Mia, my closest friend, had good intentions when she arranged a date for me, but her skills in matchmaking were unproven.
“Kelly, he’s an awesome person!” “You’ll adore him,” she emphasized.
“You’ve never arranged anything for me before.” “What leads you to believe you understand my type?” I responded.
“Since I understand you more than anyone else,” she remarked. “Chris also supports him.”
That made me stop and think. If Chris believed he was capable, perhaps there was a chance. “Alright, let me see a picture,” I responded.
The man in the picture looked decent—neat, stylishly dressed, and beaming kindly.
“Alright, he’s attractive,” I conceded.
After exchanging a few messages, I consented to have dinner with Eric at an Italian eatery by the river. I got there ahead of time, anxiously adjusting my look as I saw him coming with a bunch of roses.
“You must be Kelly,” he remarked, offering me the flowers. “These belong to you.”
I was astonished. “You weren’t required to do that.”
“I aimed to begin the evening in a good way,” he mentioned, and then gave me a little gift box containing a keychain inscribed with a “K.”
“Something made especially for you,” he stated. “I inquired with Mia about your preferences.”
I was truly amazed. Blooms and a customized present for the initial date? Either he was genuine, or an expert at first impressions.
During the dinner, he was delightful—posing insightful questions and maintaining the dialogue. When the bill arrived, he insisted on covering the cost.
“Alright, if you really want to.” “Thanks.”
Later, he inquired whether he could phone me again. I was sincerely intrigued.
The following morning, I got a message from Eric, but it wasn’t a nice “had a wonderful time” text. It was a bill.
The itemized charges featured a bouquet of roses, door openings, lively conversation, and additional services—each associated with a specific request for love or future consideration.
