2 AM.

He was kinda tipsy and her feet hurt. The bar was closing, but there was a party at someone's house and everyone was invited. He wanted to go, and her feet hurt.

He didn't know where the party was but he could definitely get a ride. He didn't know the guy who was throwing the party, but he knew the band, the members of which were friends of the guy who was throwing the party and who had been assured him that it was totally cool if he came along. He didn't get out as much as he used to in college.

It was 2 AM and her feet hurt. She'd dressed nice for the evening and was wearing high heels. They looked great but felt awful after four hours standing on a hard floor, even with the wine. The wine had worn off a while ago. She'd come to see the band with him, even though she didn't know them very well. She was happy to go, because she loved him, and she had liked the band. It had been a fun evening, but it was now 2 AM and her feet were seriously killing her.

"There's a party at someone's house," he said.

"Yeah. Is that what you want to do?" she said. She knew he wanted to go.

"Maybe," he said. He knew that her feet hurt.

There was a long silence, as they watched the other happy bar patrons exiting and going off to their parties or their homes, depending on whether their feet hurt. They both hoped for distraction from this issue, though they knew it would have to be addressed.

"You can go if you want," she said. She didn't want to be a mean girlfriend.

"No, it's okay. We can go home," he said. He didn't want to be in the doghouse.

"Are you sure?" she asked. She knew he was afraid of the doghouse, and wanted to make it clear that it really was okay if he went. Really.

"Yeah, no, it's late," he said. He didn't believe her.

He explained to his friends that he was just going to head on out, and they understood because they saw her standing next to him. She resented being seen as a ball and chain or a leash, but in the end, her feet hurt and she was secretly relieved to get her way. They walked off with his arm over her shoulder.

As they left, Josh and I turned to look at each other, both of us shaken by the surreal event of having something from your past acted out in front of you. We had stood by them, unable to tear our eyes away from the drama unfolding before us. We watched it happen exactly as it has happened between the two of us when it's 2 AM. He's gone home before he was ready, and I'd stayed out when my feet hurt. I hoped that by watching the scene between another couple, I might be able to figure out the answer. What should happen? What is the proper ending to the play?

I came up with nothing. I sympathized with him, because he was having a good time and he wanted to keep doing that. And I sympathized with her, because she'd been hanging out with his friends all evening and was trying to be understanding. Maybe the answer is that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do because other times the other person has to do things they don't want to do. It doesn't seem like much of an answer, and it won't help me the next time it's 2 AM and my feet hurt, but it's all I've got.