'Where Do You Want to Go?’

Going out to eat ought to be a simple thing. But nothing that seems that simple is ever easy. I remember when my ex-boyfriend and I used to periodically go out to dinner. We’d get in the car and he’d say, “Where do you want to go eat?,” and I’d say, “I don’t know, where do you want to go eat?”

“You decide,” he’d say.

“Ok, Italian,” I’d say.

“You know I don’t like Italian,” he’d say.

“Ok, then how about Thai food?”

“No, I don’t want Thai,” he’d say.

“Then, why did you ask me where I wanted to go eat if you keep saying no?”

“I was just trying to be polite,”

“Well, that’s not very polite,” I’d say.

“Ok, then, where do you want to go,” he’d say.

“I already told you.”

“Well try again.”

“All right, how about Chinese?” I’d offer, even though I didn’t really like Chinese.

“No, I got sick there last time we went, remember?” he’d say.

“Ok, where do you want to go?” I’d say, exasperated.

“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?” he’d say.

“It’s not fair of you to keep asking me where I want to go if you keep saying no and not making any suggestions of your own,” I’d say.

“How about the steak house?” he’d say.

I’d look at him suspiciously. “If you wanted to have steak all along, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

“Because I know you don’t like steak. I was just trying to give you a chance to say where you want to eat.”

“But what good does that do if we’re not actually going to eat where I want to eat?” I’d say.

“Look, we can just forget all about it and go home and eat spaghetti,” he’d say.

I hated his spaghetti. “No, let’s go out,” I’d say.

“Where do you want to go?” he’d say.

And the conversation would continue like that until one of us caved in and begrudgingly agreed to go to a place he/she didn’t really want to go to and would then sit in the booth gazing moodily at the menu, not finding a single, solitary thing on it that seemed appetizing. Then we’d sit there like one of those awful couples staring silently into space having nothing to say to each other.

Looking back now, I’d have to say our difference in restaurant preferences  as well as many other things  probably signaled the ultimate demise of our relationship. But then I’d have to ask myself: How was it we were able to get so far in the relationship without either of us realizing we had so little in common? Maybe it was because he was so eager to please me and I was so eager to seem easy to please that we both started out agreeing to things we would never normally agree to if it wasn’t for the fact that we were trying to be so agreeable.

In the end, that just goes to show, that the best policy is probably not to try to seem so agreeable in the beginning of a relationship and not to agree to let your partner fake agreeableness either. But that means you have to be willing to agree to disagree, which unfortunately takes a certain amount of agreement.

(Readers can e-mail Lisa at lisal@thegrid.net.)