I went on a date with a guy my friend set me up with.
He showed up with roses—actual roses, not some cheap grocery store bouquet.
Dinner went perfectly. He was charming, polite, and made all the right moves—opening doors, pulling out my chair. When the check arrived, I reached for my wallet, but he stopped me.
“Absolutely not,” he said, sliding his card across the table. “A man pays on the first date.”
I left that night feeling like it was one of the best first dates ever.
That is, until the next morning when I saw he sent me a Venmo request.
Not just any request—an itemized invoice for my portion of the dinner, tax and tip included.
At first, I thought it was a joke. Maybe some quirky humor. But then I clicked the link, and sure enough, it was a legit Venmo request for $68.42.
I stared at my phone, confused. Was this for real?
I messaged him: “Hey, is this a joke?”
His reply was instant: “No joke. I don’t believe in letting women think they can just get free meals. I paid as a courtesy, but now that the date is over, I expect fairness.”
I was floored. This wasn’t just about the money—I could afford it. But it was the principle. He had made such a big deal about paying, even shutting me down when I tried to contribute, and now? Now he was demanding I pay him back like I owed him something?
I replied, taking a deep breath: “You made it clear YOU were paying. I offered.”
His answer? “Yeah, well, I wanted to see if you were the type of woman who expects a free ride. Now I know.”
I could feel my blood pressure rising, but I took another breath. Not worth it. I blocked his number, ignored the payment request, and went on with my day.
That should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t.
A few hours later, my friend—the one who set us up—texted me: “Uh, what happened with you and Kevin? He just posted a rant about you online.”
I groaned and clicked the link she sent me.
It was a long Facebook post about “modern women who use men for free meals” and “feminists who want equality but still expect traditional dating norms when it suits them.” And, of course, he tagged me.
I couldn’t believe it. He had the audacity to shame me publicly.
The comments were a mix of people laughing at him and others—mostly his friends—egging him on. Some even found my profile and messaged me, saying things like, “Pay the man back, princess,” and “Hope that steak was worth it, gold digger.”
I was furious.
At first, I thought about ignoring it. But then I decided—screw that. He wanted a response? I’d give him one.
I screenshot our texts, his Venmo request, and his post. Then I wrote my own:
“Ladies, beware of Kevin [Last Name]. He insisted on paying for our date, then sent me a Venmo request for my share. When I refused, he publicly shamed me. If you don’t want to deal with someone who conducts social experiments instead of having genuine connections, steer clear.”
My post quickly went viral.
Women began sharing their own horror stories of guys like Kevin. A few even recognized him and added their own experiences. It turned out I wasn’t the first woman he’d pulled this stunt on.
Then came the unexpected.
Kevin messaged me again.
“Wow. So you’re going to ruin my reputation just because you couldn’t handle paying your fair share?”
I laughed and replied: “Oh, you ruined your own reputation, buddy. I just shared the receipts.”
That was the last I heard from him. He deleted the post, but by then, the damage was done. His name was circulating in local Facebook groups as a red flag.
A few days later, my friend apologized profusely for ever introducing us. She had no idea he was like that.
Lesson learned: If someone is overly nice on a first date, it might be a setup. Always trust your gut when something feels off.
Oh, and Kevin? If you’re reading this—I hope that $68.42 was worth it.
Have any of you had a date go unexpectedly bad? Share your stories in the comments! And don’t forget to like if you enjoyed this post!
