I love a good date night, don't you?
Dinner and drinks. Walks on the beach. Picnics in the park.
I love all the hand holding and finger braiding and flirtatious footsie under the table. I love the little butterfly flutters that I still get in my stomach whenever Tim kisses me on the cheek and whispers little sweets in my ear. He's so handsome with his milky, soft skin, his deep, brown eyes and his scruffy beard, graying in some places probably because of me.
March was a busy month for us. I threw my back out. It was Easter. We house sat for my mother for three, whole weeks. I knew Tim had been working so hard and even picked up a second gig on the weekends to try and save up some extra cash for all the things I want in life like a new car and throw rug for the dining room and also a home espresso machine. I was also putting in long hours at work and on some freelance projects. We were both busy hosting out-of-town guests nearly every weekend.
Our schedules left almost no time for us to spend alone, together and towards the end of the month, Tim and I were beyond overdue for a night out.
So last week I told Tim to clear his schedule for Thursday night so that I could take him on a date.
For a while I'd had this idea to turn the trunk of my car into a big, fluffy bed so that we could drive up into the mountains to watch the sunset and feast on a dinner of pizza and beer. There's a special spot I know, a place to pull-off the road on West Camino Cielo near Lizard's Mouth Rock, where the views are dramatic and sweeping and where people seldom stop to enjoy.
Tim had been to Lizard's Mouth several times before and I know that he really loves it up there. The whipping winds that blow fresh mountain air through the sage brush and clumps of cactus. The lounging lizards and the quiet from no crowds. How romantic I thought it would be, to wrap up in blankets and wrap up in each other, up in the hills, under the stars. I had wanted to plan an evening for Tim that he would really enjoy.
First, I folded down the back seats of my Honda Pilot so that they lay flat and level with the trunk. Then, I layered the "bed" with lots and lots and lots of warm blankets and throw pillows. The fort I built for us in my car was soft and downy and private and romantic.
On the night of our date, I ordered us a pizza with all our favorite toppings and extra cheese from our favorite Pizza Guru. I filled a cooler with Modern Times sour beers and Caesar salad with homemade dressing for us to share. I packed up some dried mandarins for snacking and a joint to smoke for dessert.
I told Tim to bundle up and we loaded into the car.
I drove us up, up, up Highway 154. At 6:30 pm the the light in Santa Barbara was dimming but glittering. Beams of gold, rays of red.
I turned left off the highway onto West Camino Cielo Road.
(This back country road is extremely windy and sometimes impossibly narrow. The blind corners and hairpin turns are a challenge to drive at twilight when the sun is shining directly in your eyes, so be careful please!)
At the planned turn-off, I backed the car to the edge of the mountain, so that the bed in the trunk faced the view.
On this night in Santa Barbara, from our spot in the hills, above a thick layer of clouds that covered the city below like a schmear of cream cheese, the colors of the sunset were fiery and full. Out in the distance, the mountain tips of the Channel Islands rose up hauntedly out of the hazy horizon.
Up in the Santa Ynez Moutnains there are countless opportunities to pull off the road and park in secret spots that offer killer views. Up in the hills, there were almost no other people, and Tim and I enjoyed the most spectacular panorama almost to ourselves. And as you know, I do like it better that way. Plus, there's not a lot of things I love more than Tim and pizza and sunsets and sour beer and joints.
We had such a great time up there together. It was maybe even one of our best date nights to date. I spooned in the "C" of Tim and we fooled around a little bit with no one to see. We watched the sun slip behind the mountains and paint the sky pastel before it grayed the day to night. We listened to cricket chirps and the last calls of little song birdies before they retired to their nests for the night.
What we needed was some quiet, unplugged and alone time with just each other to remember how good it feels to spend time together and just enjoy the view. Sometimes I think that Tim confuses my desire to be "spoiled," not with gifts or expensive dinners, but simply with attention and affection. I wanted to show Tim that a romantic date night doesn't have to cost a million dollars or come with gifts wrapped up in bows. That with a little creativity and a short drive, you can achieve a more romantic, memorable and special evening than all the money in the world could buy. I'd opt for a slice of pizza on the beach with Tim over a filet in a steak house any day.
When the night sky got to be dark and pregnant with clear constellations and the whole pizza was gone, and the beer, too, it was time for us to head back down the mountain. But, I did leave the blankets in the back of the car so that sometime soon, when we both have another night off together, we can easily pack up a dinner of carne asada burritos or Chinese take-out and head up into the hills for another date.
Or who knows. Maybe next time we'll skip dinner and just eat each other instead. I do love a good lay as much as I love a good date night, and I'm pretty sure Tim does, too.
Cheers, lovebirds.
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