every so often, when something confuses the hell out of me, i feel the need to do a guy-consult. someone else with high testosterone just needs to tell me if i’m interpreting things correctly and all.
periodically during said consultations, the topic of ‘who gets dinner’ comes up. we all tacitly agree on a social ruleset about who’s picking up the tab…generally, whoever did the asking out is gonna grab for that bill first, and yeah, generally that’s the guy. but most guys, according to my ever-so-scientific pollings, appreciate it when a chick makes at least a token attempt to offer to pay, be it an outright verbal offer or just a simple grab for her handbag. ideally, this token offer is at least convincing, not just an “i really expect you to pay for this, but i feel i have to bother to be polite.”
now, this is the new century and all, and i’m an employed adult and all, so no, i don’t expect him to pick up the tab every time we go out. hell, i don’t *expect* to get paid for at any point. yes, it’s a very nice treat to be taken out, and here’s a shoutout to my gentleman friends in college that taught me to accept such things gracefully. but i am in fact going to make that attempt, and it’s not going to be a half-hearted token offer, i really do assume that i’m picking up my share of a night out. you know what i’ve discovered though? i apparently need that token effort myself. i need him to pick up that little black vinyl folder and start making moves like he’s got it so that i can counter with my offer. splitting up the bill simultaneously, sans this little dance of negotiations, like i do when out with friends, makes it all feel, well, like i’m out with a buddy. not so datelike. and i’ve got to tell you nice people, it officially annoys the shit out of me.