At first, Eric seemed like a rom-com lead—thoughtful texts, fresh roses, perfect manners. Our dinner was fun and easy: we laughed about podcasts, debated fridge etiquette, and he even gave me a “good luck” keychain. I thought I’d met someone genuine.
The next morning, he sent a PDF that made my jaw drop—an itemized invoice for our date. Roses? Worth a kiss. Holding the door? A selfie. Dinner? “Payable via second date.” At the bottom: “Payment due in full. No refunds.”
I forwarded it to my best friend Mia, who introduced us. Her boyfriend Chris responded with a parody invoice—fees for “emotional distress,” “performative gallantry,” and “delusional entitlement.” We sent it back. Eric wasn’t amused. He called me immature and “too modern to appreciate effort.” I blocked him.
Mia felt guilty, but I didn’t. If kindness is treated like currency, that’s not romance—it’s a transaction. That night reminded me to trust my gut, laugh off nonsense, and protect my boundaries. Eric came with a ledger; I left with a story—and the satisfaction of a well-earned roast.
