Hey! Hey! She can pay!

Fair warning, y’all. If you happen to see me on the steps of the courthouse shouting protest slogans into a bullhorn, I can tell you who is to blame…

…The server at Pappadeux’s.

The Husband and I went on a short road trip to celebrate the fact that we had a free weekend. Plus we just wanted to get out of the house. And on the way home, we stopped for dinner at Pappadeux’s. The Husband loves seafood. I do not. Especially since I’m allergic to shrimp. So periodically we have to go to Pappadeux’s so he can get his seafood fix and I can not die while he gets his gumbo on.

Anyways, we were wrapping up dinner when The Husband decides he needs to Go To The Bathroom. As you might have guessed, his purpose in going to the bathroom was two fold:

• To relieve himself, but more importantly
• To signal to the wait staff that we were ready for the check.

Please tell me we’re not the only ones who use this tactic. Have you ever been in a restaurant, and it seems like things are taking too long, and someone says “I’m gonna go to the bathroom!” And then magically your food shows up. Or the check comes. Or a small herd of singing waiters shows up to deliver birthday dessert and make you wear a goofy hat while receiving said dessert, but since you were hiding out in the bathroom and the wait staff doesn’t want to have to do this twice, they drop your Flaming Birthday Surprise o’ Sugar on the table and run. And you are spared the awkwardness of wearing the goofy hat and having them sing some cheesy birthday song.

Anyone? Anyone? Okay, maybe it’s just us.

Anyhoo, so just like clockwork, he goes to the bathroom and here comes the server. But there was a twist in the story, my friends. Instead of bringing the check, she has a question.

“Is it going to be one check or two tonight?” she asks.

I am dumbfounded. This is the first time in my married life that I’ve been asked that question. Normally it’s assumed that we’re together and the server tosses the check at The Husband, and that’s that.

“One,” I say. Then the onslaught of questions in my head begins.

“Whoa,” I thought. “That’s never happened. They always just give us one check. Wait…they always give THE HUSBAND the one check. Not me. Should I be offended that I never get the check?”

I think some more. “Do I not look married enough? Is that what’s happening here? Do we give off a date vibe, and not a married vibe? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

The Husband is taking his sweet time in the bathroom, which means the Crazy Thought Train is picking up steam. “Well, as a feminist, I suppose I’m glad that she asked the question. It’s horribly sexist to just assume that the man will pay all the time. Furthermore, I’m a strong independent woman who don’t need no man. I mean, I’ve got a man, but I don’t need him. I mean, I like him and stuff. I want him there. Dear God, am I arguing with my own brain? I don’t need to explain to myself that I love my husband. Right? Shut up, me! Anyways, the point is that I’m a strong independent capable woman. And I could pay this check. I make my own money. Yeah, sure, we have a shared bank account, but there’s still a credit card WITH MY NAME ON IT that I could use to pay this bill. Heck, we COULD split the bill if we wanted to. And we could each pay with our respective cards and show that we’re independent. But then we could pay with our shared account, showing we’re united as a team.”

And then I start to get antsy. “Maybe I SHOULD do that next time. For the cause, I mean. Because women’s equality is important to me. Although…I could do a better job of showing that. Because here I am, saying I’m a feminist, but only in my own head. So who is that helping? I need to do more to show my support for women. I need to be LOUD. Maybe I could go to a rally or something. I don’t really know of any rallies coming up, but I’m sure I could find one. Or I could just start one. I’m sure if I positioned myself in a public place and started yelling, I could rally people to my cause. And the world would KNOW that I support…wait…how did I get started on this again? The check? What is this about? Oh right, EQUAL PAY FOR WOMEN. Or was it equal opportunities to pay the restaurant check? There was something about pay and women’s rights in there. I just need a bullhorn and then I can sort all this out.”

Thankfully before I could climb onto the table and start shouting, The Husband returned from the bathroom. And he paid the check with his credit card, and we left.

What is the moral of this story, you ask? Clearly, it’s a demonstration of how fast my thought process moves. And why it’s dangerous to leave me alone with a dinner check.