Despite the weather, yesterday was a nice day. We slept in, took the dog for a long walk, shopped for my elliptical (yay!) and went out for dinner.

Over a shared appetizer of steamed dumplings it dawned on me that I could not remember the last time we went on a date. We always used to go on dates. In college we had a “date night” once a week, no matter what.

I guess sometime in the past few years, between work and life, we settled into a routine. A comfortable, happy routine…but a routine none the less.

It’s funny how relationships change. I saved some emails Michael wrote me the first few months we were dating. I had just finished my freshman year and had returned to NY for the summer. The time apart was agony. The torture of new, young love was enough to make me realize I never wanted to be apart again. (Incidentally, that was the only summer I ever went back home.)

They are the sweetest letters and I really cherish them. Everything was new, we were so in love. We were both high on the new relationship buzz and the curiosity and excitement of the unknown.

Every six months or so I read those letters as a reminder of where we came from, what our relationship was built upon. They always make me smile.

And although the infatuation has melted away, what remains is something strong and wonderful. We’re no longer planning our next date, but our future, our family, our lives. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

But what had a tendency to get lost in the fray is that time we used to sit aside just for each other. Moving in together gave us the advantage of seeing each other every day. Together time became synonymous with dinner, tv and bed. And while that is all well and good, I don’t think either of us realized how much we missed that special time.

Until last night.

So as we dug into our entrees it was decided. We will bring back date night.

And I can’t wait.