Some date nights are what you do because you love one another, and you love one another's company, and because you have the time to share it. They are the evenings carved out of busy schedules, prioritized over personal time, or housework - pursuits selfish or selfless that can eat your life if you let them. Some dates nights feel cut, measured, and portioned. Which is not to say that they're not great. But some date nights, nice as they are, just fill a few hours between days.

Some date nights, however, fill the space between two people - space that sometimes builds up inevitably, despite the best of intentions. Because misunderstanding and impatience and a host of other things conspire to worm their way into that space.

Some date nights are how the street looks after a storm, clean and glinting with light. They're laughing until you cry, logging a dozen new inside jokes, and remembering why relationships are worth the hard fucking work. They're (for instance) a subway ride to K-town for barbecue and not caring that you have to wait an hour for a table, and then another half an hour for the train back home. They're not caring because something has shifted and you're back in that awesome, easy place, and because this date night could last a week and probably not stop being fun. Some date nights are makeup sex with your clothes on.

And you don't understand it, not even close, but you're glad for it anyway.