I Treated Our Outings Like Dates — He Treated Me Like a Free Meal

Part 1

I spent two hours getting ready for what I was certain was our third date.

I curled my hair meticulously, burning my thumb on the barrel twice.

I laid out three different outfits on my bed before settling on the dark green dress.

It was the dress that always made me feel confident and elegant.

I wanted Tyler to see me as someone special, someone worth his full attention.

We had met six weeks earlier, seeking shelter from a sudden downpour in a cramped independent bookstore.

Wandering into the sci-fi section, I found him engrossed in a vintage cyberpunk paperback.

That chance encounter sparked a three-hour debate about interstellar travel and obscure nineties cartoons.

When he asked for my number, I felt a flutter in my chest that I hadn’t felt in years.

Our first official outing was a week later at a small Italian place downtown.

I called it a date in my head, analyzing every smile and prolonged eye contact.

He paid for his half of the meal, which I thought was just him being modern and respectful.

Our second outing was a walk through the botanical gardens on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

He bought me a coffee, handing it to me with a smile that made my stomach do flips.

I analyzed that gesture for days, convincing myself it was a sign of genuine affection.

Desperate for a second opinion, I showed my best friend Sarah everything, parsing his texts like ancient scrolls.

Despite her warnings that his behavior was too casual, I willingly blinded myself with the hope of a slow-burn romance.

Exhausted by the endless games of modern dating, I viewed Tyler as a rare breath of fresh air.

Morning after morning, my phone buzzed with his funny memes and quick check-ins.

Mistaking this friendly consistency for romantic pursuit, I poured all my energy into being the perfect potential partner.

Surprising him with his favorite snacks became a weekly habit.

Whenever he complained about his chaotic workplace, I offered thoughtful advice and a sympathetic ear.

Brick by brick, I was building the foundation for a relationship that only existed in my mind.

I rearranged my entire schedule just to be available whenever he wanted to meet up.

I canceled a weekend trip with my sister because he mentioned he might be free on Saturday.

He ended up going hiking with his coworkers instead, sending me a casual text apologizing.

I swallowed my disappointment, telling him I completely understood.

I was trying so hard to be the cool, accommodating girl who didn’t demand too much.

I thought if I was just easygoing enough, he would eventually realize how great we were together.

I bought two tickets to an indie band he mentioned liking, pretending my company gave them to me.

He accepted them enthusiastically, and we spent the evening standing shoulder to shoulder in a crowded venue.

I leaned into him slightly, hoping he would wrap his arm around my waist.

He kept his hands in his pockets the entire time, swaying to the music.

I convinced myself he was just respectful of my boundaries in public.

I was a master at inventing excuses for his lack of romantic initiative.

If he didn’t text for a day, he was busy with his demanding job.

If he didn’t complement my appearance, he was just not the type to focus on superficial things.

I was carrying the entire weight of our potential relationship on my shoulders.

Tonight was supposed to be the night we defined things.

I had suggested this upscale steakhouse, offering to treat him for a promotion he just got.

I walked into the restaurant feeling like a million bucks.

The hostess led me to a cozy booth in the back, the lighting dim and romantic.

Tyler arrived ten minutes later, wearing the same faded denim jacket he always wore.

He slid into the booth opposite me, grinning widely as he picked up the menu.

I felt a rush of affection just looking at him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled.

I ordered a glass of expensive red wine to calm my nerves.

He ordered a draft beer and leaned back comfortably against the leather seat.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, just like it always did.

We laughed about a bizarre customer he dealt with at work.

We debated the ending of a book we had both recently finished.

I felt so connected to him, so certain that we were on the same page.

I reached across the table and playfully nudged his hand.

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t hold my hand either.

I ignored the slight sting of rejection, chalking it up to public hesitation.

When the appetizers arrived, I decided it was time to steer the conversation toward us.

I took a deep breath, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I looked him straight in the eyes, trying to project a confidence I didn’t entirely feel.

I asked him what he thought about the way things were going between us.

I asked him if he was seeing anyone else, or if he wanted to make this exclusive.

I waited for his smile to soften, for him to reach across and take my hand properly.

He took a sip of his beer, completely oblivious to my racing heart, and said the words that made the entire room spin.