No D-Bag, I’m not going to sleep with you Friday, Jun 18 2010 

Have we established that BT is insecure? Check. That BT is possessive? Check. A huge d-bag? READ ON.

My visit (from the prior post) concluded, and BT and I fell out of touch. 7 months later, he calls and after indulging in a lighthearted conversation about our respective lives, BT addressed the reason for his call:

Due to a recent promotion and more flexible work schedule, he wanted to fly out and visit me.

I’m not going to lie. His proposition was kind of flattering. The feeling of “YAY I’M SO SPECIAL SOME RANDOM GUY WHOM I RANDOMLY MET IN SOME RANDOM BAR SOME 7 RANDOM MONTHS AGO STILL RANDOMLY THINKS ABOUT ME AND WANTS TO VISIT ME RANDOMLY, z.O.M.G.!” however, was ephemeral.

Shortly after discussing the logistics, BT suggested I fly out to visit him instead. I mulled seriously over this, but ultimately decided that it was not the best fiscal time for me to do so. After informing BT of said unfortunate circumstance, he offered to help me out with the plane tickets. I declined because…becausebecause it did not feel right. A lot of back and forth ensued and I finally agreed when BT offeredahempersistentlyinsisted on “helping me out” again. We agreed to split the tickets.

The entire situation blows up while we’re on the phone hashing out the deets, flight itinerary carnage and all:

Me: “Hey, so I spoke with My Friend and she’s cool with me staying at her place when I’m there.”

BT: “Wait………………Why won’t you be staying with me?”

Me: “Uh…I think it would be safer that way…”

Alright, so I suffered from a bout of word vomit myself, but I swear BT made it worse.

BT: “Safer? What do you mean?”

Me: “You know what I mean.”

BT: “No, I don’t. Please tell me.” He knew.

Me: “BT. You KNOW what I mean! In any case, we’ll be hanging out the entire time since the purpose of my trip is to see you.”

BT: “No, let’s talk about this. We need to address this to clear up any misunderstandings.”

Me: “I. don’t. want. to. address. this. There’s nothing to address.”

BT: “We have to address this, so we know what expectations we have of one another.”

Me: “I can’t believe you’re making me talk about this. Are you serious?” I’m turning pink from embarrassment.

BT: “Yes, I think it would be best to bring everything to the table – open communication.”

Me: “You want open communication? Fine. Expectations? Well here’s one, so you’re perfectly clear…I am not going to sleep with you.”

Two minutes of pregnant silence.




BT: “……like……other……stuff…..Aw man, there’s no way of saying this without it sounding all bad…”

Me: “Go ahead. You forced me to say stuff. It’s your turn now.”

BT: “Well, like, I mean, we’re both at very unpredictable times in our lives right now. You’re going to law school in State X and I’m going to business school in State Y, so I can’t guarantee anything. All I can do is suggest that we have fun for a few days. With this trip, if I were to personally invest, I can’t help but have expectations.”

Me: “What kind of expectations?”

BT: “I can’t say.”

Me: “You started this whole thing.”

BT: “It’d be hard for me to keep from ripping your clothes off.”

Me: Choke-y gurgling noise…………“Alright, whatever. Just……whatever. I guess it’s not a big deal, so alright, I’ll stay with you.” Wishing the conversation was over at this point. Wishing that I hung up when I had the chance. Re-playing this ridiculous exchange in my head.

BT: “Hooray, yippee!” (I totally made that up, insert whatever noise/word is used to express male jubilation)

When it came down to booking my flight…

Me: face turning fuchsia b/c I’m embarrassed to confirm. “So, we’re splitting the tickets?”

BT: “You really can’t afford it? Like you can’t put it on your credit card, and pay it off within the next few months? The interest won’t be that bad. I should know. I work in a bank and I do it all the time.”

so serious, Red!

Me: RED. Face is a dangerous shade of red. “No, I told you. I can’t.”

BT: “Well, see, if you paid for your own tickets, you can do whatever you want. You can hang out with me, your friends, whomever. There’d be no expectations and no pressure. But if I were to invest…”

His sentence literally trailed off. As in he was douchey enough to make me talk about expectations, douchey enough to insinuate that he had expectations, and douchey enough to “pretend to not be a douche” by not verbalizing that if he were to invest, there would be pressure.


