Despite the grimy bowling balls, stanky shoes (you just know Lysol can't get everything up in that toe area) and super unflattering fluorescent lighting, one of my most romantic dates with my husband was at a bowling alley.
There's just something so refreshing and simple about going out in tennies and jeans, ordering drinks from a bar 30-years past its prime, and competing for "better bowler" bragging rights. Our evening was pure fun and super affordable. We didn't have to fight for a bar stool, or wade through an ultra-trendy bizarre cocktail menu. We also didn't experience any of that who's who vibe you often get at upscale bars and restaurants in LA. The people using the lanes next to us could have been stock brokers or truck drivers for all we knew. They cheered for our strikes and offered sympathy for our gutter balls.
So next Tuesday night, consider skipping the overpriced menus, crowded restaurants, and pressure to whisper sweet nothings over lobster tail. Just grab your thickest socks and your competitive spirit, and chow down on some beers and hot dogs. Cupid will definitely approve.