When my friend invited me to a fancy steakhouse, I hesitated.
I was honest with her.
I told her I couldn’t afford to drop $200 on one meal and that I’d go light if I came.
She said it was fine.
At the restaurant, things immediately felt off.
She ordered a massive steak with three sides, appetizers, and drinks.
I ordered a simple salad. Water only.
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make it awkward.
Then the waiter placed the bill on the table.
Without even looking at it, she smiled and said,
“Oh, we’ll just split it.”
I nodded calmly.
What she didn’t know was that when I arrived, I had quietly spoken to the waiter.
I asked him to keep our orders separate.
When he returned, he placed two receipts on the table.
Her smile faded.
Her total was just over $180.
Mine? $22.
She stared at the bill, confused, then annoyed.
“I thought we were splitting it,” she said.
I replied gently,
“I told you I couldn’t afford your order. I paid for mine.”
She paid. In silence.
We didn’t talk much after that.
Some people call it petty.
I call it setting boundaries — and sticking to them.
