It happened again. Last night, my husband and I got a babysitter for our little one, got all dolled up and headed out for a wild night on the town (read: dinner and a movie). We went to our favorite Texas-style eatery, enjoyed a delicious meal, and then my evening was brought to an abrupt pause with the question from our waitress as she wrapped up our leftovers: "Is this going to be one check or two?"
My husband tried to make a joke out of it. After she walked away, he said (with a wink), "Oh, she was just trying to see if she could come home with me tonight." He then followed up a few seconds later with, "What would you have done if I had said two checks?" Um, yeah. That would have been a stand up, exit the restaurant, and wait for you, seething, beside the minivan. It's hard to be rageful when you are driving home in your husband's minivan, but I somehow would have managed.
Earlier this year, I actually posed the question to my friends on Facebook: How often are you and your spouse/significant other asked if it will be one check or two in a restaurant. 90% of my friends responded with something along the lines of, "Never!...and I would be downright offended by the question!" One friend told me, "As a former waitress, I can tell you all of the people who wanted separate checks made that clear when they first sat down, and I would never ask a table of two that!"
Marriage is hard. Being in an interracial marriage in the South can be darnright aggravating. I think moments like this wouldn't be so difficult for me if I remembered, on a daily basis, that my husband and I are different colors. I'm not colorblind, I don't think such a thing really exists. It's more like I'm color indifferent. I just forget that, to the rest of the world, we don't always look like a matched set the way we do to ourselves.
For the record, the waitress didn't ask either of the white couples next to us if they'd like one check or two.