BT: “It’s getting late. Why don’t you think about it and let’s touch base tomorrow.”

Me: “kbye.” Asshole.

The cherry on top? I had this conversation days….DAYS before my LSAT (law school admission test). High-strung, stressed out, anxious, pimple-ridden, depressed, neurotic, and about to lose my marbles, this conversation happened to me days before THE determining factor to my future. BT knew it too. He knew the exact date of the test. He knew how much and how hard I’d been prepping. And he subjected me to this appallingly and outrageously obnoxious conversation.

Gets better. Post-LSAT and LSAT-bash thrown in my honor (thanks N, you the best!), BT and I continue to talk to each other about everything but the trip. We don’t talk trip, and trip goes ker-plunk. Friendship goes SPLAT shortly thereafter.

I’m riding the bus one night, seriously tipsy (a fantastic idea. Think I’m joking? I’m not.) when shit chunks hit the fan. BT and I were texting when I asked if he knew Friend (his friend from the previous post that was “hitting” on me à la BT’s delusions) was going to visit my state the following week-end.

BT: “Yeah, wonder if he’ll try to hook up with you again. Are you trying to hint that I should come and visit you?”

FURIOUS. I was FURIOUS, partially because my veins were bloody pumped full of rosé.

Me: “Careful now, your insecurities are showing. Don’t blame your friend just because your plan to pay for sex didn’t fly.”

I calmly deleted his number, shut off my phone, went home, signed onto Facebook, and un-friended him. Later that night, I turned my phone back on. There were three text messages.

1. “What???”

2. “Wait, are you serious??”

3. “Are you mad because I didn’t pay for your ticket? I don’t know why you’re acting like this, but we’re definitely not friends anymore.”

Fine by me – we weren’t friends for a long time comin’. But I had to write him back, because he was WRONG and he needed to know it. I could not be misinterpreted by a BOOR of all things, so I wrote him the following e-mail :

Here’s my opinion. You can consider it if you want.

I am not mad that you didn’t pay for my ticket. I am disappointed in your lack of credibility and in the reason behind your offer to split the tickets.

I would like to remind you that I never asked you for anything. You initially called asking if you could come visit me. When the idea evolved into visiting you, and I expressed how the trip was not financially feasible, you offered to help me out on two different occasions. I never asked you to pay for my flight. If you’re not going to do something, don’t offer to as it strips a person of their credibility. A trip was your idea, so it should have been your responsibility to see it through. Instead, it was all a means to no end and thus, a waste of time.

It is still not the fact that you didn’t pay for my ticket that is disappointing, but why you offered to. You rescinded your offer when I told you I would not fulfill certain expectations. This indicates to me that you were only willing to split the tickets because you assumed your expectations would be fulfilled. With that, you attached a monetary value to the purpose of the trip, and it became too “mail-order girlfriend” for me. And FYI, if we split the ticket, we would’ve been equal. No one would owe anyone. If anything, I would bear the added hassle of flying there and back.

It is also incredibly insulting to know what you think of me as a person, assuming that I was angry because you didn’t shell out the bucks for the trip. I didn’t even ask for your help, and you only offered with strings attached. You subjected me to such an embarrassing conversation by reducing any significance of the trip in bringing a vulgar topic onto the table and using it like a bargaining chip.

Your text came out of nowhere and sounded bitter. I merely asked if you knew Friend would be visiting, and out came this hook up business, which sounds like you don’t trust your friend. Your questioning of whether I was hinting that you should come out to see me was accusatory, and made me sound manipulative and insinuating something when I wasn’t. I also believe you knew the answer to that question, and I just wasn’t up for a scrimmage of coy remarks that would lead nowhere.

I wish you the best.

Some of you may wonder what the big deal is. Nothing. I don’t believe in dalliances with people I barely know and trust is all.

I expect more – sing it, Aretha – RESPECT. Since BT was literally seeking more bang for his buck, I don’t understand why he didn’t cruise local street corners for it. 150 dollars and a nice piece of ass? BAM! That oughta do the trick mighty satisfactorily.

Me? I’m not a mail-order anything. So, “hit the road, Jack, and don’t you come back no mo no mo no mo no mo.” I’m not the goods born out of a transaction. I’m not a service. I’m not a vending machine. And I most certainly will not deliver myself just because someone paid for shipping. Gents, worthy ladies are to be earned, not bought. ‘Nuff said. And, I WILL SURVIVE.

hi Aretha. I love you.


