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Over plates of handmade pasta and a shared bottle of Chianti, the conversation flowed with an ease that is rare for two strangers. We laughed about past dating fiascos and bonded over our mutual ambition. Eric seemed grounded, confident, and entirely present. There were no red flags, no subtle jabs, and no uncomfortable silises. When the check finally arrived, I made the customary reach for my purse, but Eric waved it away with a sharp, confident smile. “Absolutely not,” he insisted. “A man pays on the first date. It’s a matter of principle.” While the sentiment felt a bit performative, I accepted it as a charming, if slightly antiquated, romantic gesture. He walked me to my car, waited until I was safely inside with the engine running, and offered a polite wave as I pulled away. I drove home feeling a rare sense of accomplishment; I had finally gone on a “good” date.
The following morning, I sat down with my coffee and opened my laptop, fully expecting a “hope you got home safe” email or a request for a second meeting. Instead, I found a message with a subject line that felt like a bucket of ice water: “Invoice for Services Rendered / Date of Jan 23.”
The bottom of the email contained a clinical, detached note. It stated that while he had enjoyed the evening, he felt that the “investment of resources” should be shared equally until a formal commitment was established. He requested that I settle the balance via a mobile payment app by the end of the business day. The message concluded with a subtle, veiled threat: he hoped I would “do the right thing” so he wouldn’t have to discuss my “lack of financial integrity” with Chris and Mia.
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