I thought my boyfriend had planned the perfect romantic evening, dinner, surprises, maybe even something big. Instead, I ended up starving, confused, and getting yelled at over a taco in a parking lot. It wasn’t the night I expected… but somehow, it turned into the story we’ll be telling for the rest of our lives.
I’m 30.
My boyfriend (now husband), 31, and I have been together for a little over three years. He’s the kind of guy who can fix your sink, make a killer breakfast burrito, and get emotional during “Finding Nemo.”
Nick is sweet, goofy, and the kind of romantic who hides post-it notes inside your lunch.
So when he told me last week, “Dress nice but comfy — I’ve got the perfect dinner planned,” I was ready for something special. Maybe a rooftop date.
Maybe one of those restaurants where the portions are small and the bill gives you vertigo.
I did not expect what happened next.
So here’s what went down.
We get in the car and drive out of the city. I’m talking 45 minutes, past the turnoff for literally every restaurant I like. I ask where we’re going, and he just grins and says, “Trust me.”
That felt like red flag number one to me.
Eventually, we pull up to a scenic trail near a lake.
Beautiful, yes. Romantic, sure. But it’s also 5:00 p.m., and I haven’t eaten since noon.
I stare at the path.
“Babe, you said dinner. This is… cardio.”
He laughs, nervously.
“We’re just taking a short walk to the perfect spot first. Then the real surprise.”
I try to be cool. I really do.
I love the man. But after close to twenty minutes of walking uphill with nothing in my stomach except gum and anxiety, I’m one misstep away from passing out or chewing on moss.
I stop and say, “I love you, but I need food before I turn feral. Can we eat first and come back?”
He looks stressed.
Like genuinely panicked. “No, we can’t. The timing— It has to be now.”
“What has to be now?” I ask.
“Photosynthesis?”
He exhales, clearly frustrated, and eventually gives in. “Fine. Let’s eat first.”
We head back to the car in silence.
I’m feeling a little guilty, but also… feed me.
Then this man, this man I love, pulls into Taco Bell.
I blink. “So the perfect dinner was Doritos Locos Tacos?”
“No,” he says, shifting in his seat. “That was later.
I had a reservation. But you were starving and I panicked.”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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