When Eric insisted on covering the bill for our first date, I thought I’d found a true gentleman. A bouquet of roses, a thoughtful present, engaging conversation—he seemed to be ticking every box. But when I got a text from him the next day, I expected something sweet. Instead, what I read made my stomach churn.
My best friend Mia had nothing but good intentions when she suggested setting me up, but matchmaking had never really been her forte.
“He’s such a great guy, Kelly! Total gentleman. You’re going to adore him,” Mia said confidently over the phone while I tore through my wardrobe, looking for something decent to wear.
“You’ve never played Cupid for me before,” I reminded her. “What makes you think you know who I’d go for?”
“Because I know you better than anyone,” she answered with complete certainty. “Plus, Chris knows him really well. They’ve been friends for years.”
That last part gave me pause. Chris—Mia’s boyfriend—was someone I trusted. If he thought Eric was decent, there might be something to it.
“Alright,” I gave in. “At least show me a picture of this mystery man.”
A moment later, a new message pinged on my phone.
The guy in the photo wasn’t bad-looking at all—neatly groomed, dressed well, and with a smile that seemed warm and sincere.
“Okay, yeah, he’s cute,” I admitted.
“Told you!” Mia squealed. “Text him. Make plans. You’ll thank me.”
After exchanging a few friendly messages, I agreed to meet Eric for dinner at a new Italian restaurant that overlooked the river. It wasn’t overly fancy but had the perfect vibe for a first date.
I showed up five minutes early and stood near the entrance as we’d agreed. I was fixing my hair using my phone’s front camera when I noticed him walking toward the door.
My heart gave a little flutter. The photo hadn’t done him justice—he was just as good-looking in person and carried himself with quiet confidence.
But what caught me completely off guard was the bouquet he held.
Not your basic grocery store roses either—a full, professionally arranged bouquet wrapped with ribbon.
“You must be Kelly,” he greeted me, flashing that same warm smile from the photo. “These are for you.”
“Oh wow, thank you,” I said, genuinely caught off guard as I accepted the flowers. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“Just wanted to start the evening on the right foot,” he replied smoothly, handing them to me.
But he wasn’t done.
From the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a small gift box wrapped with a teal-colored bow.
“What’s this?” I asked, brows arching in surprise.
“Just a little token. Go ahead, open it,” he said, watching me expectantly.
Inside was a sleek silver keychain with a capital “K” engraved on it. It was simple but personalized—clearly something he’d put thought into.
“I figured you’d like it,” he said. “I even asked Mia for ideas.”
I’ll admit it—I was impressed. Roses and a tailored gift on the first date? This guy was either really into me, or he was a master of first impressions.
“This is incredibly thoughtful. Thank you,” I said sincerely.
Eric kept the gentleman act going flawlessly. He opened the restaurant door for me, pulled out my chair, and maintained warm, attentive eye contact throughout the evening.
He asked me thoughtful questions about my work as a graphic designer, remembered random things I’d mentioned in texts, and somehow made me feel like I was the only person in the world.
“So, what convinced you to say yes to this blind date?” he asked once we’d ordered our meals.
“Mia can be pretty persistent,” I said with a laugh. “Plus, both she and Chris vouched for you—and that doesn’t happen often.”
“They make a great team,” he nodded. “Chris and I go all the way back to our college days. He’s always been solid.”
We transitioned easily into light banter and deeper conversation.
We bonded over our mutual obsession with true crime podcasts and bizarre documentary series.
He shared some funny moments from his work as a marketing manager, and I found myself thinking this might be the best first date I’d ever been on.
When the bill arrived, I instinctively reached for my purse.
“Absolutely not,” Eric said firmly, slapping his card onto the check before I could even unzip my bag. “First date’s on the man.”
His tone startled me. It wasn’t just polite—it was final, like he was quoting some sacred rulebook.
I hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “Alright. Thank you.”
No way was I going to argue over dinner, especially after such a wonderful time. As we walked out, he asked if he could call me again soon.
“I’d really like that,” I told him—and I truly meant it.
He hugged me goodbye—just the right blend of respectful and interested. I drove home with a grin, thinking I’d just been on the best first date of my life.
The next morning, I rolled out of bed to a notification from Eric. Still groggy, I assumed it’d be a sweet follow-up message. Maybe even a picture from the evening.
I made a cup of coffee and climbed back under the covers, opening his message with curiosity.
What popped up was not a selfie. It was an invoice. A formal, itemized invoice.
At the top, in a sharp, professional font:
Date Night Invoice — Outstanding Balance: 1 Payment Due
Below that, a full list of “services” and what was apparently expected in return.
At first, I thought it was a quirky joke. But the more I read, the more nauseated I became.
Here’s what he had written:
- Roses: 1 hug
- Customized Keychain: 1 coffee date within a week
- Car Door Assistance: A selfie together
- Chair Pull-Out: Holding hands next time
- Engaging Conversation and Attentive Listening: One compliment about his appearance
- Full Dinner + Tip: A guaranteed second date, no exceptions
But the most outrageous part was at the bottom in bold text:
Payment is expected in full. No refunds. Failure to comply may lead to outstanding balance being forwarded to collections (aka, Chris will find out). Awaiting your timely response!
My jaw literally dropped.
It would’ve been one thing if he’d asked for money—creepy, but somewhat understandable. But this? Expecting physical affection and attention in return for a meal and flowers?
I immediately took a screenshot and sent it to Mia.
Her reply was immediate:
“OH. MY. GOD. I’M SENDING THIS TO CHRIS RIGHT NOW.”
“Is this actually happening???” I texted back. “This guy is DEAD serious.”
“Chris is going to flip,” she responded.
Just five minutes later, Chris called me directly, barely able to breathe between fits of laughter.
“Kelly, what the hell?! I’ve known Eric for years, and I never would’ve imagined this level of crazy,” he wheezed.
“So… this isn’t some inside joke?” I asked cautiously.
“No way,” Chris replied. “He’s always been… intense about dating, but this? This is a whole new level. Okay, we need to hit him back.”
Chris, bless his heart, was the king of creative revenge.
Instead of roasting Eric in their group chat, he planned something more… poetic.
“I’m crafting a mirror invoice,” he told me. “Same layout, same tone—just ten times pettier.”
An hour later, I got his masterpiece.
Service Invoice — Amount Due: A Lifetime of Silence
- Introducing You to a Beautiful Woman: One permanent block on all platforms
- Convincing Her You Were a Gentleman: An emotional reckoning on why you’re single
- Letting You Sit Across from Her: A handwritten apology to every woman you’ve dated
- Choosing Not to Blast You Online: A generous act of grace you don’t deserve
Payment due immediately. Failure to comply will result in public humiliation. Best of luck!
“This is perfection,” I replied. “Send it.”
“Done,” Chris responded with a vengeance.
Soon after, my phone blew up with angry messages from Eric:
- “Wow, real mature.”
- “I was just trying to communicate expectations.”
- “Chris isn’t a real friend.”
- “You just lost a GOOD man.”
I didn’t bother replying. There’s no reasoning with someone who treats emotional connection like a transaction. I sent a single thumbs-up emoji and blocked him.
That evening, Mia called me, still laughing so hard she could barely speak.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I truly thought he was normal! Chris had no clue either.”
“Don’t worry,” I told her, laughing too. “At least we got an epic story out of it.”
“Facts,” she agreed. “This will be retold at every party until the end of time.”
That experience taught me one golden dating rule: If a man insists on paying the bill, double-check that he’s not going to invoice you for it later.
And the keychain? I kept it. Not as a memento of Eric—but as a hilarious keepsake from the most absurd date of my life.