My Dating App Match Demanded I Fight For Her After Revealing She Was Pregnant On Our First Date
Part 2
I yanked my arm out from under her surprisingly strong grip.
My chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.
A few heads turned from the adjacent booths.
I didn’t care about the optics anymore.
I threw a fifty-dollar bill onto the table to cover the untouched waters and the impending appetizers.
Brenda stared at the money like it was an insult.
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
She demanded to know where I was going.
I told her I was going home.
I kept my voice low but firm.
I explained that there was a massive difference between being intentional and being deceptive.
Her doll-like features contorted into a genuine scowl.
She scoffed loudly enough for the waiter to hear.
She accused me of being just like all the other men on those apps.
She claimed I was terrified of real commitment.
I grabbed my coat and swung it over my arm.
I pointed out that a first date was supposed to be a basic introduction.
It was not supposed to be an ambush interview for a co-parenting role.
She leaned back in the booth.
She smoothed down the fabric of her tight emerald dress.
She told me I was walking away from my destiny.
She repeated the word destiny with an unsettling finality.
I turned on my heel.
I marched toward the front door without looking back.
The crisp night air hit my face like a physical reset.
I dug my keys out of my pocket.
My hands were actually shaking.
I climbed into my car and locked the doors immediately.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder.
It was a message from Brenda on the first app.
She told me she wasn’t expecting such an easy goodbye.
She asked why I didn’t fight for her.
I stared at the screen in pure disbelief.
I immediately blocked her on the first app.
I opened the second app and blocked her there too.
I deleted both apps for good measure.
I put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.
I watched the restaurant fade in my rearview mirror.
I finally let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for an hour.
Was I wrong for abandoning a pregnant woman in a restaurant, or had I just narrowly escaped a lifetime of madness?
Part 3
Greg sat in his idling sedan and stared at the dark screen of his smartphone.
He wondered if he was completely wrong for abandoning a pregnant woman in a restaurant, or if he had just narrowly escaped a lifetime of madness.
The engine hummed a quiet, steady rhythm against the cold silence of the empty parking lot.
He ran his hands over the smooth leather of the steering wheel.
His knuckles were entirely white from the sheer force of his grip.
He took a deep breath, letting the chilly air fill his burning lungs.
He tried to piece together the chaotic sequence of events that led to this surreal moment.
The entire ordeal felt like a bizarre fever dream he couldn’t quite shake.
Greg shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the restaurant.
He watched the building shrink in his rearview mirror, feeling a massive weight lift off his chest.
He needed to get home and process the absolute insanity he had just escaped.
He opened his phone one last time to double-check that she was permanently blocked.
He stared at the cached version of her profile before it disappeared into the digital void.
He remembered how deceiving her original photos had been when he first saw them.
Her pictures showcased a stunning, vibrant woman with seemingly flawless skin.
She had striking, bright eyes that seemed to pop right off the digital screen.
She looked put-together, professional, and entirely out of his league.
He didn’t think much of it when he tossed his phone onto his desk.
An hour later, a notification pinged on his screen from the first app.
Brenda had matched with him.
Before he could even type a greeting, a second notification popped up from the second app.
She had matched with him there, too.
Greg chuckled at the sheer statistical improbability of the double match.
He opened his phone to find she had already messaged him on both platforms simultaneously.
Her opening line wasn’t a “hello” or a joke about his profile pictures.
It was just a single, unadorned wedding ring emoji.
He raised an eyebrow, amused by the sheer audacity of the opening move.
He appreciated a bold sense of humor.
He typed back a quick, teasing reply asking when the big day was scheduled.
Brenda didn’t miss a beat.
She replied instantly, stating that they had a lot of planning to do before spring.
He laughed out loud in his quiet, empty apartment.
He found the banter refreshing and effortlessly fun.
Greg kept his foot heavy on the gas pedal as he sped down the empty avenue.
