Dessert, Anyone?

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a restaurant having dinner with some friends, enjoying a girls' night out and some uninterrupted adult conversation. It was getting later in the evening and the plates had been cleared away but no one was in a rush to leave (gotta make sure you stay long enough to let the hubby get the kids in bed, after all). The waiter came by and asked if anyone was interested in dessert.



I answered right away.



Nope. None for me.



I told the waiter I'd take my bill whenever he could bring it. I was full, but not stuffed. Comfortable. I cozied in to my glass of Pinot Noir. One friend ordered a cocktail, the other, a creme brulee. We continued to chat and giggle as we swapped stories about our kids. A night out without our babies and yet, somehow, the conversation always came back around to them.


As the minutes ticked by, though, I found myself eyeing the dessert menu. It was just sitting there gaping open, beckoning for me to take a look. I started thinking that maybe I was too quick to make a decision earlier. I had, after all, dismissed it without looking at any of the choices. I had just assumed that nothing could have topped the dinner and the conversation. And I wasn't sure I wanted to risk ordering a dessert that didn't live up to my expectations. I knew that I didn't technically need anything else. God knows, my metabolism (and my thighs) would thank me later.


But my eyes kept wandering. Maybe I wasn't that full. The triple chocolate layer cake did sound amazing. Where was our waiter?? I wished he could just bring the check already so the decision would be made for me. I wouldn't want to make him run back to cancel out my ticket.


The minutes ticked by and he finally showed up with the bill. But by then, my resolve was weakened. Still, I reached into my purse for my card and went to place it on the table. But I stopped short. I was aware that my girlfriends had stopped mid-sentence and were now staring curiously in my direction.


"Is something wrong with your check, miss?" (Side note: major brownie points to the waiter for making me feel young).


"No. It's fine. I'm....just...." I trailed off.


"I think I spoke too soon," I said to him apologetically. "I've decided I'd really like dessert after all. Would it be too much trouble for you to add it to my check?"


"Absolutely no trouble at all," he reassured me. "Do you need more time to look at the dessert menu?"


"No, I think I know exactly what I want now."


And with that, I slipped my card back into my wallet and closed my purse. When I looked up, my friends looked at me knowingly and snickered. "We knew you would change your mind."


And I think now, looking back, I knew it all along too.