Restaurant Bill Dispute

The argument over the restaurant bill

I don’t even know how to react. Should I beg Lucía, my wife, to stay? Or should I say, “Go if you want”? I thought we loved each other, that we were planning a child, that we were building a future. But last night’s dinner at the restaurant turned everything upside down. Over a stupid account! Now I wonder: Was I wrong not to pay for her friend Marta, or was it Lucía who made a mountain out of a molehill? But one thing I do know: this fight has made me think about what’s really going on in our marriage.

We’ve been married for three years, and I always thought we had it made. Yes, there are minor arguments: who takes out the trash, what movie to watch, or where to go on vacation. But we always understood each other. Lucía is my love, my rock. She’s brilliant, intelligent, and I’m never bored with her. We even talked about having a baby, choosing names, joking about pushing the baby around in her stroller. And now, over a simple dinner, she blurts out: “If you treat me like this, maybe we shouldn’t be together.” How is that possible?

It all started when we went to dinner yesterday with Lucía and her friend Marta. Friends since high school, they’ve always been inseparable. I tolerate her, although sometimes her habit of opining on everything as if she knew everything drives me crazy. But for Lucía, I’ve always been polite. We ordered food, wine, and laughed. Everything was going well until the bill arrived. I looked at it: a considerable sum, but nothing excessive. Then Marta, with a smile, said, “Adrián, you’re treating, aren’t you?” I froze. We hadn’t mentioned me paying. I thought we’d each pay our own way, as we always do with friends. But Lucía looked at me as if the obvious thing to do was to take out my wallet without protest.

Trying to salvage the evening, I suggested, “Let’s split the bill, shall we?” Marta nodded, but Lucía remained silent, her gaze turning icy. We each paid our own way and went home. In the car, Lucía exploded: “Couldn’t you pay for Marta? She’s my best friend! You humiliated me in front of her.” I tried to explain that I didn’t see the need for it, that we’re not rich enough to treat everyone. But she didn’t listen. “If you’re so stingy,” she said, “I don’t know how we’ll ever be together.” And she added, “Maybe I should leave.” Leave? For a bill?

At home, the argument continued. Lucía yelled that I didn’t respect her friends, that she was embarrassed, that she never thought I’d be so “mean.” I protested: “Lucia, we’re saving up to renovate the house and for the baby. Why should I pay for the 30-euro cocktail Marta ordered?” But she just snapped: “It’s not the money, it’s your attitude!” What attitude? I’ve always taken care of her: vacations, gifts, little things. And now I’m being mean for not inviting her friend?

I spent the night on the couch, and the next day Lucía said she’d think about staying with me. I looked at her in disbelief: was this the same Lucía we’d dreamed of a future with? Was she really going to break everything for this? I doubted myself. Should I have just paid? But then I thought: why feel guilty? We hadn’t talked about it. I’m not an ATM for her friends.

I called my friend Álvaro to vent. He listened and said, “Adrián, it’s not about the money. Lucía wanted you to show generosity. Let her friend see what kind of husband she has. And you disappointed her.” Maybe he’s right. But if it was so important, why didn’t she say so sooner? I would have paid without hesitation. Now I wonder: should I beg her to stay or give her space? I love her, I don’t want to lose her. But I also don’t want to become someone who always gives in.

Today I tried to talk. I said, “Lucia, let’s talk. If I hurt you, I’m sorry, but I didn’t understand what you were hoping for. Let’s be clear.” She looked at me and replied, “It hurts me that you didn’t think about me. Marta now thinks we have problems.” Problems? Because of this? I suggested meeting with Marta, clearing the air if necessary. But Lucía remains silent, and that silence scares me.

I don’t know what to do. Should I insist? Should I let her go? How can I destroy everything over a silly thing? We love each other, we had plans. Or was it just me who believed it? I look at our wedding photo and think: Will this end over dinner? Maybe I should have paid and avoided the conflict. Or maybe this is a chance to understand what truly matters to us. I just know I don’t want to live without her. But I don’t want to live without respecting myself either.