He checked his rearview mirror every five seconds, paranoid that he would see her headlights trailing him.
The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, making his hands shake violently against the leather steering wheel.
He couldn’t believe he had actually walked out of the restaurant and left her sitting there.
It was completely out of character for him to cause a scene in a public place.
However, nothing about this evening had adhered to any normal social conventions.
He turned down a side street, taking a deliberate detour to ensure he wasn’t being followed.
The flashing neon signs of closed storefronts cast long, distorted shadows across his dashboard.
He reached over and turned off the radio, needing absolute silence to process the sheer absurdity of the night.
Brenda’s calm, doll-like face kept flashing in his mind’s eye.
Her terrifying assertion that they were bound by destiny echoed in the quiet cabin of the car.
He shuddered, feeling a cold sweat break out across the back of his neck.
He finally pulled into the familiar safety of his apartment complex’s parking lot.
He parked in his designated spot and immediately locked the doors before turning off the engine.
He sat in the dark car for several minutes, waiting for his racing heart to slow down.
The quiet hum of the distant highway was the only sound cutting through the stillness.
He grabbed his phone from the cupholder and opened his blocked list one more time.
He needed the visual confirmation that Brenda was entirely erased from his digital footprint.
Her profile was gone, wiped clean from both the first app and the second app.
He let out a long, ragged exhale and shoved the phone deep into his coat pocket.
He grabbed his keys and stepped out into the biting autumn air.
The cold wind whipped against his face, offering a much-needed shock of reality.
He sprinted up the concrete stairs to his second-floor apartment, skipping every other step.
He jammed his key into the deadbolt and practically fell through the front door.
He slammed the door shut behind him and immediately flipped all three locks.
He leaned his back against the solid wood, closing his eyes in sheer relief.
He was finally safe in the boring, predictable sanctuary of his own home.
He decided he would never complain about a quiet, lonely weekend ever again.
Greg kicked off his shoes and walked into the small kitchenette to pour himself a glass of water.
He stood by the sink, letting the cool liquid soothe his incredibly dry throat.
The digital clock on the microwave glowed with an aggressive, bright green light.
It was barely nine o’clock, yet he felt like he had been running a marathon for days.
He walked into the living room and collapsed onto the worn fabric of his favorite couch.
He pulled a thick blanket over his legs, trying to ward off the lingering chill from the restaurant.
He reached for the television remote, desperate for some mindless distraction to drown out his thoughts.
He flipped through the channels until he found a meaningless late-night talk show.
The canned laughter of the studio audience felt incredibly grating, but he forced himself to watch.
He needed to ground himself in something completely ordinary and utterly mundane.
He slowly felt his tense muscles begin to unclench as the host delivered a painfully predictable monologue.
He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would take him quickly and erase the memory of the disastrous date.
Just as he began to drift off, his phone vibrated violently against the wooden coffee table.
The sudden noise sounded like a gunshot in the quiet apartment.
Greg jerked awake, his heart instantly hammering against his ribs all over again.
He stared at the phone, watching the screen illuminate the dark room with a harsh white glow.
It was an incoming text message from an unknown number.
He hesitated for a long moment, his thumb hovering nervously over the screen.
He tried to convince himself it was just an automated spam message or a wrong number.
He slowly picked up the device and opened the notification with trembling fingers.
The message contained a single, terrifyingly specific sentence.
It read, ‘You can run from the table, but you cannot run from what the universe has ordained.’
Greg felt all the blood drain from his face in an instant.
He dropped the phone onto the couch as if it had suddenly caught fire.
He scrambled backward, pressing himself firmly against the far armrest.
She had somehow gotten his phone number, even though they had only communicated through the dating applications.
He realized with a sickening twist in his gut that she must have run a background check.
She had his full name, his workplace, and his personal contact information.
The quiet sanctuary of his apartment suddenly felt entirely exposed and horribly vulnerable.