Insecure Mister Monday, Jun 7 2010 

Have you ever had two guys fight over you? How about a guy who thought his friend was flirting with you (see: overly protective, possessive, delusional, insecure, I could go on), and went all passive-aggressive on his bro? Obviously with my happy-go-lucky self, I got the latter  sitch. Did I forget to mention that the guy was not my boyfriend and that I’d only met him a few days prior? Sigh. True story.

I met BT while visiting some out-of-state besties, and we hit it off. After hanging out with our freshly formed (my buds + his buds) group a few times, BT may or may not have, at some point, kissed me, to which I may or may not have, slammed a passenger car door in his face and run away. It happens.

In any case, I guess he liked putting up with some chase because he’d responded positively to my coquette little text: “you have soft lips mister!”

“Trouble” starts a-brewin’ however, when our group reunites at a pub about an hour later. The skinny: I was sitting between BT and his friend when BT left for the restroom. During this time, Friend and I got into an engaging conversation, which continued for a little while when BT returned. After, BT sort of tugs on Friend’s shoulder, pulls out his phone, and shows him something without saying a word. Friend’s facial expression evolves from confusion to comprehension to mild irritation to indifference before glancing over at me. He then decided to join our other friends’ conversation.

Me to BT: “What did you show him?”

BT shows me the text I sent him.

Me: “Why did you show that to him?????”

BT: “Because he was hitting on you. I want him to know that you’re mine.”

I was instantly annoyed. Unfortunately, I didn’t show it because I still liked BT and those buttery, fluttery feelings got in the damn way of my practical judgment. But since BT and I had an epic falling out over another issue that’ll be addressed next post, I have no qualms ripping this apart:

  1. Delusional much? Yes. His friend was NOT hitting on me. We had the most benignly platonic conversation on the face of the earth and that’s as far as I’m going to go to “justify” that.
  2. Possessive much? Oui. If BT was my husband, he would not own me. If BT was my boyfriend, he would not own me. Since BT was neither husband nor boyfriend, he doubly did not own me. I may be claimed (as in taken off the market), but remember that I decide whether or not person-in-question can claim me. Conclusion? No one will ever exercise ownership of yours truly, because I am not an object.
  3. Passive Aggressive much? Si. But that’s not my problem. If BT wants to be a little bitch (wouldn’t that be the guy’s term for it?) to his homeboy, fine. It would’ve however, been in his best interest not to because I only learned that he has jealousy, trust, and perception issues. Dangerous.
  4. Sooo, is Friend no longer allowed to talk to me? Am I no longer allowed to talk to him? Well lookie here, I’LL TALK TO WHOMEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE. I can only imagine what BT’s rules entail when you’re in an actual relationship with him…as I mentioned earlier, I’d only known him a few days and “you’re mine” was already thrown around seriously.
  5. I’m a rather private person, aside from airing my bad dating beeswax on the internet. This is why I was irritated that BT showed a personal text of mine to his friend. And using it to snuff out imaginary competition? What poor form.
  6. Finally, everyone already knew BT liked me and that the feeling was mutual, including his friend. So really, why did he feel the need to pummel the point through by parading his cell phone about like some trophy? Right, right, right…Insecure, delusional, yadda yadda.

In conclusion, don’t be crazy.

Pick-up Lines 101 Monday, May 31 2010 

“You have really good posture. No, I’m serious. I’m really impressed.” (2005)

“I want to be President of the United States…and you, my First Lady.” (2006)

“When I become a state trooper, I’m gonna arrest you for reckless driving and bring you back to my place…” (2008)

state trooper or not, I ain't going anywhere with you!

I’ve been fed some hysterically bad pick-up lines, but the worst attempt was not without a dash of good ol’ reverse psychology:

Once upon a time, I was hanging out (it wasn’t a date) with a new friend TT, when he tried to…you know what, I’m not sure what he was trying to do. Instead of being straightforward and telling me something along the lines of “hey, I like you”, TT expressed the sentiment in an incredibly roundabout fashion.

The background scoop – during a girl’s night out a few months prior, my entourage met and befriended TT and his friends. TT put the moves on a fellow gal pal, but he was sent on his not-so-merry way when she told him she was in a committed relationship.

