The Value of An Expensive Meal

There was a time not too long ago when I thought Outback Steakhouse meant splurging. (You mean a steak AND a bloomin' onion? Crikey!) I felt this way because I knew Outback was more expensive than cooking burgers on the grill or running down the street for a footlong from Subway.

I also felt this way because I really didn't know any better. Then I met this girl named Bridget.

Bridget has a lot of ideas -- some of which even stick. (Others like, "Hunny, let's sign up for this three-legged marathon race!" aren't so good.) One of her best brain surges, no doubt, has been the one that has us going out for an expensive-ish dinner once every month or so. As usual, it takes me a while to warm up to these ideas. My defenses in relation to eating out at swankier places were fairly predictable:

• "$40 for a single piece of meat? Does the waiter chew the damn thing for me, too?"
• "Shouldn't we spend the money on something like sports tickets instead?"
• "Yeah, but we'd be full after a meal at Pizza Hut, too!" 

Still, my darling wife persisted and we've started to enjoy an occasional pricey meal or two. And, well, she was right. Just this past weekend, we took advantage of Restaurant Week here in Boston and ate an absolutely delicious meal at a place called Rialto in Cambridge. From the ridiculously tasty bread, to the tender mussels, to the melt-in-your-mouth tenderloin, to the gooey marshmallow thing I ate for dessert, it was off-the-charts good. (In fact, I reviewed it on Yelp, which I do now.) 

After the meal, as we walked home, I got to thinking about why the experience was so good. I couldn't pinpoint one thing, realizing that the ingredients, the food itself, the service, and the ambiance all contributed to the feeling. But really, it was more than that. It was more about the experience itself. It was about the anticipation, the dressing up, the knowing how lucky we are to have some disposable cash. It was everything. 

If we did it every weekend, of course, it would lose its appeal. (As I read recently in a book about memories, "Monotony collapses time; novelty unfolds it.") But we don't do it every weekend and we occasionally miss a month because we're on one of our 11 honeymoons. But when we do go, I find the value to be far greater than the $100-$200 that leaves our account.

Besides, how many fried onions can one man eat? 

Our First Wedding Since Our Wedding

This past weekend, Bridget and I had the pleasure of attending a wedding in Breckenridge, Colorado. Bridget's childhood friend, Rebecca, and Bryan -- now known as the Applegates -- got hitched and, as you can see from the photo above, it was gorgeous. Like, absurdly gorgeous.

It was also the first wedding Bridget and I attended since we were married in March and, to my surprise, it was a whole different experience.

Every wedding is different, you say. Well, of course. Some are big. Some are small. Some are lame. Some are fun. (This one was.) Some are on the beach. Some are in a church. Right. Weddings are different. But this one was different because we had been through the experience. This time, it was sort of like having a backstage pass. Bridget and I could celebrate -- and sympathize -- like we never had before.

Three examples:
1. We saw Bryan right before the big moment. He was slowly sipping on a beer and trying to avoid seeing his soon-to-be bride. "You nervous?" Bridget asked. "Yeah, a little," he said. "Can you tell?" We could because he neglected to breathe as he spoke. Immediately, my mind went back to the moment before I saw Bridget when I was somewhere in between vomiting, passing out, and crying. I knew exactly how Bryan felt.

2. It briefly started raining during the outdoor ceremony. Now, obviously, no one likes rain during an outdoor wedding, but Bridget and I were the first ones to notice. We stared nervously at each other. "What if the sky opens up?" "Should we go get umbrellas?" "Do you think there's going to be a mudslide?" It sprinkled for a total of 30 seconds, but if you've been through a wedding, you know how important the weather is that day -- and how much you obsess over it.

3. They had trouble with their gift bags, too. The next day, while Bridget and I hiked a trail (pictured to the right) above Breckenridge (which, by the way, is the greatest town ever created), Becca called to say thank you. They chatted about pictures, eyelashes, and all sorts of girl things. And then they chatted about how the hotels made some mistakes with the gift bags. Bridget pointed out that we had the same issue and, immediately, my mind when back to that day when you were so concerned about every ... little ... detail ... going ... exactly ... the ... right ... way. Sure, it doesn't matter in the long run, but when a guest comes all that way and doesn't get their bottle of water, you're angry.

The wedding went off without a hitch -- as most do -- and beer, wine, and sighs of relief flowed freely into the night. But for a night, we were taken back to the amazing highs and the tiny lows. We have two more weddings this fall (congrats Kate and Kate, and Tim and Amanda) and we look forward to attending both. Along with attending, we'll be loudly celebrating and quietly commiserating, too.

To those couples and anyone else getting married this year, good luck with the damn gift bags.

The Birthday Evolution

I turn 32 this week. It's not significant in any way. There's nothing I'll be able to do on Wednesday that I can't do on Tuesday. No new shots at a bar, no significant discounts on rental cars in a lot. Nothing. Heck, it's not even a nice, round number like 25 or 30.

My 32nd birthday is important, though, because I think it may be one of the last that comes with an expensive gift from my wife.

Is this because she's cheap? My wife may be many things (addicted to magazines, a watcher of bad television, and stubborn on occasion, for example), but she is not cheap. One of her first blog posts sums this up. It may be the last time I get an expensive gift because of the birthday evolution I'm fairly certain every married couple goes through.

Let me explain.