He stared at the offending device, watching the screen eventually fade to black.
He wanted to throw it against the wall and shatter it into a million pieces.
Instead, he forced himself to take a deep, stabilizing breath and think logically.
He picked the phone back up and immediately blocked the unknown number without replying.
He knew that engaging with her would only fuel her massive, spiraling delusion.
He navigated to his privacy settings and locked down all of his social media accounts.
He changed his profile pictures to generic landscapes and removed any mention of his location.
He felt like a fugitive attempting to erase his identity in the middle of the night.
He paced back and forth across the small living room rug, unable to sit still.
He considered calling the police, but realized he had absolutely no actionable proof of a crime.
She hadn’t threatened him with violence; she had simply sent a bizarre, cryptic text.
The authorities would likely dismiss it as a bad date and tell him to ignore her.
He was entirely on his own in dealing with this relentless, unyielding nightmare.
He walked over to the front window and carefully peeled back the edge of the blinds.
He peered down at the dimly lit parking lot, scanning the rows of empty vehicles.
The familiar shapes of his neighbors’ cars offered a small, fleeting sense of comfort.
Then, his eyes locked onto a dark sedan parked directly across the street under a flickering streetlight.
It hadn’t been there when he arrived home just an hour prior.
The engine was turned off, but the faint outline of a person was visible in the driver’s seat.
The glow of a smartphone screen illuminated a face covered in thick, doll-like makeup.
Greg gasped out loud and quickly dropped the blinds, stumbling backward away from the glass.
She was sitting right outside his building, watching his second-floor windows.
The sheer audacity of her stalking him across town sent a fresh wave of panic through his chest.
He grabbed his heavy wooden baseball bat from the hall closet and gripped it tightly with both hands.
He sat on the floor with his back against the front door, weapon raised and ready.
He listened intently for the sound of footsteps on the exterior concrete stairs.
The silence stretched on for hours, torturing him with every passing second.
He refused to close his eyes, fueled by an exhausting combination of fear and pure adrenaline.
The first pale streaks of dawn finally began to creep through the gaps in the window blinds.
Greg’s arms ached terribly from clutching the wooden bat for six straight hours.
He slowly pushed himself up from the floor, his joints popping loudly in the quiet room.
He crept back over to the window and carefully peeked outside.
The dark sedan was gone, leaving the parking spot completely empty.
He let out a shaky breath and leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the windowpane.
He had survived the night, but the psychological toll was already immense.
He walked into the bathroom and stared at his haggard reflection in the mirror.
Dark circles hung heavily under his bloodshot eyes, and his skin looked pale and sickly.
He splashed freezing water on his face, trying to scrub away the lingering exhaustion.
He knew he couldn’t simply hide in his apartment forever like a terrified prisoner.
He had to go to work, interact with people, and pretend his life hadn’t been hijacked.
He threw on a fresh shirt and grabbed his keys, steeling himself for the day ahead.
He promised himself he would handle the situation aggressively if she dared to show up again.
The drive to the logistics firm was uneventful, but Greg’s paranoia remained fully activated.
He checked his mirrors obsessively, jumping at every car that lingered too closely behind him.
He arrived at the office building and hurried inside, seeking the safety of his crowded department.
He sat down at his cubicle and tried to focus on the endless rows of data on his monitor.
The numbers swam before his eyes, refusing to form any coherent, logical patterns.
An annoying coworker from the sales department stopped by his desk with a steaming cup of coffee.
The coworker loudly asked him how the big date had gone the previous night.
Greg let out a hollow, humorless laugh that sounded completely unhinged.
He bluntly stated that he had essentially gone out to dinner with a pregnant stalker.
The coworker chuckled and walked away, clearly thinking Greg was delivering a highly exaggerated, comedic bit.
Greg didn’t bother correcting him; the truth was simply too bizarre to explain in a passing conversation.
He turned back to his monitor and forced himself to type out a quarterly expense report.