Fast-forward: after a sunny day of hanging out, i.e. exploring the cultural sights of the city, TT and I literally stumbled upon a seedy, Chinese karaoke watering hole and decided to enjoy an apéritif.  Oh come on, I have to class it up a little! Once perched atop bar stools cracking open peanuts and nursing whisky gingers, TT and I start to chat about our mutual friends.

Fast-forward another minute into this tête-à-tête, and TT broaches the night we all met:

TT:      “So, I don’t know if you know this, but that night, I tried to ask your friend out.”

Me:     “Yep, I know.”

TT:      “OK, well, when we first saw you girls, we were calling dibs, and I had dibs on your friend. But once she told me she had a boyfriend, I backed off. I’m not that kind of guy. I would never get in the middle.”

Me:     “ok…”

Me: “…………………………….why………. are you telling me this?”

TT: “I want you to know that after your friend, I thought you were the next most attractive. I still do.”

Lord, I crack myself up just reliving these moments. Pure comedy. And I swear I’m not clever enough to make this stuff up. Now onto the serious business:

Look Ma, I got SECOND place!!! And boy, what a great build up!! Menfolk – how you square away your wooing arrangements “amongst the guys” is your business, so DON’T tell the object of your desire how the nitty-grit went down. Although TT gets points for truthfulness, they’re revoked because he was unnecessarily frank.

TT and his crew objectified the crap out of me and my friends. Dibs! How about a bidding war for the flock of sheep? Or stock of chickens? Shiny bales of hay? Who’s the shiniest of them all? At least now I know I’m second shiniest. And of course, we do not have any of our own thoughts and feelings to form an opinion about the men zeroing in.

I'll take the redhead on the far left

Oh darn, I’m coloring outside my own lines. I can’t care about the objectifying because I’m not supposed to know about it! So objectify your hearts out. You’re entitled to. Just don’t tell your…target…that you did with her. Understood?

Alright, I’ll amend that rule just a tad. I suppose you may share with your primary objective that according to you, she’s the most attractive of her group. It’s flattering, but not the classiest maneuver since you’re pitting her against her friends and vice versa. Show exclusive interest in her, and everyone will know you are attracted to her “best”.

The rule, however, stands strong for your secondary objective, if you’re going to have one. Don’t tell her about the rock paper scissors, pulling straws, or what have you that occurred beforehand. Don’t tell her that you ranked her and her friends and only moseyed on over because you were shot down from the reigning rank. Don’t tell her she’s second best because any self-respecting woman will see right through the compliment-cloaked jab.

In this case, I just wanted to stay friends. Ultimately, it wasn’t possible because TT’s intention from the start was to get with someone. Anyone. He’d aimed for best, and played a hand with runner-up without getting to know either one. Of course I thought that he genuinely started to like me, but we were still strangers to one another and he didn’t appear interested in getting to know me for me. If ever the case, direct your efforts towards cultivating a solid friendship to determine whether a potential (and reciprocal) romance could result. If so, don’t mention previous attempts with her girlfriends, bite the bullet, and disclose your warm and fuzzy feelings.

The Outlier Friday, May 28 2010 

Before moving on, I am going to butcher one final thing CO said to me. And move on, I shall, or I’ll become a hypocrite for talking the money talk while expressly forbidding it in the previous post.

I’m well aware that I have a tendency to overanalyze things just a touch, but I truly believe that CO dug himself into a deeper grave with this non sequitur stunt. He messaged me on-line and after about a minute of your average pleasantries, I became preoccupied with another matter. What does he cleverly do to hail my attention?  Out of nowhere and thus sorely out of context, CO writes, “does the [your] company reimburse you for lunch?”

Upon my word, I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous! I only wish you could have witnessed the incredulity splayed across my face. I wanted to ignore him, but he’d already piqued my interest, so I responded, “no. Why?” He answers, and I kid you not, “it adds up haha.”

my sentiments exactly, kitty!

I’ve decided to dub CO as an outlier because he hasn’t a clue as to what consists of socially appropriate behavior. I’d be willing to bet he could ask me how much I make without batting a lash or blushing. I’ve never, ever thought to inquire even my closest friends for such irrelevant information, nor have they asked me, because perhaps, just perhaps, there are SCADS more less mundane things to talk about. Just a thought.

