Yeah gender: The "you're the boy, so you pay" edition

First: I'm more than fine with Paying For Things (tm). If I had my way, I'd do it all of the time; however, I don't get my way all of the time. And thus: Indian food was on Punk Rock Femme yesterday.

Rather, dinner was supposed to be on PRF yesterday. I must've been working my dude game proper, because the waitstaff dropped the check on me. I mean, right on me. The waiter could not have been more obvious about giving it to me. She essentially tucked it under my left elbow, despite the fact that there was a wide gulf of open table sitting between me and PRF. The check could have gone, you know, right into that gulf, into the empty "who will pick up this check?" space.

But no. My wearing of the hat and having of the short hair and whatever else I was doing to indicate check-picking-up ability meant that I got it. And PRF and I looked at each other. We giggled. She took the check, dropped some insane amount of cash down and bounced for a few minutes.

Here is what transpired while she was gone:

Waitdude: Sir?
Me: Uh ...
Waitdude: Miss ...?
Me: Uh ...
Waitdude: Are ones okay for the change?
Me: I ... it's not my cash, so ...
Waitdude: [hands me the change] Many ones!
Me: [puts change on other side of table]
Waitchick: All set?
Me: I'm not getting it, I don't know.

Luckily, PRF came back in time to deal with it before I had to fight off the waitchick with a spoon.

So, just a note: in Northern Virginia, if you look like the dude, you get to pay. It's 1957 up in this state!