A Thursday Kind of Love

It started with a text.

Translation: Let's go on a date here

It was Thursday. Nothing particularly romantic about it. My mind was already halfway through tomorrow’s to-do list, mentally checking what leftovers we could heat up for dinner.

Translation: I'm excited to see you.

But there he was—my husband—casually suggesting a date like we were still new at this. Like he still wanted to pick me up and take me somewhere, even if it was just the restaurant in town that smells like lemongrass and chilli the moment you walk in.

And that’s how we ended up at a Thai place on a random Thursday night.

There were candles on every table, gold-trimmed pictures of temples on the walls, and menus made of gloriously indestructible cardboard. We ordered Pad Thai and green curry, because we always do. That’s our unspoken Thai restaurant ritual.

We talked about nothing particularly important—how the basil tasted extra fresh, how most of the customers were older folks (maybe because they’re the ones who can afford to eat out on a weeknight), how good it felt just to be out. Just out. With each other. With real food someone else made—and no dishes waiting at home.

Somewhere between bills and laundry piles, we promised to keep dating each other. To find tiny windows of time, even on Thursdays—especially on Thursdays—to pause and just be together.

It wasn’t a grand gesture. It didn’t need to be.

Just a small, sweet reminder that love can look like shared noodles, second helpings of jasmine rice, and a partner who still wants to hold your hand across a sticky table.

Sometimes, the best kind of romance smells like coconut milk and garlic.

And tastes even better.