We’re not going to discuss how he broke the “don’t talk money” rule, but is money all he thinks about? Is that the best ice-breaker he’s got? Was he honest-to-god sitting there, mulling over whether my company reimburses me for lunch, and if not, that my buying lunch everyday adds up? And most importantly, WHAT of that question, exactly, is any of his business?

It adds up? Well, it certainly does not subtract down. Do you care to include any more scintillating insight, CO? By all means! And what’s with abusing the “haha”? Unless we point out the hilarity of this having occurred, I don’t find the exchange remotely amusing. I’m out.

UP NEXT: The worst pick-up line!

(Don’t) Show me the Money Friday, May 21 2010 


Don’t talk about it, plain and simple. It’s fickle. Uncomfortable. Private. Impolite. Sensitive. Rude. Gravely personal. Potentially embarrassing. And probably the most disputed over thing ever.

There are three rules that I learned while studying in Paris, of which I have proclaimed my loyal allegiances to ’til the day I die:

  1. “Préservatifs” are not preservatives, so don’t mention it at the dinner table. It’d be in your best interest to look the word up because you actually want “la confiture”.
  2. Keep your hands visible at the dinner table. The French like to see what their guests are doing above, rather than below (saucy!).
  3. More relevantly – DO NOT TALK ABOUT MONEY IN POLITE COMPANY. Discuss the stock market? Fine. The technical details of Madoff’s ponzi scheme and not the sum of your embezzled loss? Go ahead. You’d also be a keeper if you follow the euro – gotta look out for that reasonably fiscal opportunity to return to Paris!

BUT, steer away if conversation gets even a smidgen monetarily personal. Each individual’s relationship with money is unique. Therefore, do not drown the person you’re dating with details of your financial character until you are truly getting close to him or her, like maybe after 5-7 dates. Maybe.

You should be familiar with CO from my previous post. Well, we begin to chat about what we like to do in our free time when out of nowhere, he looks me dead in the eye and says verbatim: “I’m actually very frugal. I don’t usually spend money, at all.” WOW…on so many levels! But the worst is that CO verbalized this to me on the first date. Holy book of etiquette, how did Uncle Scrooge segue into that?

Please do not ever tell anyone that you are frugal. Social Sacrilege! Dating Sacrilege! It doesn’t matter if you are indeed frugal; it is an awkward association, since frugality is not necessarily a commendable trait. The word is a level above “stingy”, hovers below “thrifty”, and its antonym is practically “generous”. If you have to mention a $ related characteristic (you don’t and shouldn’t), “financially conscious” would be more appropriate.

TB had the opposite malady – an insufferable habit of bragging about his and his family’s wealth. Case in point: during a conversation about life in college, he told me that his father once asked him for his checking account balance, to which he’d responded, “around $10,000”. TB then informed me that daddy Warbucks fretted over the small amount. The end. That’s the story. Wait, wait…SERIOUSLY?

Money speaks volumes, but please do not speak (of) money. It’s incredibly poor taste. I was mortified because CO and TB obliterated their respective conversations. I am not going to try and fathom what compelled them to share, or what purpose they’d hoped to achieve because I don’t know how their thought processes, or lack thereof, work.

How did CO and TB expect me to respond to their gratuitously gauche commentary? Gaze at CO in  awe and gush, “it’s so awesome that you’re frugal!” ? Swoon over TB? Or ring up some homies to mug  the guy, because he’s trying so hard to tell me something…oh…that he’s RICH, right? I seriously  considered the latter.

BORING. These two did not present themselves using colorful language and positive  terminology. In  CO’s case, being “frugal” doesn’t reflect well: is that all he can think of to describe  himself? I’m  ambitious! I’m happy! I paint! I run marathons! I watch action movies! I cook a mean  lasagna! I  follow sports, politics, the weather channel! No, no. I’m……frugal. Pfffffffffffffffffttt. Way to  deflate that balloon.

The same goes for TB. Instead of telling me about something interesting and engaging, like maybe how he found himself passed out in a bush with whipped cream in his hair after some raging kegger, he attempted to show off and mask the fact that he is very boring. Having 10k in a bank account tells me nothing. Point is, you don’t have to lay all your dollarz out on the table. Humans are perceptive; we can put two and four together (6) and deduce a persons’ relationship with money vis-à-vis their actions.

