There’s something about Friday nights that I simply love.
One word: comfort.
While there are some days when I shun my singleness and wish I knew what it was like to go on a date or be in a relationship, Fridays are never those days. Ever. I love my job, but it’s actually a bit draining and leaves me exhausted–both emotionally and physically–by the end of the week. The last thing I want to do on a Friday night is go anywhere.
Except my bed.
Oddly enough, Friday nights are probably the ones with my earliest bedtimes. I don’t even care that I likely beat some toddlers to bed on those days–in fact, I might be kind of proud of that.
I’m usually in my PJs before the sun even sets. (There I go bragging again.)
If I ever do steal some fella’s heart, I’m not sure if my Friday nights will change, but I can’t help but imagine that they will. From my outside observations, Friday and Saturday nights seem to be popular date nights. But for now, however, I have no obligatory feelings to meet any understood expectations. Except to sleep more.
Sometimes when I hear people talking with one another about their weekend plans, I think about Friday nights. I think about the SportsCenter Not Top 10; I think about the comfort of my couch with some froyo in my hands; I think about feeling the weight of stress from the entire week being lifted off of my shoulders; I think about cheesy movies on ABC Family; I think about how I miss “The Friday Night Lineup”; I think about not waking up the next morning before 4 a.m.; I think about hugging my stuffed koala, Tie, as closely as possible while much of the world around me is just getting a possible late night started; I think about rest and rejuvenation.
And my heart smiles.