I’ll never forget the night I went on my first date with Eric. From the moment he insisted on covering the bill, I thought I had stumbled upon a true gentleman. He showed up right on time, standing there with a bouquet of fresh roses, not the kind you grab last minute at the grocery store, but the kind carefully arranged by a florist, tied with a delicate ribbon. He even brought a little gift—a small box wrapped with a neat cyan bow. As he handed me the flowers, his warm smile made me feel like I was in one of those romantic comedies my best friend Mia and I used to watch during college. I could already hear Mia’s voice ringing in my ears, “I told you so.” After all, she was the one who had set this up.

Truthfully, I had my doubts when Mia first brought up the idea of setting me up. “Come on, Kelly,” she’d said over the phone, excitement bubbling in her voice. “Eric is a total gentleman. You’ll love him.” As I stood in front of my closet debating what to wear, I sighed and said, “You’ve never played matchmaker before. How do you know this guy’s my type?” But Mia didn’t waver. “Because I know you better than anyone,” she replied. “And besides, Chris thinks he’s great. They’ve been close for years.” That stopped me. Chris, Mia’s boyfriend, had a pretty solid reputation for reading people well. If he gave Eric the stamp of approval, I figured maybe it was worth a shot.

“Fine,” I finally relented. “Send me a photo at least.” A second later, my phone buzzed. I opened the message to find a photo of Eric—clean-cut, well-groomed, and with a smile that seemed genuine. “Okay,” I admitted, “he’s cute.” Mia practically squealed. “I knew you’d say that! Text him, set up the date! You won’t regret it.”

After exchanging a few casual texts, we decided on dinner at a new Italian spot by the river. It was a nice place—upscale enough to feel special, but not so fancy it was intimidating. I arrived a little early and stood near the entrance, sneaking peeks at my reflection in my phone camera, making sure I didn’t have lipstick on my teeth. That’s when I saw him walking toward me. My heart gave a little skip. He looked even better in person—tall, polished, but approachable. And he was holding those roses. “You must be Kelly,” he said as he handed me the flowers. “These are for you.”

I was touched. “Wow, thank you! That’s really sweet.” He gave me that confident smile again. “I figured it was a good way to start the night.” Then he surprised me again. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a tiny gift box and handed it to me. “Just something small,” he said. I opened it to find a silver keychain with a K engraved on it—simple, thoughtful, and personal. “Mia told me you might like it,” he added. Honestly, I was impressed. A guy bringing flowers and a personalized gift on a first date? Either he was incredibly thoughtful or really knew how to make a good impression. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.

Throughout dinner, Eric continued his charming streak. He pulled out my chair, kept steady eye contact, and asked questions about my job as a graphic designer. He listened closely when I told stories, even remembering small details I’d mentioned over text. He asked about my favorite books, my weekend hikes, and even brought up my brother’s dog I had casually mentioned. “So, what made you say yes to this setup?” he asked once we’d ordered. I laughed. “Mia’s very persuasive. And Chris vouched for you—that’s a big deal.” Eric smiled. “Chris and I go way back. College days.” We found common ground quickly—talking about true crime podcasts, bizarre documentaries, and swapping funny stories from our jobs. I kept thinking, this might actually be the best first date I’ve ever had.

Then the check came. Without missing a beat, I reached for my purse. But Eric put his hand out firmly and slid his card onto the check tray before I could even react. “A man always pays on the first date,” he said, like it was a rule etched in stone. His tone caught me a little off guard. It was polite but rigid. I paused for a second, then shrugged. “Okay. Thank you.”

As we left the restaurant, he asked if he could call me soon. “I’d like that,” I said honestly. He gave me a warm hug, and I drove home thinking it was one of the nicest dates I’d ever been on. But the next morning, everything shifted. My phone buzzed with a message from Eric. Half-asleep, I expected something sweet like, “I had a great time last night.” Instead, there was an attachment. Curious, I opened it. It was an itemized receipt from dinner, along with a note: “Just so you know what I spent.” My stomach dropped. Suddenly, all those thoughtful gestures felt transactional. I stared at my phone, wishing I hadn’t let him pay. Wishing I’d trusted my instincts instead of getting caught up in a perfect evening.