The Fine Dining Of Indecision

Last night, after Brittany returned home from work, we headed out to grab some food and visit a friend of ours. You might think this sounds like a simple affair. You would be wrong. The decision to go out to eat is often a simple one that leads to enormous and daunting complications. Primarily, we can never arrive at a mutually acceptable decision concerning where we want to eat. Often, not even the type of food can be agreed upon. Fast food? Restaurant? Mexican? Italian? Chinese? What basically happens is that we pile into the car and hit the open road, intent on enjoying the journey rather than the destination, because the decision about the destination is something that is often made for us, and born out of equal parts frustration, starvation, and geolocation (the proximity of the nearest building with food in it when all negotiations break down often being the chief determinant.) So last night, after driving off down the street, I play the role of the loving and supporting man, and ask my lovely little lady where she would like to eat tonight. She first tells me, “Anywhere. I’m not really hungry, so I don’t care.” My first impulse was to greedily accept this obviously Opposite Day answer and make a beeline straight to my (current) favorite restaurant to indulge in a delicious steak. However, this...

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