’ve missed the gems scattered along wet pavements on rainy days like my Audrey Hepburn moment, when Mr P took my hand in his in the candlelight (yes, okay it was a bus tunnel but it’s not where you are but who you’re with that really counts) and tasted the heavenly delights of Greece over a leisurely long lunch. Incidentally, we did all the things I imagined - they were just wrapped differently.

How often do we pin all our hopes and expectations on other people or worse, one other person. High maintenance relationships die a slow and painful death. Do yourself a favour; let the other person off the hook from time to time. Don’t keep a score card of let downs and disappointments and relinquish impossible standards. Then, suddenly one wind-swept, rainy day or starry night or on the bluest of blue sky days, you’ll get your Audrey Hepburn moment, having learned the grace of letting go and really living life.

©2010 Philippa Vette