I had never thought I’d find myself blocking someone after having such a delightful dinner, yet there I was, staring at my phone, uncertain and unsettled. It only took one fleeting moment, one casual comment, to make everything feel wrong.

Life had been busy, filled with work and commitments, leaving little time for dating. I always told myself that once things calmed down, I’d put myself out there. But life rarely works like that, it never actually slows down.

A woman standing on a busy road at night | Source

So, when Hayden, a guy I met at a friend’s dinner party, asked me out, I thought it was time to step outside my usual routine.

Hayden was charming in a natural way. He exuded a calm and welcoming demeanor that made me feel comfortable being myself. He wasn’t trying too hard to dazzle me, and I appreciated that.

We had talked for what seemed like hours at the party, sharing thoughts about everything from work to childhood memories. I learned he was a teacher, which is quite telling of one’s character.

Teaching is no easy feat; it requires patience, tenacity, and a good sense of humor. Hayden seemed to possess all of these traits effortlessly.

“Would you like to grab dinner with me sometime?” Hayden’s grin suggested he was hopeful for a positive response.

Typically, I wouldn’t rush to say yes, but his warm smile made me agree. “Sure, dinner sounds nice,” I replied.

As the date approached, amid my bustling schedule, thoughts of Hayden lingered in my mind. Would we have the same chemistry outside a friendly gathering? When the day finally arrived, I was both anxious and excited.

When he asked where I’d like to dine, I suggested keeping it simple. I wasn’t one for extravagant dates; simplicity often speaks volumes.

“There’s a cozy little Mexican place I adore,” I mentioned, fondly recalling the downtown spot with great food and an unpretentious ambiance.

Yet, Hayden had bigger plans. When he asked for my favorite restaurant, I inadvertently named a fine-dining Italian venue I rarely visited due to its cost, saving it for special occasions. I didn’t expect him to take it seriously.

However, to my surprise, he did. “Let’s go there,” was his quick reply. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”

I hesitated but ultimately agreed, not wanting him to think I expected him to spend lavishly, especially for a first date. “Are you sure? It’s quite pricey,” I cautioned.

But he reassured me that he didn’t mind the splurge, wanting the experience. It was just dinner, after all.

On that Friday night, I stood before my mirror, ensuring everything was perfect. Choosing a simple black dress, I aimed for elegance without excess.

I didn’t want to seem ostentatious, knowing Hayden preferred genuine over pretentious. Yet, I wanted to look nice. I liked him; I wouldn’t deny that.

Right on time, Hayden arrived. In a crisp shirt and dark jeans, he looked perfectly put together, his warm smile immediately putting me at ease.

“You look amazing, Asta,” he said, his gaze sincere and lingering just enough to make me blush.

“Thanks, Hayden,” I replied, slightly flustered. “You look nice too.”

The restaurant, a short drive away, was everything he’d imagined. His eyes widened with appreciation at the decor and lighting.

“This place is fantastic,” he observed, perusing the menu enthusiastically. “I’m glad you suggested it.”

I chuckled softly, feeling a touch of anxiety. “It’s one of my favorites, but not someplace I frequent often — it’s a special occasion type of place.”

From appetizers, truffle fries, to stories about teaching, the conversation flowed just as easily as it had at the party. Hayden vividly recounted tales of his students, his enthusiasm painting a clear picture of his passion.

I laughed, imagining his anecdotes. “I’ve dealt with my fair share of chaos bartending, but I can’t imagine handling a classroom full of kids like that!”

Hayden shrugged it off with a smile. “It’s challenging, but rewarding too. They keep me innovative, and I enjoy it.”

Admiring his dedication, the evening felt comfortable and easy. We ordered more: steak for him, pasta for me, and a bottle of wine whose exquisite name escaped me. The night seemed perfect.

“Asta, tell me about yourself,” Hayden inquired, sipping his wine. “How did you become a bartender?”

I briefly hesitated; my journey wasn’t straightforward.

“Well,” I started, “I studied psychology but never felt drawn to a specific career. Bartending was supposed to be temporary, yet here I am, a decade later.”

Hayden listened intently. “You must encounter some fascinating people.”

“You wouldn’t believe; truth flows freely after a few drinks,” I responded with a grin.

The conversation took deeper turns, with Hayden probing about my aspirations and past. I appreciated his genuine interest beyond the superficial.

By dessert, the date felt like a success; we shared a laugh over a shared tiramisu. I was hopeful, yet a new tension awaited: the bill.

The hefty total of over $500 loomed, stirring an unease.

I didn’t want Hayden burdened with the entire cost. “We should split this,” I suggested, reaching for my bag. “It’s a lot for one person,” I insisted.

Hayden paused, seeming surprised. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s share it,” I affirmed. “It’s no bother.”

As we laid our cards on the table, the server approached. But then Hayden abruptly grabbed mine, studying it longer than warranted.

“I got it,” he declared with a satisfied smile. “Now I know your last name,” he added.

His words, seemingly innocuous, sent a chill through me. It was a small detail — knowing my surname — but the suggestive tone unsettled me.

“It’s nothing, really,” I laughed lightly, trying to downplay the discomfort.

Yet, internally, I felt uneasy.

Despite Hayden’s courtesy throughout, that minor intrusion lingered. It seemed trivial, almost irrational, but it persisted.

Outside, he offered a ride home. I declined, choosing to walk. “Are you certain?” Hayden inquired, appearing let down.

“Yes, thank you for the evening. I had a lovely time,” I assured him.

“So did I. Let’s plan to see each other again,” he suggested warmly.

I smiled, but it was a forced one. “Perhaps,” I replied noncommittally.

Taking a taxi home, the evening replayed in my mind. Hayden wasn’t bad: he was kind, the date enjoyable. But that moment gnawed at me — felt invasive. Maybe it was the insistence on paying or the upscale dining despite my preference for simplicity.

Perhaps it was that smirk upon learning my last name. Everything seemed like a test, checking if I’d split the bill or leave him with the $500 tab, perhaps labeling me “opportunistic.”

Unsettled, I blocked him. No explanation or farewell — I needed closure.

Some friends deemed me dramatic. “He might’ve been joking! He covered a $500 dinner!” one insisted.

But it wasn’t about monetary obligations. It concerned boundaries, feeling crossed inadvertently. I mightn’t have been overtly harmed, but discomfort remains valid.

Reflecting, I harbor no regrets. I trusted my instincts, safeguarding my comfort, my boundaries, even amid labels of overreaction.

Perhaps, someday, I’ll meet Hayden again — maybe explain my stance, or perhaps not. Right now, I’m at peace with my choice.

Future dates will be low-key, ensuring mutual comfort.