When Lucas insisted on paying for our first date, I thought I’d found a true gentleman. Roses, a thoughtful gift, effortless charm—he seemed perfect. So when his text arrived the next day, I expected butterflies. Instead, my stomach dropped the moment I read it.
When my best friend, Tessa, suggested setting me up on a date, I honestly didn’t think much of it. She’s the type who means well but has never been a matchmaker in her life. If I’m being completely honest, I wasn’t exactly desperate for a date anyway. But Tessa was relentless.
“He’s wonderful, Julia. A total gentleman. You’re going to thank me later,” she said over the phone one Thursday evening while I stood in front of my closet, pulling hangers left and right in frustration.
“You’ve never set me up before,” I reminded her, clutching a navy dress and giving it a doubtful look in the mirror. “What makes you think you even know my type?”
“Because I’ve known you since we were thirteen,” she shot back confidently. “And besides, Owen swears by him. They’ve been friends forever.”
That gave me pause. Tessa’s boyfriend, Owen, had a good head on his shoulders. If he said this guy—his friend, Lucas was solid, then maybe there was a glimmer of potential. Owen wasn’t one to endorse people lightly.
“Fine,” I sighed, half to her and half to myself. “But at least show me a picture so I know I’m not walking into a disaster.”
Seconds later, my phone buzzed with an incoming photo.
Lucas was… well, handsome. He had that clean-cut, approachable look—short dark hair, neat stubble, and a smile that reached his eyes. Not movie-star striking, but undeniably attractive in that dependable, steady kind of way.
“Okay,” I admitted reluctantly, “he’s cute.”
“Told you!” Tessa squealed like she had already won. “Text him. Set it up. You won’t regret it.”
Against my usual cautious instincts, I did. After a few lighthearted exchanges, we agreed to meet at a new Italian restaurant downtown that overlooked the river. Not stuffy or overly romantic, but nice enough to feel intentional.
I arrived five minutes early, because I can never bring myself to be fashionably late. Standing near the entrance, I checked my reflection in my phone camera one last time, brushing away a strand of hair that refused to cooperate. That’s when I spotted him coming down the sidewalk.
The photo hadn’t lied—he looked good. Tall, confident stride, that same warm smile lighting up his face. But what caught me completely off guard was the bouquet of roses in his hand.
Not grocery store flowers either. These were arranged with care, wrapped in paper, tied with a satin ribbon. My pulse quickened.
“You must be Julia,” he said, handing the bouquet to me with a flourish. “These are for you.”
I blinked, genuinely surprised. “Wow, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Figured I’d start the night off right,” he said easily. And before I could fully process the gesture, he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small gift box tied with a bright teal bow.
“What’s this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just a little something,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “Go ahead—open it.”
Inside was a sleek silver keychain, polished and engraved with the letter J. Simple, elegant, and—oddly enough—personal.
“I asked Tessa what you might like,” Lucas explained, watching me closely.
I was impressed. A bouquet and a personalized gift? Either he was truly interested or he had a degree in making first impressions.
“This is really thoughtful,” I admitted. “Thank you.”
He smiled, clearly satisfied, and offered me his arm as we headed inside.
From the start, he leaned into every “gentlemanly” gesture: pulling out my chair, holding the door, maintaining attentive eye contact. He asked thoughtful questions about my job as a graphic designer, remembered tiny details I’d mentioned in our texts, and laughed easily at my stories.
“So what made you agree to this setup?” he asked as we sipped wine.
“Mmm, Tessa can be pretty persuasive,” I said with a laugh. “And since both she and Owen vouched for you, I figured it was worth a shot.”
“They’re a great couple,” he nodded. “Owen and I go back to college. He’s one of the good ones.”
The conversation flowed effortlessly. We bonded over a shared love of true crime podcasts and quirky documentaries. He told me stories from his job in marketing that were equal parts stressful and hilarious. I found myself relaxing, genuinely enjoying his company.
By the time our plates were cleared, I was already thinking this might be one of the better first dates I’d ever been on.
When the check arrived, I instinctively reached for my purse.
But Lucas was faster. He slipped his card into the folder and set it down before I even unzipped my bag.
“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “A man pays on the first date.”
