Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Mister Cheap Pants

I'd say I'm getting pretty good at this first date thing. I've found my confidence, I don't secretly have my fingers, toes & eyes crossed Mr. New Guy turns into Mr. Gonna Put a Ring on It & my conversation skills are in tip top shape!

When it comes to first dates I fall into the category of women who take the traditional approach. Such as: the guy asks you out, the guy picks the place or gives you a choice, I'm talking two, one or the other, he's on time, or if he's pulling out the big guns he's early & has saved you a seat, oh he pays, with special emphasis on that last bit. Let me play out for you how it should go:

The check comes. The guy takes the black folder with said bill, looks it over & pulls out his preferred method of payment.1-2-3, you graciously thank him. The End. 

This is what happened to me...

I arrived at the restaurant before my date, Mr. Cheap Pants. The name says it all but there's laughing to do & I figure we should do it together. I pick a table, order a drink & wait for him. Keep in mind that he lives much closer than I do to our lunch spot and still managed to be at least five minutes behind me. Impressed I was not. He arrives, gets a beer, we look over the menu, place our orders, insert an array of first date appropriate topics & before you know it we're coming to the end of what has been a good time.

The check comes. He grabs the black folder, looks over the bill & this is where things take a detour. He says, I need a couple of dollars. I'm thinking, Danger, Will Robinson, Danger! But I keep it together, sure no problem. What's a couple dollars, right? Two, right? A couple is two. No big deal. Except in a blink of an eye the waitress is walking off with my debit card and this sorry motherfucker is sliding me $8. Oh, he's saying something about going to the ATM to give me the rest of what he owes me. I'm confused & it sounds more like wah-wah-wah-wah-wah, because he had a debit card in one hand, cash in the other and my ass just payed for our lunch.

In a few short steps we're at a grocery store, he buys some candy, gets some money & hands me four more dollars. Four. That makes for a grand total of, drum roll please...$12. I bet your wondering how much lunch cost, it was $30. I just went dutch. Actually I was just jipped $3. I speed walk to my car, we part ways & I  begin to replay the shenanigans that just took place. Mr. Cheap Pants wastes no time at all texting me and I quote: "I really enjoyed my time with you" *smiley face* Twice! Why twice? Because how do you say I think you're a cheap bastard, nicely? Except on text number three he made it easy for me, when he goes:  "I hope I didn't offend you with how we paid for lunch?" *sad face* My response. Two Words: I'm offended. 
I except to be asked out. I expect to be treated nicely. I except the man to pay. This is a zero tolerance policy.

XO, Miss BB 


  1. I am trying to think of a way you could have politely declined pitching in. Ugh! Sorry you dealt with this!!

  2. I talked about with my bestie and decided next time I'm running! In the vain of I'm going to use the restroom be back never, SUCKA!

  3. Eugh, that sounds terrible! If he had given you $10 it would have been bad enough - But $8 meant he needed to count out those one dollar bills - Or god forbid, quarters and dimes

  4. And let's not even talk about how he gave me $4 after "getting" some additional funds, geez!

  5. I like your blog, good post, thanks for sharing. Cheap Pants