It all started when my friend, bless her heart, decided to play matchmaker. She introduced me to this guy, let’s call him…Chad. Now, Chad seemed perfectly normal, maybe even a bit of a catch, at first glance. He had a decent job, his own apartment, and a smile that could probably charm your grandma. I was cautiously optimistic, mostly because my dating life had been a series of unfortunate events involving guys who thought wearing socks with sandals was a fashion statement. So, when he suggested dinner at a relatively nice Italian restaurant, I figured, “What do I have to lose?” Little did I know, I was about to enter a whole new level of dating absurdity that I never thought possible. He arrived at my door with flowers – not the kind you grab at the grocery store checkout, but actual, honest-to-goodness roses. **Red roses**. Now, I’m not one to be easily swayed by grand gestures, but I’ll admit, it was a nice touch. Dinner itself was surprisingly pleasant. Chad was attentive, held my chair, opened doors, and even managed to crack a few jokes that didn’t make me cringe internally. We talked about everything from our favorite books to our dream travel destinations, and for a fleeting moment, I thought, “Maybe, just maybe, this could actually go somewhere.” **Everything seemed picture-perfect**.
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Then came the moment of truth: the check. As any self-respecting, independent woman would do, I reached for my wallet, fully prepared to split the bill. Big mistake. Apparently, Chad had other plans. With a slightly smug grin, he swatted my hand away and declared, “Absolutely not. A man pays on the first date.” Now, I’m all for chivalry, but something about his tone rubbed me the wrong way. It felt…calculated. Nevertheless, I thanked him, and we left the restaurant. The evening ended with a polite hug at my doorstep, and I went inside, feeling cautiously optimistic about the possibility of a second date.
The next morning, I woke up, made some coffee, and started to go through my phone. That’s when I saw it: an email from Chad. My initial thought was that it was a follow-up, maybe suggesting another outing. Oh, how wrong I was. Instead of a sweet message, I was greeted with a subject line that read, “Dinner Invoice – [Your Name].” I froze. My heart sank, and I slowly opened the email.
What followed was the most bizarre, jaw-dropping, and frankly, insulting thing I have ever experienced in my entire dating life. Chad had sent me a **detailed invoice** for the cost of our date. And I mean DETAILED. It itemized every single thing he had paid for, down to the last penny. The roses: $25. The appetizers we shared: $18. My entree (the salmon): $32.50. My two glasses of wine: $24. The tip: $23.47. And, to top it all off, a $40 “dating fee”. The total? A grand sum of $163.47.
I stared at the email, completely dumbfounded. I had to read it three times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I was being billed for a date I didn’t even ask for! The audacity of this man was truly astounding. I immediately took screenshots and sent them to my friends, who were equally horrified and amused. My friend who set us up was mortified.
Needless to say, I will not be going on a second date with Chad. In fact, I blocked his number and deleted his email. The whole experience left me feeling bewildered and slightly violated. Who sends an invoice after a date? Is this some new level of cheapness? I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. I guess the moral of the story is, always split the bill, or better yet, just stay home and watch Netflix. At least Netflix doesn’t send you an invoice.