His tone startled me. It wasn’t lighthearted or playful—it was final. Almost like a rule carved in stone.
I hesitated, then decided not to push it. “Okay, if you insist. Thank you.”
He smiled as if he’d won a small victory.
Outside, he walked me to my car and asked if he could call me again.
“I’d like that,” I said honestly.
He hugged me goodbye—friendly but with a spark of interest—and I drove home feeling cautiously optimistic. Roses, thoughtful conversation, a goodnight hug that didn’t overstep… it all felt refreshingly different.
The next morning, I woke to a notification from him. My sleepy brain assumed it was one of those sweet “had a great time last night” texts.
Instead, it was an email attachment.
Curious, I made coffee and climbed back into bed before opening it.
And then I nearly choked on my drink.
It was… an invoice.
A real, professionally formatted invoice.
At the top, in bold font:
Date Night Invoice – Amount Due: 1 Outstanding Balance.
Beneath it was a breakdown of “services rendered.”
I stared in disbelief as I read each line:
Bouquet of Roses: 1 hug
Custom Keychain Gift: 1 coffee date (scheduled within one week)
Opening Car Door: A cute selfie together
Pulling Out Chair: Holding hands on the next date
Engaging Conversation & Active Listening: A compliment about my looks
Full Dinner + Tip Covered: A second date, no excuses
And then, the kicker:
Payment is expected in full. No refunds. Failure to comply may result in balance being sent to collections (Owen will hear about it). Looking forward to your prompt payment!
My jaw actually dropped.
Was this a joke? Some bizarre attempt at humor? The professional formatting made it look alarmingly legitimate.
I immediately screenshotted the invoice and sent it to Tessa.
Her reply came in seconds.
“OH. MY. GOD. I’M SHOWING THIS TO OWEN RIGHT NOW.”
“Is this real life??” I typed back. “He’s actually serious?”
“Wait until Owen sees this. He’s going to lose it.”
Five minutes later, my phone rang. It was Owen, practically in tears from laughing.
“Julia, I cannot believe this. Lucas sent you an invoice? An actual invoice?”
“So you’ve never seen him pull this before?” I asked.
“Never!” Owen said, still wheezing. “I mean, he’s always been… intense about dating. Like, weirdly structured about it. But this? This is next level.”
Then his tone shifted mischievous. “Okay, we have to get him back.”
Owen, as it turned out, was the reigning king of petty comebacks.
“I’m making my own invoice,” he declared. “Same format. Same fake legal tone. But this time, he’s the one paying up.”
An hour later, he sent me his masterpiece.
Service Invoice – Amount Due: A Lifetime of Silence
Introducing You to a Gorgeous Woman: 1 permanent block on all platforms
Convincing Her You Were a Gentleman: A deep, personal reflection on why you’re still single
Letting You Sit at the Same Table as Her: A formal apology to every woman you’ve ever dated
Not Exposing You to the Entire Internet: A priceless gift you should be eternally grateful for
Payment due immediately. Failure to comply may result in public humiliation. Cheers!
I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes.
“This is perfect,” I texted him. “Send it.”
“Done,” he replied.
Sure enough, not long after, my phone lit up with angry texts from Lucas.
“Wow. Real mature.”
“I was just trying to set expectations—not everyone is rich.”
“Owen is a terrible friend.”
“You just missed out on a GREAT guy.”
I stared at the screen, dumbfounded. Was he serious? Did he really think affection and attention could be billed like utilities?
Instead of engaging, I simply sent back a thumbs-up emoji and hit “block.”
Later that night, Tessa called, still giggling every time she brought it up.
“I’m so sorry, Jules. I swear, I thought he was normal. Even Owen had no idea he was like this.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her honestly. “If nothing else, we all got an unforgettable story out of it.”
“True,” she said, already laughing again. “I’m telling you now, this story is going to be repeated at every party for the next ten years.”
She was probably right.
Looking back, I realized I’d walked away with an important rule for dating:
If a man insists on paying the bill, make sure he’s not planning to invoice you for it later.
As for the silver keychain? I kept it. Not as a reminder of Lucas, but as a hilarious little souvenir from the strangest, most ridiculous date of my life.
