When Eric insisted on paying for our first date, I thought I had finally met a true gentleman. He arrived with a bouquet of roses, not the supermarket kind, but carefully arranged ones from a florist, tied with a soft ribbon that made the whole gesture feel special. Along with the flowers, he brought a small gift that was wrapped neatly in a box with a cyan bow. He greeted me with a warm smile that made me think this could be something different, something special. It felt like a scene straight out of one of those romantic comedies my best friend Mia and I used to binge-watch on weekends. And I could already hear Mia’s smug voice in my head saying, “I told you so,” because she was the one who set this whole thing up.

I wasn’t convinced at first when Mia mentioned she wanted to introduce me to Eric. “Come on, Kelly,” she had said with excitement bubbling through the phone, “Eric’s such a great guy. You’ll love him.” I rolled my eyes as I dug through my closet looking for something to wear, unsure whether to take her seriously. “You’ve never played matchmaker before,” I pointed out. “Why are you so sure he’s my type?” She didn’t miss a beat. “Because I know you better than anyone. And Chris thinks he’s a stand-up guy. You trust Chris, right?” That gave me pause. Chris, Mia’s boyfriend, was a great judge of character. If he was vouching for Eric, maybe this guy was worth meeting after all.

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “At least send me a picture first.” Moments later, my phone buzzed with a message. When I opened the photo, I saw Eric—clean-cut, dressed well, and smiling in a way that seemed genuine. “Okay,” I admitted, “he’s cute.” Mia squealed like she’d just won a prize. “I knew you’d say that! Now text him. You’re going to thank me later.”

After some casual messages back and forth, we set a date. Dinner at a new Italian restaurant by the river—fancy enough to be special but not intimidating. The kind of place where a first date could go either way. I showed up five minutes early, nervously checking my reflection on my phone. That’s when I spotted him walking up. He looked even better in person—tall, polished, and holding those roses. “You must be Kelly,” he said as he handed them to me. “These are for you.” I was taken aback in the best way. “Wow, thank you! You didn’t have to do this,” I replied. “I wanted to start the night off right,” he said smoothly. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he pulled out the small gift box. “This is just a little something,” he said, encouraging me to open it. Inside was a sleek silver keychain with the letter “K” engraved on it. Thoughtful, personal, simple. “Mia told me you might like it,” he added.

At this point, I was floored. Between the flowers, the gift, and his effortless charm, he was either incredibly thoughtful or really good at making a first impression. And honestly, I wasn’t going to complain. “This is so nice of you,” I said sincerely. The night continued on the same note. Eric opened doors, pulled out my chair, made steady eye contact, and listened carefully as I talked about my job as a graphic designer. He remembered details from our messages, like my favorite books, weekend hikes, and even the name of my brother’s dog. Over dinner, he asked, “So what made you say yes to this setup?” I laughed. “Mia can be very persuasive. And Chris vouching for you definitely helped.” He smiled. “Chris and I go way back to college.”

The conversation was effortless. We shared a love for true crime podcasts and documentaries on bizarre subcultures. He told funny stories about his job in marketing, and I found myself thinking this was easily one of the best dates I’d ever been on. Then came the check. I instinctively reached for my purse, but Eric stopped me cold. “Absolutely not,” he said, sliding his card into the check holder before I could even react. “A man always pays on the first date.” His tone wasn’t just polite—it was final. I hesitated, but then shrugged and said, “Okay, if you insist. Thank you.” As we walked out together, he asked if he could call me soon. “I’d like that,” I replied, meaning every word. He gave me a friendly yet promising hug, and I drove home thinking I had just experienced the best first date of my life.

But the next morning, everything changed. I woke up to a message from Eric. Groggy and smiling, I expected something sweet like, “Had a great time last night.” Instead, there was an attachment. Curious, I opened it. It was a receipt from dinner, itemized and detailed, with a note underneath: “Just so you know what I spent.” My heart sank. Suddenly, all those gestures—the flowers, the gift, the bill—felt like transactions. And I wished more than anything that I hadn’t let him pay.