I can still vividly recall the moment I matched with Aaron. His handsome face appeared on my screen, accompanied by that exhilarating “It’s a Match!” banner, and just like that, I was completely captivated.
Aaron was undeniably stunning—broad shoulders, a clean-cut beard, and eyes that sparkled like warm honey drizzling over fresh bread. His profile exuded confidence, and his bio caught my attention: “Looking for something real. Lover of books, coffee, and bad puns.” A man who appreciates a good pun? Immediate bonus points in my book.
But what truly drew me in were his messages. They were thoughtful and engaging, far beyond the typical “Hey, how’s your day?” fluff that often fills dating apps. Aaron remembered details from our conversations, asking about the books I was reading and following up on random anecdotes I had shared. He had a way of making even the most mundane topics feel interesting and alive.
One evening, during a lighthearted discussion about childhood nostalgia, I casually mentioned that my favorite story growing up was Beauty and the Beast. Instead of the usual dismissive response, Aaron surprised me with his enthusiasm.
“No way, that was my favorite too! Though I have to admit, I’ve only seen the Disney version,” he said with a grin.
I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt. “That counts!” I replied, feeling a delightful connection forming.
“Exactly,” he shot back, his eyes twinkling. “A misunderstood guy with anger issues, a girl who sees the good in him, and they fall in love. Classic.”
That was the moment I felt it—the unmistakable click of chemistry.
After a week of nearly constant texting, he finally asked me to dinner. “I know a spot you’ll love,” he said, sending me the address of an upscale Italian restaurant downtown.
When I Googled it, my eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. White tablecloths, candlelight, and a menu that didn’t list prices—definitely fancy. I couldn’t resist teasing him. “Ooh, fancy. Should I bring a ball gown?”
“Only if you plan on dancing with a beast,” he replied, prompting a burst of laughter that left me snorting.
The night of our date arrived, and as I stepped into the restaurant, there he was. Aaron stood up the moment he saw me, and for a fleeting second, I forgot how to breathe. He looked even better in person—dressed in a sharp charcoal suit and a crisp white shirt, with that perfectly tousled hair that suggested he had put in just the right amount of effort.
When he leaned in for a quick hug, I caught a whiff of his cologne—expensive and intoxicating, the kind of scent that lingers in your memory long after the person is gone.
“You look incredible,” he said, pulling out my chair with a charming smile.
“Understatement of the century,” I shot back, unable to hide my excitement. “You look like you just closed a million-dollar deal.”
“Technically, I did,” he winked, and I rolled my eyes, laughing at his playful arrogance.
If first dates had a grading scale, this one was an A+. There were no awkward pauses, no exes brought up, and certainly no painful small talk about “what do you do for fun?” It felt easy, natural.
Then, in the middle of our appetizers, Aaron leaned forward, his eyes warm with curiosity. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?” he asked, clearly interested in digging deeper.
I blinked, caught off guard by his unexpected question. “Wow, going straight for the deep cuts, huh?” I teased.
“Life’s short. Why waste it on small talk?” he replied earnestly.
After a moment of thought, I shared, “Okay… I used to cheat at board games with my little brother.”
His eyes widened in mock horror. “Not board games!”
“Oh yeah,” I grinned. “Monopoly, Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders—ruthless strategies!”
Aaron shook his head, his lips twitching as he fought back laughter. “Remind me to never play cards with you.”
“No promises,” I shot back, enjoying the playful banter.
It felt good. It felt right.
Then, dessert arrived, and that’s when the night took an unexpected turn.
Aaron reached under the table and pulled out a single red rose. “For you,” he said, his voice softer than it had been all evening.
I blinked at the rose, my heart skipping a beat. A rose? Just like in Beauty and the Beast? He remembered my favorite story.
I took it carefully, running my fingers over the soft petals. “Oh my God, this is like a fairy tale! You remembered!”
Aaron chuckled, but not in the warm, sweet way I had anticipated. No, this was different—self-satisfied and smug.
“Oh, that’s funny,” he said. “But that’s not why I brought it.”
I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
His smile widened. “It’s like The Bachelor. I give roses to women I go on dates with if I think they’re good enough to move to the next round.”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. Surely, he was joking.
He wasn’t.
He sat there, completely serious, and I felt my excitement deflate like a balloon.
“So yeah, this rose is for you because I think you’re great. If things go well, you’ll keep getting roses. And when it’s down to two women, I’ll decide who I want to be with.”
I nearly choked on my tiramisu.
“You’re serious?” I asked, hoping I had misheard him.
“Absolutely!” he beamed. “Dating is hard, you know? This way, I make sure I’m picking the right person.”
And that? That was the moment I mentally checked out.
I sat there, processing how my dream date had just morphed into an unsanctioned reality show. A live-action dating competition, and I was an unpaid contestant.
When Aaron excused himself to the restroom, I made a decision. I waved the waiter over, pulled out my card, and paid for both of us.
Yes, I know I probably shouldn’t have paid for him too, but at that moment, it felt like a power move. And I’m a little petty.
Then, I grabbed my purse, took the rose, and walked right out the door.
No dramatic speech. No goodbye. Just a woman who knew when to walk away.
By the time I reached my car, my phone buzzed with a message from Aaron.
“Wow, I love a woman who takes initiative and isn’t a gold digger. Paying the bill? That’s impressive. You’ve definitely earned the next rose.”
I threw my head back and laughed aloud.
The man actually thought he was the prize.
I didn’t reply. No witty comeback. No speech.
I simply blocked his number and drove away.
Because sometimes? The real victory isn’t about finding the right person.
It’s about recognizing when to walk away from the wrong one.