When my brother Marcus insisted he knew “the perfect guy” for me, I was skeptical. His last setup had been a spoon collector who wore socks with sandals. Still, Marcus swore Andy was polite, intelligent, and mysteriously single. Tired of his questions about my love life, I agreed to one date.
Andy actually surprised me. He arrived with wildflowers, opened doors, and made me laugh over dinner. He listened when I spoke and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me. For the first time in years, I felt seen instead of evaluated.
When he offered to drive me home, I hesitated. I normally take an Uber on a first date, but Andy seemed trustworthy. He dropped me off, waited until I entered my building, and waved before driving away. That night, I smiled at myself in the mirror. Maybe Marcus had finally gotten one right.
At exactly 7:13 the next morning, my phone buzzed. It was a PayPal request from Andy. $37.25. I assumed it was a mistake. Then I opened the invoice: gas, parking, car depreciation, and—unbelievably—a “cleaning fee” for puddle splash marks.
I stared at the screen for several seconds before bursting out laughing. Apparently, romance had an itemized price list. I sent him $50 with the note: “$13 tip for opening the doors. Cheers.” Then I blocked him.
Marcus was horrified when I showed him, although he couldn’t stop laughing. But the story didn’t end there. Andy had apparently been bragging to his pickleball friends about our “rom-com” date, describing himself as the perfect gentleman.
Marcus sent the screenshots to the group. The laughter was immediate, and Andy’s reputation collapsed. Then, a few weeks later, I saw a TikTok from another woman who had gone on a date with Andy. She showed an invoice nearly identical to mine.
I saved the video, sent it to Marcus, and laughed until my stomach hurt. I never found my perfect guy that night—but I did find a great story, a hilarious brother, and a valuable reminder: when someone sends you a bill for romance, always remember to tip yourself by walking away.