I WENT ON A DATE WITH A GUY MY FRIEND SET ME UP WITH. HE ARRIVED BEARING FLOWERS.
NOT A GROCERY STORE BUNCH – ACTUAL ROSES.
DINNER WAS PERFECT.
HE WAS CHARMING, OPENED DOORS AND PULLED OUT MY CHAIR.
WHEN THE CHECK CAME, I REACHED FOR MY WALLET-BIG MISTAKE.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” HE SAID, SLIDING HIS CARD DOWN. “A MAN PAYS ON THE FIRST DATE.”
I WALKED AWAY THINKING IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST FIRST DATES EVER, UNTIL THE NEXT MORNING, WHEN I SAW THAT HE’D SENT ME AA VERY DETAILED EXPENSE REPORT FOR THE EVENING.
ITEMIZED.
FROM THE ROSES ($25.99 – AND HE’D GOTTEN THE GOOD ONES, APPARENTLY) TO THE TIP ($18.50 – HE WAS A GENEROUS TIPPER, I’LL GIVE HIM THAT).
THE TOTAL CAME TO $147.63.
BELOW THE ITEMIZED LIST, IN BOLD CAPS, WAS A SINGLE SENTENCE: “JUST SO YOU KNOW WHAT A REAL GENTLEMAN SPENDS ON A FIRST DATE.”
My jaw dropped. All that charm, the roses, the chivalry… it was all meticulously calculated, a performance designed to impress, and then quantified, as if expecting some kind of applause, or worse, repayment in something other than cash.
I showed the message to my friend, Sarah, who had set us up. She read it, her eyes widening with each item. “Oh. My. God,” she finally breathed. “I am SO sorry. I thought he was genuinely nice!”
“Nice and… calculating,” I said, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anger. “It’s like he was keeping score. And broadcasting it.”
Sarah felt terrible. She insisted on calling him to give him a piece of her mind. I hesitated, but honestly, the audacity of the expense report fueled a fire in me. “Go ahead,” I said. “Let him have it.”
I listened to Sarah’s side of the conversation, which was heated and one-sided. I could hear her voice rising, punctuated by indignant gasps. Apparently, he was defensive, claiming he just wanted to be “transparent” and that “women these days expect everything for free.”
Sarah hung up, fuming. “He’s a complete jerk,” she declared. “Don’t waste another second thinking about him.”
And you know what? She was right. The roses, the dinner, the charming gestures – they were all tainted now. It wasn’t about connection or getting to know me; it was about a transaction, a power play disguised as chivalry.
I deleted his number, blocked him on social media, and took a deep breath. It was a valuable lesson learned. Real gentlemen don’t send expense reports. They offer kindness and generosity without keeping score. And while the date itself had been momentarily lovely, the morning after revealed the true colors. Sometimes, the best dates are the ones that teach you exactly what you *don’t* want, and help you appreciate the genuine article when it eventually comes along. And honestly, in the grand scheme of dating disasters, an itemized expense report was almost… comical. At least I had a good story to tell. And I definitely wasn’t sending *him* a thank you note.