My friend invited me to a fancy steakhouse downtown. It was the kind of place with low lights, heavy forks and knives, and menus with no prices because it’s very expensive.
Before we went, I told her clearly that I couldn’t spend $200 on dinner and would only order something small. She laughed and said it was fine.
I trusted her.
As soon as we sat down, I could tell the night wasn’t going to go the way she said it would. She ordered like it was a special event—one of the biggest steaks, cooked medium-rare, plus three side dishes. She also ordered a glass of wine without checking the price.
When it was my turn, I ordered only a small steak salad. No drink, no sides, and I even said no to dessert.
I tried to enjoy the meal, but I felt uneasy the whole time. I’ve known her long enough to see the pattern—she likes to spend a lot and let someone else deal with the cost.
When the waiter asked if we wanted the bill, she smiled and said, “Let’s just split it.”
It felt heavy to hear that.
I didn’t argue. I just nodded and said, “Okay.”
A few minutes later, she went to the restroom. As soon as she was gone, I quietly called the waiter over.
“I need a favor,” I said. “Can you add three main dishes to go—the ribeye, the filet, and the salmon?”
The waiter looked surprised. “All to go?”
“Yes,” I said. “Please add them to this table’s bill.”
He nodded and walked away without asking anything else.
When she came back, the bill arrived right after.
It was $280.
She stared at it, looking confused. “Wow… that’s a lot more than I thought,” she said, tapping the receipt.
I looked at the total, then at everything she had ordered, and then back at her.
“Yeah,” I said calmly. “That’s how it adds up.”
She gave a nervous laugh and said, “I guess food is really more expensive now.”
I paid my half right away, grabbed my bag, and stood up.
As I walked out, the waiter handed me a bag with three hot takeout boxes inside.
In the end, I was going to enjoy that dinner—my way.