My Uncle Tito was so cheap that he dried out teabags and reused paper napkins. I haven’t thought of Uncle Tito in years and as my partner and I got ready to meet some out-of-town friends for dinner he was not remotely on my mind. Mainly I was annoyed that after almost 8 weeks of renovation, our kitchen was not yet complete; generally I would have cooked at home but circumstances forced us to go out. I was also annoyed at the restaurant our friends had chosen because I think it is wildly overrated and overpriced, but our friends are the kind of guys who like to live the high life so we agreed.
My partner and I are pretty basic diners. We’re certainly not adventurous diners, and you’ll never hear us debating whether to order the sea urchin or the jellyfish. Give us a salad, some bread and an entrée and we are happy. We’re the kind of guys who often choose restaurants mainly because we have a coupon that is about to expire and I will admit we have been known to enjoy a meal at the Olive Garden, which causes some of our friends to shudder.
As we drove to the restaurant to meet Bob and Rob my partner was sulky. “All they talk about is how great life is in LA,” he said, “and Rob tells us how much they pay for everything.” I sighed. “Bob asked me if I was ‘still’ driving the ‘same old’ car,” I said as I pulled my same old car into the parking space. “Why are we doing this?” my partner asked.
It’s mainly based on history: Bob was a good friend 20 years ago, but then I met my partner, who never liked him, and we drifted apart. Eventually Bob moved to California and then, several years ago, he met Rob, who neither of us really liked, and we drifted even further apart. As we entered the restaurant Bob and Rob were already seated and I saw that they each already had an empty martini glasses in front of them. We sat down and my partner ordered a glass of the house wine and I ordered my usual Diet Coke. Bob and Rob exchanged a disapproving look.
They each ordered another martini, and then another. “You’ve been together almost 20 years?” Rob marveled. “You must thrive on tedium.” My partner opened his mouth to respond but I jumped in: “Water seeks its own level,” I began darkly, “as the two of you must know,” but then the waiter arrived to take our orders.
I ordered chicken and a house salad. My partner ordered salmon and a house salad. Bob and Rob started with appetizers, followed by soup. Next came their salads, followed by the entrees. Bob ordered another martini. Rob ordered a bottle of wine. I asked for a refill on my Diet Coke. Our dinner consisted mainly of watching Bob and Rob eat as they regaled us with stories of their life. “Nobody does Palm Springs anymore,” said Rob dismissively, and a moment later Bob said, “Granite is the new Formica; it’s in every Days Inn.” They were on their second bottle of wine by this time.
After dinner Bob and Rob had dessert and cappuccino, and brandy. My partner ordered a decaf, mainly out of boredom, and I had another Diet Coke. When the check came Rob grabbed it immediately and I knew what was coming. “How about if we just split it evenly?” he said.
I was in a quandary. On one hand, the cost of what we ate was a fraction of the cost of what they had consumed, but on the other hand, I did not want to turn into cheap Uncle Tito. I glanced at my partner who looked like he was biting his tongue so hard it hurt. In the end Uncle Tito won. I took the check from Rob and handed it back to the waiter. “Would you mind if we had separate checks please?” I asked, risking the look of pure contempt that the waiter, sure enough, shot me as Rob and Bob stared, shocked into silence. “You know we’re remodeling our kitchen,” I said lightly. “We need to pay for that granite somehow.”