When my best friend Mia insisted on setting me up with her boyfriend’s friend, I hesitated. Blind dates
weren’t really my thing. But Mia promised he was polite, thoughtful, and dependable. His name was Eric.
From our first messages, Eric seemed genuinely interested. He wrote in full sentences, asked thoughtful questions,
and didn’t act pushy. After a week of chatting, he suggested dinner at a well-known Italian restaurant downtown.
The night started well. Eric arrived early with a bouquet of roses and a crisp button-down shirt. He pulled out my chair,
complimented my dress, and even gave me a small keychain engraved with my initial. Conversation flowed easily
over dinner—travel, work, and funny past dating experiences. When the bill arrived, he waved me off.
“A man pays on the first date,” he said. Old-fashioned, but harmless. He even walked me to my car and waited until I drove off.
The next morning, I expected a sweet follow-up text. Instead, I found an email titled “Invoice for Last Night.”
At first, I thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t. The document listed charges for dinner, flowers, the keychain,
and even “emotional labor,” each with ridiculous repayment conditions. At the bottom, it warned: “Failure
to comply may result in Chris hearing about it”—Chris being Mia’s boyfriend. I immediately texted Mia.
Her reaction was swift: “Oh my god. He’s insane. Don’t respond.” She then involved Chris, and together
they sent Eric a mock “invoice” of his own, listing playful penalties for making someone uncomfortable and acting entitled.
Eric’s messages quickly turned from defensive to angry, then self-pitying. I ignored him. The situation
ended with Mia and Chris cutting him off completely. Looking back, the night started like a romantic
comedy but ended as a lesson in red flags. What seemed charming at first revealed entitlement and control.
Kindness or generosity isn’t a debt to be collected. I didn’t pay him back the way he expected—but I did pay attention. And that was worth more than any dinner bill.