Pilot – Dating Rule #1 Friday, May 14 2010 

No cappuccino love from KJ!

To Pay or Not to Pay?

Terrible question, isn’t it? Oh, precious dollars and cents. Parting with it is such sweet sorrow…

However, parting with a potentially worthy girl will guarantee regretful sorrow, so it’s worth the initial investment to pay up, especially on the FIRST DATE. Here are two personal examples of epic fails :

Last year, I agreed to a coffee date with KJ, whom I met through a dating site. We chatted for a bit and he seemed cool – a biochem Ph.D. student at Cal who enjoys biking. The following ensued chez le cafe : KJ ordered first, and moved off to the side. He did not ask me what I would like to drink, so I proceeded to order. As the barista said, “that’ll be $3.25”, I hesitated for a fraction of a second, sneaking a quick glance over to the reality of KJ playing with his Iphone. I stalled just a little bit more by digging for my wallet and reluctantly handing over my sleek black credit card. Oh yes, I put the coffee on my card to see if KJ would actually let me do something that absurd. He did.

Last week, I went on a coffee-turned-lunch date, initiated and amended by CO. This time, CO let me order first. However, as I proceeded to the cashier, I noticed that he did not accompany me. While I was ordering, CO finally arrived by my side…and ordered from the next cashier over. Sun dried tomato and goat cheese pizza? $8. Charging it to my Mastercard as a reminder that no, he did not pay or offer to pay for my lunch on the lunch date that he suggested? Priceless.

No second dates, though they’ve asked. Why? Because gentlemen,  you reap what you sow. Among other disqualifications, KJ and CO sowed nothing, so they will reap nothing. From me, anyway.

Disclaimer (finally!): I am not a gold digger, lookin’ to hook herself up with a flush sugar daddy. I have a career profession. I’m independent. I’m a feminist (holla to my women’s college alma mater!), and I’m proud that I am financially able to care for myself, e.g. pay for my meals. In any case, we can perhaps discuss equality on the going dutch thing when womens’ salaries match mens’ across the board. In the meantime, CHIVALRY SHOULD NOT BE DEAD.

Isn't that a steal for 8 dollars?

  1. I met KJ and CO on dating sites. DATING. This typically means people are not looking to become “just friends”; they’re searching for potential girlfriends. boyfriends. romantic partners. that special someone. their other half. This hikes the standards up just a notch. So it ain’t casual son, there’s a protocol.
  2. Am I going to go there? Yes. Coffee – $3.25. Pizza – $8. For god’s sake, my concealer costs $13. My mascara? $13. Nail polish? $9. And all this from Walgreens. What about the ladies that purchase their go-to items from department stores? NARS bronzer, $40. Bobbi Brown cream eyeshadow, $36. Perfume, $90. My point? The lady invests in the fact that the gentleman is attracted to her. And honey, no matter what anyone  says, attraction ain’t free to maintain. The gentleman should pay for the first date because he appreciates her and her efforts.
  3. If the gentleman asks the lady out, he has a responsibility to follow his invite through.  I wasn’t the one who initiated – KJ and CO pursued me. If I’m special enough to catch their eye, I’m special enough to merit a cappuccino. Sorry, but it was not a privilege for me to just bask in their presence.
  4. Not only did KJ and CO not pay, but they also did not offer to. A casual, “hey, I got this,” or “don’t worry about it, it’s on me,” is the polite thing to say. That way, you can justify having been generous. It is now her decision to accept or refuse from the guy with good manners.
  5. Again, I’m not on a dating site to find new friends. I have enough friends to go dutch on the town with. And guess what? Even my “just friends” treat me to a drink on occasion and pitch in for my birthday dinner. A date is a special occasion, even if it’s “grabbing coffee”, so make an effort to acknowledge that.

To wrap this up, KJ and CO were so smitten that KJ suggested getting lunch at one of his fave restaurants, and CO wants to go on a mission to try different cuisines. Sorry boys, but you’ve both left me wondering whether I’ll have to shell out again, and your other qualities didn’t redeem from the original faux pas.

Golden Rule – You must invest in order to yield a return.

Last thing: the opposite issue occurred with TB (more lessons from him in future entries!). He e-mailed to tell me that he would be paying for our first (lunch) date. Please do not do that. Though considerate, it is impolite to directly address money matters. When the bill comes, just reach over and take care of it.