He managed to survive until the lunch hour without receiving any more cryptic messages.
He began to foolishly hope that Brenda had simply given up and moved on to her next victim.
At exactly noon, the receptionist paged Greg to the front desk over the office intercom.
She announced that a very special, urgent delivery had just arrived for him.
Greg’s stomach plummeted straight to the floor, leaving him feeling violently nauseous.
He walked slowly down the long, carpeted hallway, feeling like a man marching toward the gallows.
He rounded the corner and saw a massive, three-tiered seafood tower sitting on the reception desk.
It was identical to the extravagant appetizer Brenda had ordered at the bistro.
The receptionist was staring at the massive pile of crab legs and oysters with sheer bewilderment.
An envelope constructed from heavy, expensive cardstock rested at the very top of the tower.
Greg approached the desk with cautious, deliberate steps, refusing to touch the food.
He picked up the envelope and tore it open with shaking hands.
The note inside was written in elegant, looping cursive that looked like it belonged on a wedding invitation.
It read, ‘A proper father always provides for his growing family.
Eat up, darling.’
Greg crushed the heavy paper in his fist, completely unable to contain his escalating rage.
He grabbed the entire seafood tower and dumped it directly into the large lobby trash can.
The receptionist gasped loudly, clearly horrified by the incredible waste of expensive food.
Greg apologized quickly and told her to absolutely never accept another package for him.
He marched back to his desk, his previous fear completely replaced by burning, white-hot anger.
This woman was actively invading his professional life and attempting to humiliate him.
He picked up his desk phone and dialed the local non-emergency police line.
He spent twenty minutes explaining the entire, convoluted situation to a highly skeptical dispatcher.
He detailed the dating app match, the hidden pregnancy, the stalking, and the bizarre seafood delivery.
The dispatcher took down the information but confirmed his previous fears regarding police intervention.
Because Brenda hadn’t made any direct threats of physical harm, they couldn’t issue an immediate restraining order.
They advised him to meticulously document every single interaction and contact them if she escalated.
Greg slammed the phone down, frustrated by the bureaucratic limitations of the justice system.
He realized that nobody was going to swoop in and magically solve this terrifying problem for him.
He had to draw a hard, impenetrable boundary and enforce it himself.
He decided he would confront her directly the very next time she revealed her location.
The opportunity presented itself much sooner than he had anticipated.
He left work right at five o’clock and stopped at a nearby grocery store to pick up dinner.
He was standing in the produce section, aggressively inspecting a bruised apple.
He felt that undeniable, heavy sensation of being intensely watched from afar.
He turned his head slowly and scanned the brightly lit aisles of the supermarket.
Brenda was standing near the organic vegetables, holding a basket filled with prenatal vitamins.
She was wearing a long, flowing maternity dress and her signature mask of heavy, doll-like makeup.
She smiled serenely when they locked eyes, completely unfazed by his obvious anger.
Greg dropped the apple back into the bin and marched directly toward her.
He didn’t care who was watching; he was entirely done playing defensive games.
He stopped three feet away from her, invading her personal bubble with absolute purpose.
He kept his voice low but laced it with undeniable, razor-sharp authority.
He told her that this absurd stalking campaign was ending right here, right now.
Brenda simply tilted her head, maintaining her terrifying, painted composure.
She reached into her basket and pulled out a heavy book of baby names.
She completely ignored his furious statement and asked if he preferred traditional or modern titles.
Greg slapped the book out of her hand, sending it crashing onto the linoleum floor.
A few nearby shoppers stopped in their tracks, staring at the escalating confrontation.
Greg pointed a shaking finger directly in her face, refusing to back down.
He stated clearly and loudly that he was absolutely never going to be the father of her child.
He told her that they had gone on one disastrous date, and she was acting like an unhinged lunatic.
Brenda’s serene smile finally faltered, her heavily mascaraed eyes widening in genuine shock.
