When Eric insisted on covering the cost of our first date, I thought I had found a true gentleman. He showed up with a bouquet of roses, a thoughtful little gift, and engaging conversation that flowed effortlessly. It felt like a scene straight out of a romantic comedy, and I could almost hear my best friend, Mia, smugly saying, “I told you so,” since she had set this up.

I had my reservations when she first suggested it. “Come on, Kelly, just trust me. Eric is such a gentleman. You’ll love him,” she had said excitedly over the phone while I rummaged through my closet, trying to pick an outfit.

“You’ve never set me up before,” I pointed out. “What makes you think you know my type?”

Mia was undeterred. “Because I know you better than anyone! Plus, Chris thinks he’s great. They’ve been friends for years.”

That gave me pause. Chris, Mia’s boyfriend, had a knack for reading people. He wouldn’t hype someone up unless he genuinely believed in them. If he thought Eric was worth a shot, maybe I should give it a try.

“Fine,” I sighed. “At least send me a picture.”

Seconds later, my phone pinged. I opened the message and scanned the image with curiosity. Eric looked just like his photo—clean-cut, well-dressed, and sporting a warm smile. Not bad at all.

“Okay,” I admitted. “He’s cute.”

Mia squealed in delight. “Text him! Set it up! You won’t regret it.”

After exchanging a few casual messages, I agreed to meet Eric for dinner at a new Italian restaurant by the river—fancy but not overly intimidating. The kind of place where first dates could either be a romantic success or an awkward disaster.

I arrived five minutes early, nervously checking my reflection in my phone camera as I waited near the entrance. That’s when I spotted him. My heart raced a little. He looked just as good in person—attractive in a polished, business-casual way. But what surprised me was the bouquet of roses he held.

These weren’t cheap grocery store flowers; they were from a florist, tied with a ribbon.

“You must be Kelly,” he said, flashing that same warm smile. “These are for you.”

“Wow, thank you,” I replied, pleasantly surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I thought I’d start the night off right,” he said smoothly.

But that wasn’t all.

From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small gift box tied with a neat cyan bow.

“What’s this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just a little something. Open it,” he encouraged.

Inside was a sleek silver keychain with the letter “K” engraved on it. Subtle, personalized, and genuinely thoughtful.

“I asked Mia what you might like,” he added.

At this point, I was impressed. Flowers and a gift on a first date? He was either incredibly thoughtful or a master of first impressions. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.

“This is really nice of you,” I said sincerely. “Thank you.”

Eric continued his gentlemanly demeanor throughout the evening. He pulled out my chair, maintained eye contact, and listened intently as I talked about my work as a graphic designer. He even remembered little details from our texts—my favorite books, my weekend hobbies, and even a casual comment I had made about my brother’s dog.

“So, what made you agree to this setup?” he asked after we placed our orders.

“Mia can be very persuasive,” I laughed. “And Chris vouched for you, which is rare.”

“Chris and I go way back,” Eric said. “We met in college. He’s always been a stand-up guy.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly from there. We discovered a shared interest in true crime podcasts and a fascination with documentaries about unusual subcultures. He shared amusing stories about his job as a marketing manager, and I found myself thinking this might be the best first date I’d ever had.

Then the check arrived.

I instinctively reached for my purse.

“Absolutely not,” Eric said firmly, placing his card down before I could even unzip my bag. “A man always pays on the first date.”

His tone surprised me. It wasn’t just polite; it felt like an unbreakable rule.

I hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, if you insist. Thank you.”

As we walked out together, he asked if he could call me soon.

“I’d like that,” I replied—and I genuinely meant it.

He gave me a friendly yet interested hug, and I drove home thinking that this was one of the most amazing first dates I’d ever experienced.

Then came the text message.

The next morning, I woke up to a notification from Eric. My sleepy brain expected something sweet like, “Had a great time last night.” Instead, there was an attachment.