“Something quiet,” you’d said. It had been a long week. The suggestion was good: a small place nearby, no queue, no music you had to shout over. Exactly right.
A week later, it suggests another quiet evening. And another. Very considerate. You’ve accidentally become a category.
Tonight you want people. Possibly loud ones. Someone has mentioned dancing. Your knees haven’t been consulted, but the rest of you is interested.
“That might feel a little overwhelming,” says the helpful voice in this imagined exchange.
You look up from the phone. Your shoes are already on.
“I was tired when I said that.”
“Got it. Let’s find something livelier.”
That was easy. Almost suspiciously easy. You had prepared a whole defence of your right to leave the house.
A friend asks who you’re texting. “Just sorting something out.”
“Are we going?”
You put the phone in your pocket. The suggestion is useful. The evening still has to happen.
At the door, you remember the one preference that hasn’t changed. “Somewhere we can eat afterwards.”