She had clearly expected him to eventually fold under her relentless, suffocating pressure.
She looked around at the growing crowd of onlookers, her pristine facade cracking publicly.
She picked up her fallen book, her hands trembling with a sudden, uncontrolled fury.
She hissed that he was completely unworthy of the magnificent destiny she had offered him.
She turned on her heel and practically sprinted toward the automatic exit doors.
Greg watched her leave, feeling the heavy, suffocating weight finally lift from his shoulders.
The grocery store remained dead silent for a few long, awkward seconds after her departure.
Greg let out a massive, shuddering breath and ran his hands through his messy hair.
An older woman pushing a shopping cart gave him a sympathetic, knowing nod.
He offered a weak smile in return and quickly abandoned his own shopping trip.
He walked back out to his car, his legs feeling like they were constructed of heavy lead.
He drove home in complete silence, checking his mirrors entirely out of habit rather than fear.
The streets were clear, and there was no dark sedan waiting for him in the parking lot.
He walked up to his apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped into the quiet space.
The silence no longer felt oppressive or vulnerable; it felt profoundly peaceful and highly secured.
He walked over to his laptop and pulled up his email inbox, determined to take back total control.
He drafted a detailed, factual log of every single interaction he had endured with Brenda.
He saved the document in three separate locations, preparing the evidence for any future legal action.
He knew he couldn’t control her delusion, but he could absolutely control his own aggressive defense.
The following weeks passed without a single bizarre delivery or unhinged text message.
Greg slowly allowed himself to drop his guard and return to his normal, mundane routine.
He went back to hitting the gym and enjoying quiet evenings alone on his couch.
He completely avoided downloading any new dating applications onto his phone.
The sheer thought of swiping right on a stranger made him physically nauseous.
He decided he was perfectly content with his own company for the foreseeable future.
He spent his weekends exploring local hiking trails and reconnecting with old college friends.
He realized that the peace he had been desperately searching for had always been right in front of him.
It wasn’t found in a forced, cinematic romance or a manufactured destiny with a complete stranger.
It was found in the quiet, simple moments of absolute autonomy and unbothered solitude.
He occasionally thought back to the horrific date at the bistro, but it felt like a distant, faded nightmare.
The memory no longer held any real, visceral power over his daily emotional state.
He had drawn a hard boundary and successfully defended his own peaceful reality.
Six months later, Greg received an unexpected promotion at the mid-sized logistics firm.
He celebrated the massive achievement by treating himself to a solo dinner at a nice steakhouse.
He sat at a comfortable corner booth, sipping a glass of expensive red wine and reading a good book.
He didn’t check his phone once during the entire, incredibly relaxing meal.
He looked around the dimly lit dining room, observing the various couples engaged in forced conversation.
He felt a profound sense of gratitude for his own uncomplicated, completely drama-free existence.
He paid his bill and stepped out into the warm, inviting summer evening air.
He walked slowly toward his reliable sedan, enjoying the gentle breeze rustling through the nearby trees.
He opened his car door and slid into the driver’s seat, feeling entirely present and completely grounded.
He looked at the empty passenger seat and smiled, appreciating the absolute freedom it represented.
He turned the key in the ignition, bringing the quiet engine to life with a steady, reliable hum.
He shifted the car into drive and pulled out onto the busy, brightly lit avenue.
He drove off into the night, leaving the chaos and the madness permanently in his rearview mirror.
He spent the entire weekend completely off the grid, avoiding all forms of social media and digital communication.
He ordered a large pepperoni pizza on Saturday night and ate the entire thing by himself while watching a classic action movie.
He didn’t care about his rigid diet or his strict gym schedule anymore.
He just needed to reward himself for surviving the most bizarre week of his entire adult life.
He realized that true happiness was often found in the complete absence of unnecessary drama.
He vowed to cherish these quiet, solitary moments for the rest of his days.
THE END
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
