Going Dutch
Call me old-fashioned, but I secretly enjoyed it when a guy paid for a date. It was a way to make me feel special, like I wasn’t just one of his pals. A return to chivalry, I thought. I was torn because I was afraid that enjoying the free meal wouldn’t help women break through the glass ceiling, that maybe it was a subjugating force. Then again, it made me feel special, and I gauged a guy’s interest in me by how readily he paid for something.
On a few doomed occasions, I paid my share of the tab to make it perfectly clear to my unfortunate date that I did not feel a strong connection. Sometimes, I’d rush to get to the movie counter first so I could say breathlessly, “One, please.? Or I would quickly snatch the bill from the waiter and say sweetly, “Let’s see what my share is…? It was admittedly mean, perhaps, but it sent a clear message.
JG and I were friends for a year before we dated, so we went Dutch all the time at diners or pizza places. When we were finally dating, he pushed for the transition toward him paying. “I don’t mind,? I’d protest, “and we’re both poor, so it doesn’t make sense.? He insisted, so I gave in.
I tried to find the cheapest things on the menu to minimize any financial pain, but JG saw through that one quickly. “Eat what you want,? he’d urge me. “I know that you really want the steak, so don’t just get a salad.? It was true. I loved a good steak and I still do. It’s not that I had a great yearning to be a cheap date, but I didn’t want to be the demanding girlfriend who insisted on champagne when her boyfriend had the budget for a soda.
What was I clinging to? If I was all Miss Independent, should I be in a relationship where we were learning to lean on each other? Shouldn’t I just take my slim wallet and pay for my own fries? I had to face the fact that my so-called independence was sheer stubbornness and determination not to be beholden to anyone for something I could afford myself, which wasn’t even the point. JG wanted to give this to me. It wasn’t some manipulative system.
Eventually, I learned to relax and order what I wanted. JG doesn’t take me out if we can’t handle the bill, so I don’t need to worry about it. As far as that glass ceiling goes, it’s my money, too. It just so happens that it comes out of JG’s wallet.
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March 30th, 2007 at 1:07 pm
I’m totally feeling you on this one. On one hand I like paying my way because I like that feeling of self-sufficiency and independence…but if I were to go on a date with a new guy and he didn’t offer to pay, I would seriously think he was either cheap or wasn’t into me.
March 30th, 2007 at 3:16 pm
Zandria - Amen! That is what I’m saying! Of course, now, when I choose something with hardly a glance at the price, JG grumbles good-naturedly about me being high maintenance. Men!