Amid the reputed intellectual and cognitive benefits that people list as reasons for involving your children in their school's marching band, no one mentions the weird, existential week that happens when your youngest child goes on a trip to Florida and leaves you alone -- completely alone -- with your spouse, offering a stark and sobering glimpse of your life's later chapters.
Pro Tip: In the weeks leading up to this, you ought to have at least one very serious discussion to determine the likelihood of you two killing each other.
Our experience was encouragingly positive. Once we got past the first oddly silent evening, we found that the conversations opened up a little, became a little less utilitarian. We discussed the things we were looking forward to in our new, smaller lives together. There was a very quick agreement that we're going to need more dogs.
But, because the things that I imagine might occupy all of those new empty spaces tend to be particular to my interests alone (unless my wife decides that she'd really enjoy helping me attempt to build a copy of a Les Paul in some as of yet cluttered corner of the basement) I came up with a joint activity that might fit several of our emotional needs.
I think that we should subscribe to two seemingly incompatible dating websites, like JDate.com and FarmersOnly.com. And we should just start randomly selecting people from one and using their information to create a profile in the other.
Eventually, someone will probably connect, necessitating that we have to cut and paste their communication between the two platforms. And, yeah, that part is a little gross. This whole thing is actually pretty immoral. But, I still have a couple of years to work out my justification...and for our nation's sense of privacy to erode.
But the background noise of this creepy little manipulation is pretty romantic. And when Marsha and Earl finally meet and fall in love over dinner and drinks at the Wexford Applebee's, it will be against all odds and due only to the tireless effort of two over the hill empty-nesters, toasting the blossoming romance from across the restaurant... or possibly from the parking lot, through a pair of matching binoculars -- identical and possibly monogrammed binoculars.
Pro Tip: In the weeks leading up to this, you ought to have at least one very serious discussion to determine the likelihood of you two killing each other.
Our experience was encouragingly positive. Once we got past the first oddly silent evening, we found that the conversations opened up a little, became a little less utilitarian. We discussed the things we were looking forward to in our new, smaller lives together. There was a very quick agreement that we're going to need more dogs.
But, because the things that I imagine might occupy all of those new empty spaces tend to be particular to my interests alone (unless my wife decides that she'd really enjoy helping me attempt to build a copy of a Les Paul in some as of yet cluttered corner of the basement) I came up with a joint activity that might fit several of our emotional needs.
I think that we should subscribe to two seemingly incompatible dating websites, like JDate.com and FarmersOnly.com. And we should just start randomly selecting people from one and using their information to create a profile in the other.
Eventually, someone will probably connect, necessitating that we have to cut and paste their communication between the two platforms. And, yeah, that part is a little gross. This whole thing is actually pretty immoral. But, I still have a couple of years to work out my justification...and for our nation's sense of privacy to erode.
But the background noise of this creepy little manipulation is pretty romantic. And when Marsha and Earl finally meet and fall in love over dinner and drinks at the Wexford Applebee's, it will be against all odds and due only to the tireless effort of two over the hill empty-nesters, toasting the blossoming romance from across the restaurant... or possibly from the parking lot, through a pair of matching binoculars -- identical and possibly monogrammed binoculars.
I have not, as of this posting, pitched this idea to my wife.
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