Oh, I’ve definitely thrown stupid money at meals in the past, especially when I lived in the States. Back then, it was dinner out every weekend. Starters, mains, cocktails with far too much garnish, and desserts we didn’t need but ordered anyway “for the table.”
Was it worth it? Well… I can’t remember a single dish. Not one. But I do remember the people, or at least the stories that went with them. Bad dates, great friends, too many laughs, and the occasional dramatic exit (not mine, I swear). It wasn’t about the food. It was about being present, being seen, or sometimes just pretending we were fancy when we absolutely were not.
Nowadays? Nah. I’d rather not. I look at restaurant prices and think, “For that, I could pay my electricity, feed myself for a week, and still have enough left over for a bottle of wine and a bar of chocolate.”
Give me a homemade meal, a comfy chair, and someone decent to talk to. No bill shock, no forced small talk, and I can eat in my pajamas. Heaven.
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
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