I went on a date thinking I’d finally met someone who had it together. He ordered the fanciest things on the menu, talked about his love for fine dining, and flashed stories about weekend trips to Milan. I thought, “This one is a catch.”

Then the bill came. He suggested we split it. I didn’t show how bothered I was, but minutes after we parted ways, my phone buzzed.

“Hey! I just noticed you still owe me $3.75 for your half,” he said flatly.

At first, I laughed, waiting for him to say “Just kidding.” But his voice stayed serious. He had gone back through the receipt and realized the coffee refill I’d had wasn’t included in our split.

I was stunned but said, “Sure, I’ll send it.” I did—not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t want him texting me again. Continues…