None of those things should feel extraordinary.
Yet somehow they did.
When dessert arrived, we laughed about childhood memories.
Favorite teachers.
Embarrassing first jobs.
Vacation disasters.
Time passed so naturally that neither of us noticed the restaurant beginning to empty.
Eventually the waiter placed the check on the table.
Without thinking, I reached for my purse.
Daniel gently shook his head.
“Absolutely not.”
He placed his credit card on the folder before I could protest.
“A man pays on the first date.”
I smiled politely.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“I want to.”
His tone wasn’t controlling.
It wasn’t performative.
It simply sounded like something he believed.
I thanked him.
He insisted it was his pleasure.
Outside the restaurant, we stood talking another twenty minutes.
The city lights reflected off rain-soaked sidewalks.
Neither of us seemed eager to leave.
Finally he asked,
“Would you like to do this again?”
“I’d like that.”
He smiled.
“So would I.”
Driving home, I caught myself grinning.
Jenna immediately called.
“So?”
I laughed.
“You were right.”
“He was wonderful.”
“I knew it.”
We spent nearly an hour discussing every detail.
The flowers.
Dinner.
Conversation.
His kindness.
His manners.
For the first time in years…
I genuinely looked forward to seeing someone again.
The next morning, my phone buzzed just after eight.
A message from Daniel.
I smiled before opening it.
I expected something sweet.
Maybe,
“I had a wonderful time.”
Or,
“I’d love to see you again.”
Instead, I read:
Good morning. I enjoyed last night. I calculated my expenses for the evening, and since relationships should always be equal, I’d appreciate it if you could send me $68.42 for your half of dinner. Flowers were my gift, so I’m not including those. My payment information is below.
I stared at the screen.
Certain I had misunderstood.
I read it again.
Then a third time.
No.
That really was what he’d written.
Confused, I replied carefully.
“I thought you wanted to pay.”
