No, You Choose. Really.

An email conversation, for your enjoyment.  My friend... we'll call her Patty... and her husband were going to meet Hitter and me for dinner after she got off work last night.  And the following insanity ensued:

Patty (5:07 pm) Hey... are we still meeting tomorrow?
Me (6:12 pm) Yep we're planning on it.  You have to work, right?  Wanna meet somewhere halfway-ish?
P (7:31 pm) You pick.  We'll meet you there
P (8:24 pm) PS Hubby says no mexican, he's still allergic to seafood.  How about that fancy BBQ place halfway between us?
(me, inside my head: he's STILL allergic to seafood?  did he think that would go away?  and you ate at a mexican restaurant that serves FABULOUS shrimp enchiladas twice in the last month, so WTF?)
Me (8:34 pm) Perfect, I've been wanting to go there. 
P (8:48) Reservations are required.  How about 7:00?  Do you want to call or should I?
(and before I even had a chance to respond to this email or call)
P (8:52) Earliest reservation is 9:00, I said no.
(the next two emails were sent simultaneously)
Me (8:55) Yeah that's a bit late.  What about 1st Ave?  No reservations required, and Hitter and I can get there a little early to get our name on the list. 
P (8:55) I know Hubby said no mex, but what about Vista Grande?  I know we can sit around and drink and not get run out.  Let me know your thoughts.  No strip clubs.
Me (8:56) I wasn't aware there were any strip clubs around here!  Can your hubby stay sufficiently seafood-free there?  I mean I want to see you guys but it isn't worth anaphylactic shock!
P (10:32, replying to my 1st Ave suggestion) K, where is that?  I mean I know it's on 1st Ave, but which town?
Me (5:55 the next morning, 10:30 is WAY too late for me) Whoops!  I meant 1st Ave Grill!  It's across the street from the mall, just down the street from the fancy BBQ place you'd suggested.  (sidebar: I don't even know where there is a "first avenue" around here... they don't name streets that way in this little section of Hillbilly Hell)
P (7:58) Bandana's BBQ.  7:15.
(me: reading entire email thread to Hitter, laughing at how "you pick" turned into "here's what you're doing, and you're going to like it")
Me (12:05) OK see you then.
P (12:50) Is that ok?
Me (1:14) Yep
(me, inside my head: do I even have a choice?!)

This totally brought back the memory of the night, in the first year of our marriage, that Hitter offered to take me out to eat, and said "anywhere you want to go... your choice" 
Me: Italian
Him: No, I just had that yesterday at work
Me: Chinese
Him: No, I'm not really in the mood.  How about Mexican?
Me: what happened to "anywhere you want to go"?????
and for those keeping score, we still went for Mexican food. 
Hi, I'm a doormat.  How are you?