My Date Paid for Dinner, Then Everything Took a Dark Turn!

I only agreed to the blind date because Mia wouldn’t let it go. Every coffee break, every late-night text, she insisted that Chris’s friend Eric was “different,” that he was polite, romantic, and nothing like the disasters I’d dated before. Worn down by her confidence, I finally said yes—more to reclaim my peace than out of hope.

To my surprise, Eric seemed to prove her right. He arrived ten minutes early, dressed neatly, holding a bouquet of red roses that made nearby diners glance over. He opened doors, pulled out my chair, and listened closely as I spoke. When the food arrived, he asked thoughtful questions and laughed easily. Before we parted, he handed me a small engraved keychain, smiling as though it carried meaning. For the first time in a long while, I went home thinking maybe I’d misjudged blind dates—and men.

The next morning, my phone buzzed with a new email.

The subject line read: *Follow-Up.*

Inside was something I never expected: an itemized invoice.

Dinner was listed first, followed by the cost of the roses. Beneath that, he had written that the flowers warranted a hug, which I had “yet to provide.” The keychain, according to Eric, required repayment in the form of a second date. Then came a line about “emotional labor,” where he claimed additional affection would help balance his investment. Each sentence grew colder than the last.

At the bottom, he added a final note: *Failure to comply may result in Chris hearing about it.*

My hands shook as I reread the email. The charm, the manners, the generosity—they hadn’t been kindness at all. They were transactions. Carefully calculated, quietly threatening.

I forwarded the email to Mia without a word. Then I deleted Eric’s number.

That night taught me something important: sometimes the most dangerous red flags come wrapped in roses.