Just Friends for a Reason...

It had been a while since I had met up with my friend Bob. We’re both big vampire movie buffs. Movies like Underworld and Blade are pretty special to us, and so with the new Underworld: Evolution movie out, we scheduled time to meet up for dinner and a movie.

We met up at his place. I wanted to see the house he had bought, and so I got the grand tour, and then he drove us to dinner. Dinner started out a bit odd. He had asked me what I was going to order, and I told him—thinking he was just curious. Macaroni Grill is one of my favorite Italian eateries in the city, and I almost always get the same thing, and I eagerly anticipate each visit.

Well, when the waitress came to take our orders, he piped up and said, “She’ll have the pasta milano.” I almost choked on my bread. I really am fine about doing my own ordering, after all this wasn’t a date. OK, maybe this is a cultural thing. Bob is from Taiwan, and this was the first time we’d had dinner on our own together. Maybe men in Taiwan normally order for the women at the table? I wasn't sure, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

And then the waitress said looking right at me, “And did you want a salad with that?”

Bob said, “No. No salad today.” That did it. I reached for my water glass and chugged some water down before I starting spitting and sputtering. OK, he was right, I didn’t want salad, but I hadn’t told him that. What if I had wanted salad? I almost contradicted him and ordered a salad out of spite. But I didn’t. I maintained my composure and politely smiled and decided not to make a big deal of it.

The rest of dinner was fine. We talked about his church, his lady friend, his job, and I caught him up on what was going on in my life, too. Things were back to normal, and we were chit-chatting it up like we always have. I had nearly forgotten the whole speaking for me incident.

Then our waitress brought the bill, and of course, she had put it all on one check. And why wouldn’t she have! It made sense. He ordered for me, he answered for me, and so naturally she thought he was paying for me, too. But no, Bob handed the check back to her and asked her to split the check up. That was fine by me. I had fully expected to pay for my own meal, but the whole thing kind of made me chuckle. If I were a different woman, I might have been very confused. I would have been interpreting very mixed signals. The man jumps in and orders for me without asking me if that’s all right, and then he wants to split the check.

Now, I love Bob dearly. He’s a good friend, and I wouldn’t change him for the world, but there are several reasons that we’ve never been more than friends...