chick dates
I finally managed to catch a thoroughly enjoyable show after a series of flops. At first, I didn’t have much expectation for “I Love You, Man”, the not-so-romantic comedy by Paul Rudd and Jason Segel (better known as Marshall Eriksen on HIMYM). Ok, I actually thought it was a gay show, but since IMDB rated it 7.8, we decided to give it a shot. Which turned out to be pretty awesome. I haven’t laughed out loud like that at a movie in a long time. IMDB rocks.
So I’ve gotta talk about the concept of a man date. It sounds so wrong on so many levels unless you’re into that kinda thing, then it’s probably great. My take is this. Men don’t have BFFs and they don’t go on alone dates, not for drinks or movies or hunting. It’s too awkward. Anything more than 2 is fine, and it becomes a man group-date. They can do their masculine thing and play poker and grunt at each other.
But 2 dudes hanging out all the time, man, that’s just so gay. What do they do? Like braid each other’s (armpit) hair?
Which is why I’m thankful the husband doesn’t do man dates. From time to time he needs his guy time and goes out to hang with the guys (notice the plural form) to play soccer or computer games. I’m cool with that. But I’d be seriously uncomfortable if he was out with like his BFF all the time doing god-knows-what till all hours of the night.
Now chick dates are different though. Girls can hang out 1-on-1 or in a group and its perfectly fine. We get to go shopping, massages, manicures or just sit down and talk about all the above stuff. Well actually, we talk about guys and contraceptives and sexploits, but that’s what BFFs do. And I love my chick dates cos it’s nice to do girly stuff and giggle from time to time.
Although all that has been out the window since I became a stay-home mom. Nobody wants to go on a chick date with a pregnant woman lugging around a stroller and a restless toddler. It’s an ordeal getting a space at a nice cafe and 5 minutes into the conversation, the kid is screaming and I’m picking food out from my friend’s hair. Don’t ask.
So now it’s all down to mom dates. Only other moms with equally crazy kids can put up with the madness and mayhem. I’ve long since kissed my lattés goodbye and the only places available are McDonalds or each other’s homes so the kids can cause all the destruction they want without the disapproving stares and tsk-tsks from single chicks.
