The date

Ever get so consumed by your roles that forget the rest?

Under all of the practicality, the eye cream, and hair smoothers, the dental floss and concealer, I'm still a girl that wants to be dated. I still want someone to look at me with a little wonder in his eyes, wondering if he'll kiss me. I still want someone to reach for my hand, to tell me I look great, to say I smell good. I still want someone to remind the waiter of the water I'm waiting for without me asking him to do it.

It's so few and far between that these dates happen, yet when they do, they change me. Make me into a better housekeeper, better helper, better mom, a more patient person, more kind. I have more tolerance for my husband's faults after he's taken me on a good date. I feel giddy the next time the next time he reaches for my hand.

In this rapid trip toward aging and middle age, these dates reverse the clock for me. They make me feel 17, again. They make me feel young and vibrant and happy. If only the men in our lives knew how easy it would be to recreate this; if only they believed it was so simple.

A little noticing, a little hand holding, a little eye contact and laughter at something we say would surely do wonders. Let's hope a guy reads this and takes notes. We all know the dividends it would pay....