Saturday night was date night. We decided it early on in our relationship. He’d asked me to be his girlfriend on a Friday, so eventually Saturday night was date night. No matter how busy, we decided we’d always make time for each other on Saturday night. No extravagant arrangements but simple dinners in the living room, watching a re-run of our favourite show.
Seventy-six weeks of never missing Saturday date nights. I knew babies younger than that. It is said that when things are done successively without fail, they become ritualistic, auspiciously marked and important. Saturday night date nights were our rituals, our thing, our time.
So you see, it was unfair for him to call up early Saturday morning and explain that something ‘important’ had come up. What could possibly be more important than Saturday night date? And you say it to me over a phone call while I prepared the meat for our biryani.
Rituals are sacred, they are not meant to be broken. They are above all and beyond all most important. So there was no way this behaviour was gonna be entertained. His physical body presence was important,his will? not so much. Breaking rituals had consequences. No, he will be present if not with a beating heart and pumping lungs then without. But he will be present.
We looked so beautiful together on our Saturday date night and he was gonna skip this? Ha, I seriously doubt that.