The Standoff

I don't think that it's news to anyone that there is a test that happens when you're a on a first date and the waiter drops the bill on your table. The girl reaches into her pocketbook to pretend like she's going to pay and the guy tells her not to worry about it. The girl fails the test if she doesn't even bother to reach and the guy fails the test if he agrees to take her money. (I can hear my male readers' voices rising up in protest. Guys, don't shoot the messenger. I don't write the rules.)

I had a date a few years ago. I don't remember his name. I couldn't tell you what he looked like. I have no clue what he did for a living. I don't even know what we talked about. Truthfully, I don't remember anything about that night except that it was at Stephanie's on Newbury Street and that the conversation was incredibly awkward. Now, I'm not the one who suggested this restaurant. I tend to leave that to the guy because 1.) I like to get a feel for what kind of restaurants he's into and 2.) if I pick an expensive restaurant, I feel like I'll come off as high maintenance. So, I generally will suggest a "neighborhood" to have dinner in (Back Bay, Downtown Crossing, Seaport District, etc.) and leave it to my date to pick the specific place.When he chose Stephanie's, I remember thinking, "Wow, for a first date, this guy is going all out."

We had dinner which as I said, I have no memory of whatsoever, except that Annie Sullivan probably had an easier time getting Helen Keller to engage in verbal conversation than I had with this guy. Then, the bill came. (*cue High Noon whistle) There it was, standing up, in between the two of us...just waiting for someone to grab it. As we weren't really talking to each other, we just sat there in awkward silence, glancing at the bill, then at each other. Unsure of what to do, I tried "the reach." I took my wallet out of my purse, and he just sat there, staring at me.

It slowly dawned on me that this guy expected ME to take care of the bill. His hands remained on his lap as I performed the reach. I lay my wallet on the table. Still, he didn't make a move.

I can tell you this: I wasn't footing the entire bill! First of all, he asked me out. Secondly, I wasn't the one who chose the pricey restaurant. So, my wallet stayed on the table. And we sat there staring at each other. For a total of forty-five minutes. The waiter kept breezing by the table, trying not to make it obvious that he was looking to see if the bill was exactly where he left it, and making it painfully obvious how annoyed he was when he saw that it was. My date and I made small talk, both of us refusing to acknowledge that it was there.

Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer! I didn't want to spend another 45 minutes making awkward conversation, so I grabbed the bill. I expected him to at least give me the courtesy of the reach. He didn't. So, I looked at the bill, looked back at him, and said, "That'll be 65 dollars."