PLAYIN' HOOKY

 

By Buffy Lawson
Couples often claim “life” as being the reason they no longer have time to stay in love. “Life”, meaning kids, careers, in-laws, housework, paying bills, changing tires, grocery shopping, and mowing lawns. Clearly, all of these duties are important fabrics of our person, but if we are interested in nurturing a loving, fun relationship… I am a firm believer in—work hard and—play hooky. Obviously, this isn’t something a person can do on a regular basis, or that person will abruptly be fired and fairly and squarely living with the in-laws. NOT a good move for an established adult couple. 
Playing hooky re-introduces the playful, slightly naughty, secretive aspect of a relationship that naturally occurs in the early stages of love. You remember back when things were perfect. Romantic, exciting, mysterious; when you, well, PLAYED HOOKY; cherishing the chance to spend a day devoted only to your relationship. It is not only fantastic for the couple, but it also provides both individuals with much needed rest and relaxation. No expectations, well—maybe some. But they are the fun kind. 
It is a situation that can be equally fulfilling if planned, or spur of the moment. But the primary goal and ultimate point is to focus completely on each other. Sleeping in late, taking time to cuddle, eating breakfast in bed, lighting candles in the afternoon and playing soothing music. However, it is a bad idea to leave the house if your luck is anything like mine. Because you would probably find yourself having a nice relaxing, romantic lunch sitting at a table directly beside… your boss. 
This is not error proof, however. I recall the only time Mister Man and I played hooky. It started off fantastic! I shut all of the shades in the house and was simply thrilled for us to have a day together. He called in sick, which NEVER happens, and I felt like queen of the world. I convinced him that because this was such a rarity, not to feel guilty. We slept in until 10am! Unheard of for either of us. I got up and decided to spoil him with my infamous omelet. 
I then heard a series of sneezes that came from the bedroom, which were somehow so perfectly in synch, they mirrored a drum loop. I poked my head in – ”you okay baby?” “yeah, the ceiling fan must have conjured some dust.” I walked over and kissed him on his forehead, THRILLED to have my day with my sweet love. A moment later he began coughing uncontrollably; I thought he might be choking on my omelet. He then turned red as a beet and was as hot as a Nevada lizard on an August afternoon. 
Mister Man was sick as a Tennessee Dog. ON OUR HOOKY DAY. 
Really?
Well, I took good care of him making smoothies, bringing cold rags for his burning head; spoon-feeding him chicken noodle soup and demanding he drink lots of water. I learned things about him that day that make old couples adorable. Nothing naughty happened, for sure; but something beautiful did. 
His boss called to check on him. I was able to say, “Yup. He’s sicker than a Tennessee Dog.” It took everything in my bones to NOT say… “But honey, he’ll be playin’ hooky next Tuesday”. 


Posted on 2014-08-11 by
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