When my friend Mia said she wanted to set me up with her boyfriend’s friend, I hesitated. Blind dates usually scream disaster. But Mia insisted this guy was rare material. “Polite. Smart. Steady. A true gentleman,” she said.
So I gave in.
His name was Eric. From the first message, he seemed normal in a refreshing way. No dry one-word replies. Full sentences. Actual interest in conversation. After a week of messages that felt easy, he asked if I wanted to get dinner downtown.
The night seemed promising. He arrived early holding a bouquet of roses, dressed like he cared about making a good impression. He pulled out my chair at the restaurant. He complimented my outfit. He even gave me a keychain with my initial engraved on it.
For a moment, I thought I had stepped into a rom-com.
Dinner went smoothly. We laughed about bad dating experiences, complained about movie ticket prices, and talked about places we hoped to travel someday. When the check arrived, I reached for my wallet, but he slid his card down without hesitation.
“A man pays on the first date,” he said confidently. It was a little old-fashioned, but I didn’t mind.
He walked me to my car, waited until the engine started, then waved goodbye. It was a nice night. Normal. Comfortable. I texted Mia on the way home: You might be right about him.
The next morning, I woke up expecting a sweet message. Instead, I opened my email and saw a subject line that made me frown:
Invoice for Last Night
I figured it was a joke. Maybe a meme. But once I opened the attachment, my whole mood changed.
It was a real invoice.
Professional layout, logo at the top, and a detailed line-by-line breakdown of “charges”:
Dinner: $120 — “Paid in advance”
Roses: “Cost repayable through future physical affection”
Keychain: “Gift requiring reciprocation”
Effort: “Kindly repay by holding hands during date #2”
At the bottom in bold:
Failure to comply may result in Chris hearing about it.
Chris — as in Mia’s boyfriend. Eric’s friend.
I stared at the screen, not sure if I wanted to scream or laugh. He had reduced an evening together to a business transaction and then used social pressure as a threat.
I immediately texted Mia.
Me: You need to see this.
I sent her the invoice.
Her: WHAT. THE. HELL. He’s lost his mind. Do not reply.
Turns out, she wasn’t going to let it die there. She got Chris involved. And Chris was furious.
That afternoon, he sent Eric a “response invoice” — complete with a fake law firm logo and terms like:
Emotional manipulation fee
Public creep behavior penalty
Out-of-your-league surcharge
At the bottom:
Failure to pay will permanently affect your social standing — non-negotiable.
Eric did not take it well. He blew up my phone with messages:
“You don’t get sarcasm.”
“It was supposed to be funny.”
“This is why dating is impossible.”
“You blew it with a great guy.”
I didn’t argue. I sent a single thumbs-up emoji and blocked him.
Later, Mia called, laughing so hard she had to catch her breath. “I swear I didn’t know he was like that,” she said. I believed her. His true personality had been well-hidden behind manners and a nice dinner.
Looking back, I’m glad he revealed himself immediately. If he hadn’t sent that invoice, I might have kept seeing him — thinking he was considerate instead of controlling.
The invoice was proof. He didn’t view kindness as something freely given. He saw it as leverage. A debt. A way to keep authority in the relationship before it even existed.
And the worst part? The document felt rehearsed. Like he had done this before.
Since then, Mia and Chris have cut ties with him. Apparently, he kept insisting I “couldn’t take a joke” — the classic line of someone who refuses accountability.
Honestly, I’m just grateful I didn’t waste more time. The date became a funny story instead of a long-term problem.
Now when someone asks about my worst date ever, there’s no competition.
“I once got an invoice from a guy after one dinner,” I say.
The reaction is always the same — wide eyes and disbelief.
But the best part is this: he thought he was teaching me a lesson.
Instead, he taught me to trust my instincts sooner.
Because the man who expects payment for kindness is not generous.
He’s a walking red flag.