While out at dinner with the fiancée tonight at a small local Chinese cuisine eatery, P.F. Changs. You may have heard of it. I made a strange, but not surprisingly new realization. I don't always wear the pants in my relationship.

Not those pants, nobody should wear those pants. Except for maybe a Russian MC Hammer.

This realization came to me after discussing who was going to pay for dinner. I looked back on our dinning experience so far. Alison being the more outspoken and outgoing, had naturally ordered for the both of us. Now before you start picturing a scene in which the following phrase was said by Alison "I'll have the Kung-Pao Scallops, and the lady will have Mongolian Beef." It wasn't like that at all.

We had decided on doing the "Four Course Meal for $39.95" deal. The waiter asked if we had decided on what options we had chosen, and Alison was the one to speak up first. Ordering for the both of us, while all I was able to sputter out at the waiter was "white rice please." This was piled on top of me being driven to this romantic date night by my fiancée, in her own car.

After we had completed our meal, followed by the "Great Wall of Chocolate" (the most manly of the deserts. This comment is covered in as much sarcasm as that slice of cake was covered in chocolate) the waiter placed the bill on the table. We discussed who was buying lunch the following day and who should pay for dinner tonight. Deciding on Alison paying for dinner we slipped her card in the holder under the gift card we had decided to use as well. I can only imagine the thoughts that went through our waiters head as he read the name on the card. Not because she was a girl paying for dinner, it's the 21st century, women can do what they want.

I can see it now, our waiter was probably waiting for Alison to help me put my jacket on and give me a quick pat on the butt as we walked out. Followed by her opening my car door for me and letting me in first. I am not complaining though, it's nice to have a sugar mama. But I am aware that once I graduate and get a big boy job, that I will have to repay Alison with nights out in which she doesn't end up paying for our meal. I will eventually have to purchase and wear the pants in this relationship.

Preferably these pants. Hot damn do I want these pants. But until that time arrives, I can hope that Alison doesn't get fed up with me and cuts me off.