This entry is a dated one.
Dated being the operative word.
It was early-April.
And it was one of those Friday nights where J and I didn't want to go out.
So he came over to my tiny rented apartment for dinner where I whipped up an elevated lazy dinner of sardines pasta -- fortified with extra ketchup, loads of chopped onions, spring onions, parsley, a squeeze of lime, and spaghetti tossed and twirled classily onto our huge Crate and Barrel dinner plates.
As I sipped my Pinot Grigio, I sighed blissfully that date night with my partner of more than 20 years can be literally anywhere -- even if we were eating canned and processed food -- and still be enjoyable.
I felt truly blessed.
In our early years, when both of us were in our twenties and having started our first jobs, our go to dating places were, among other cheaper locations, Pasta Mania.
Most times, we would eat at food courts along Orchard Road, many of them defunct.
Our favourite place was the one at Scotts Road. I would always order Roti Jala with rendang, and he, braised beef noodles (dry).
Those were the simple and cheap dating places in our early years, which I enjoyed then, and now too.
Sometimes, we lament that our old cheap haunts are no longer around.
In our thirties, when our bank accounts were fuller, J and I moved on to restaurants or cafes where we didn't need to vacate our seats for others the moment we scooped up our last morsel. We even allowed ourselves the occasional splurge at super high-end restaurants.
Now that we're in our forties, I see us as having the best of both worlds.
It's not -- and never -- beneath us to eat at hawker centres. In fact, we do that still. But we also revel in the fact that we have a choice to live it up or play it down whenever we wanted.
Because at the end of the day, it's not where we go or what we eat that matters.
Right this moment, J is chewing his food slowly and enjoying this very low-cost, high-presentation dinner.
J, who sensed I was staring at him eating, looked up from his pasta.
He didn't say anything to me.
He didn't need to. Over the years, we have honed our verbal and non-verbal communication skills.
I winked at him.
A slow smile formed on J's face, revealing that trademark impish grin that, till today, makes my heart beat a bit faster.
I set my fork down and playfully dribbled one eyebrow suggesting that dessert was to be served not on my tiny dining table but elsewhere in my tiny rented apartment.
J giggled, revealing his crooked upper canine which turns me on to no end.
As we cuddled under my blanket that night, J asked if I wanted to take a short break. An impromptu vacay.
I lifted my head from between his neck and collarbone.
"Are you serious?"
J smiled and nodded.
But... I am in the midst of an intensive project and can't leave the country for prolonged periods of time, I thought to myself.
Before I could say anything, J said: "A short break and getaway within Singapore. This way, you don't have to worry about being away from work for too long. And it gives you both that peace of mind and mental break."
I looked at J and asked out loud: "What did I do to deserve you?"
"Not that cheap dinner you made for sure," he quipped, and flashed me that boyish smile again.
And just like that, under the most unplanned but most romantic sequence of events that unfolded from dinner to dessert, J and I decided, a romantic staycation it was to be.
Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
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