Dear Boys, Why I Never Pay on First Dates


[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ear Boys,

The thing is.  Paying.  Like dating.  Like life.  Is all about balance.  But I don’t pick up the tab on first dates.  Let me say that again.  I.  Don’t.  Pick.  Up.  The.  Tab.  On.  First.  Dates.  Or 3rd dates.  Or possibly even 8th dates.  Now this isn’t to say I don’t “pay” in other ways.  You see.  It takes a lot, boys, to maintain the standard that I like to offer and that I’m guessing you like to receive on that first date.  And the dates that follow.  Now don’t misunderstand me boys, because I’m not complaining.  I like to look awesome for you.  I like to look awesome for me.  But I’m still not paying for the first date.

See the thing is.  By the time you see me.  By the time we’re actually on that first date together.  I’ve already spent a ton.  And because I wouldn’t want you to just have to take my word for it.  Here’s a little tally sheet.  A little accountant’s ledger.  A little “I did” list, if you will:

Pedicure               $30-70 (tip incl)
Brow tint              $12
Brow wax            $15
Lady bit wax        $65
Teeth Whitening   $20/mth
Make Up             $400-$1200/year
Hair products       $30/mth
Hair straightener   $120
Hair cut                $120/3x year
New clothes         $40 (new shirt) – $400 (new outfit)
New undies          $10-100
Therapy                (joke)

Now this is just a ball park estimate.  A quick run down.  Of just a few things it takes to look so good for you.  And before you get all up in arms, boys, about how you get haircuts too and sometimes you even use some gel in your hair.  Sure.  I concur.  You get haircuts too.  At the barber.  For $20.  And that $4 bottle of gel.  I get it.  That really sets you back.  But that is nothing by comparison to the 8 products it takes to tame this curly mane (yet keep it soft and supple for your touching enjoyment) or on days I straighten it, the $50 salon-purchased-heat-protecting-leave-in-conditioning-must-be-made-of-gold-for-that-price product).  So I’m just sayin’.  We’re not even close.  You’re sitting on the bench at a little league game having had to pay $3 for a soda.  And I’m stuck with the bill for box seats at a Canucks game during the 7th game of the playoffs.

So with that being said.  I think.  I THINK.  That you can pay for my fucking Starbucks latte.  Or on even cheaper days.  My diet coke.  You got this.  That’s what you should say.  I got this.  And I mean obviously.  Don’t even wait for the awkward moment of who might pay.  Because I’ll tell you.  My dreamboat.  My unicorn.  My Aaron Karo.  He’s not waiting.  He’s got balls.  He knows what’s up.  On date 2 when dinner seems reasonable.  We’ve ordered.  At some point he’s gotten up (presumably to go to the bathroom).  He gives the waitress with his credit card.  To pay the bill when we’re done.  So it’ll never even be brought to the table.  No awkward moment.  My unicorn.  *sigh*  And it’s not even about the money.  It’s the fucking forethought.  Don’t buy me flowers.  Just protect me from uncomfortable moments.  That’s lusty.

And that right there is really the second reason.  The first is because it’s your turn to balance the expenditures. The second is to look like a man.  An Aaron Karo kind of man.  The kind of man that knows/says this:

“When the check comes, there should be absolutely no debate: I’m paying.  Ladies, any guy who doesn’t pay for you is fucking worthless.  Any guy who offers to split the check should hand in his man badge and have his testicles confiscated at the door: he’s done.” – Aaron Karo excerpt from I’m Having More Fun Than You available through

And on a personal note.  I reiterate.  Boys.  I don’t even drink (anymore).  So really.  Come the fuck on.  My kisses.  My time.  Well worth a fucking $6 coffee.  In fact.  You just go ahead and get me a gift card to Starbucks while we’re up there at the register.  And maybe an oat fudge bar.  And throw in a french press too.  Just Sayin’.  I’m worth it.

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey

aka Something She Dated
aka Your boys favorite accountant
aka That girl at the bank two tellers over
aka Giving boys back their balls one dating faux pas elimination at a time
aka Dating Vancouver a better place one “something” at a time

Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

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Victoria Young

Writer. Dater. Masturbator. Stop ruining my jokes by believing the self-deprecation. I am far greater than your boner will ever know.