My friend, bless her heart, set me up on a blind date. I was hesitant at first, as my track record with dating apps and setups was… less than stellar. But she swore this guy, Mark, was different. She described him as a true gentleman, kind, funny, and genuinely looking for something real. So, I decided to take a leap of faith and agreed to meet him. From the moment he arrived, I was pleasantly surprised. He wasn’t just on time; he was early, holding a beautiful bouquet of roses – not the cheap grocery store kind, but actual, thoughtfully arranged roses. He looked handsome, smelled amazing, and his smile genuinely lit up his face. Dinner was at a cozy Italian restaurant, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about everything and nothing, laughing and connecting on a level I hadn’t experienced in a long time. He was charming, attentive, and every bit the gentleman my friend had described. He opened doors, pulled out my chair, and listened intently when I spoke.
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When the check arrived, I instinctively reached for my wallet, wanting to at least offer to split the bill. But Mark immediately waved my hand away, a slight look of disapproval crossing his face. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly, sliding his credit card across the table. “A man pays on the first date.” I was a bit taken aback, as I’m a firm believer in equality, but I also couldn’t deny the old-fashioned charm of his gesture. I thanked him profusely, feeling a warm flutter of excitement and hope.
The date ended with a sweet goodnight kiss at my doorstep. I walked inside, feeling like I was floating on air. This could be it, I thought. This could be the start of something truly special. I texted my friend a gushing review, thanking her for setting me up with such an amazing guy. I fell asleep that night with a smile on my face, dreaming of future dates and possibilities.
That was until the next morning, when I woke up to a text message from Mark. It started off seemingly sweet and innocent: “Good morning! I had a wonderful time last night. I’m so glad we connected.” My heart fluttered with excitement. But then came the kicker: “I’ve attached a detailed breakdown of the evening’s expenses for your consideration.” Attached was a spreadsheet.
I opened the attachment with a growing sense of dread. It was a meticulously itemized list of every single expense from the date: the roses, the appetizers, the main courses, the wine, the tax, and even the tip, all broken down to the last penny. And at the bottom, in bold font, was the grand total: “Your Share: $87.42. Venmo: @MarkTheGentleman.”
I was floored. Speechless. The charm, the roses, the paying on the first date – it was all a carefully calculated performance, designed to trap me into some bizarre, transactional relationship. I immediately blocked his number and sent my friend a scathing message about her “gentleman” friend. I learned a valuable lesson that day: sometimes, the most charming gestures can hide the most unsettling intentions. And always, ALWAYS insist on splitting the bill.