When couples that end up marrying first start dating (for Bridget and I, this was June of 2010), birthdays are a big deal. Depending on how long you've been together, you ponder what would be appropriate. And you ask everyone you know. "Do I buy her jewelry? If I do, what is that saying?" Or, "Should I buy him that really nice camera or just get him a shirt? I don't want to come on too strong!" Ah, memories. Simply put, you aren't afraid to spend a lot because you're thinking this is THE one.

Then, as the dating goes on, the birthday train rolls on. Electronics here, trips there. And somewhere along the way, you realize that the person is definitely THE one. That realization puts even more pressure on birthday gifts as you want to make sure your offering appropriately symbolizes how you really feel. This led, in our case, to things like iPads and diamonds. Those are expensive.

Then you get married and, for many people, start thinking about money in terms of "us" instead of "me" and "you." (Bridget and I are in this phase now.) That's when things really start to change on the birthday front. You start thinking about buying houses, having kids, and taking family vacations. Instead of iPads and expensive cameras, I suspect, we'll put most of our money toward things for the house or non-stop (and much more convenient) flights for the family to somewhere. Birthdays, of course, will still be important, but a drawing of a dog from your 4-year-old kid will be worth far more than the priciest shirt from some boutique I've never even heard of.

This year, Bridget got me a really nice pair of headphones and is taking me out for an expensive dinner in San Francisco. She's very generous and I'm really thankful for both of them. But as we were driving home from a nice birthday dinner with my family last night, Bridget looked at me and said, "You know, we really don't need anything." She's right, I thought. Although the wonderful and expensive gifts have been nice, it's the other stuff -- thinking about the future and our lives together -- that is important.

And it made me realize I'm really happy to be turning 32.

The Fiscal Diet

As I've mentioned in past posts, I’ve started training for a half marathon. And as with all my harebrained schemes, I first like to invest in various accessories to properly equip myself. “Retail before action” is my motto.

So I recently decided that I REALLY needed more capri pants for running. There was no way I could commence running in this heat (oh, the incessant heat!) without purchasing some new running capris. These capris were an essential element of my running wardrobe, and I was in desperate need of them.  Things appeared grim until I could acquire new capri pants.

I explained this pressing need to Mike. He appeared confused. “But sweetie, don’t you already have enough pants?” he asked, helpfully. Certainly not! He was surely mistaken. And how dare he question my need for new workout gear.

Then, during an expedition to my closet, I uncovered a treasure trove of workout pants. It turns out that I already owned eight pairs of capri running pants. Eight! Not including long running pants or running shorts, of course. Those I also had in spades.

This discovery was a bit sobering. And it was at this time that I began to wonder if I had a problem.

Maybe I should have recognized there was an issue when I was greeted by a new shipment from Amazon/Zappos/Gap/RueLaLa/Banana Republic/Endless every week. Or maybe I should have realized things were getting out of hand when I could no longer stuff any more clothes into the spare bedroom I’d turned into my closet. Or when I would discover various items of clothing lodged deep within my dresser drawers, with the tags still attached.  Or even the umpteenth time I bought an article of clothing, only to bring it home and realize I already owned the same exact item.

My name is Bridget and I’m a shopaholic.

So I’ve put myself on a fiscal diet. Specifically, I’ve decided not to buy any “things” for next few months. I’m on month two of said diet, and I’ve discovered something a bit unexpected. Now that I’ve decided I’m not going to buy anything, I feel, well, relieved. I don’t have to read the five million emails I get daily about new discounts and sales. I don’t have to spend hours trolling the internet for deals on things I don’t need. I don’t have to buy another ugly tank top that I’d never wear just because it is 70% off.

And as for all that money I’m saving by not buying things I don’t need? Well, don’t worry. I’ve already spent that on a honeymoon to Mexico. Because if there is one thing I CAN justify spending money on, it is white sand beaches and cocktails with my husband. And ten years from now when we look back at this time in our lives, I guarantee Mike and I will have better memories of our travels than we do of my capri pants. At least I will. Mike really likes capris.

The Second Annual Summer Concert Series

Eddie Vedder

In just more than four months of marriage, I've realized many things. Here are five quick lessons: Sometimes just say "yes" even if you mean "no." Don't argue about $4 soap. She'll never like golf as much as I do. No matter how stupid I think E! is, it will be on sometimes. And, it's okay to be wrong.

Above all else, though, I've realized it's really, really important to have things in common. (I often wondered about this when I was younger. Is it really important to like many of the same things? Yes, young Mike, yes it is.)

And, fortunately, Bridget and I have one very important thing in common: Musical taste. (In case you were curious, a study actually found that music predicts sexual attraction.) Having the same taste in tunes makes it much easier to be on long drives together, hang out in the same room, and spend money on concerts.

During the summer we fell in love, last summer, in fact, we went to 10 different live shows:

1. Paul Simon
2. Eddie Vedder
3. Joe Purdy
4. Florence and the Machine
5. James Taylor
6. The Damnwells
7. Bon Iver
8. Led Zeppelin 2
9. Ben Harper
10. Explosions in the Sky

Bridget liked Bon Iver the most; I chose Eddie Vedder.

The Head and the Heart

This summer, music continues to be a huge part of our relationship. We've already seen Joe Purdy, The Head and the Heart, and Josh Ritter and Brandi Carlile. The setlist continues this summer and fall:

• The Lumineers
• Bon Iver
• Ben Harper

And even though some of the shows won't be fantastic (Ben Harper was lousy last summer, for example), it's much, much more enjoyable watching them with someone you love. Awww...