At first, Eric seemed perfect — polite, charming, thoughtful. The kind of man who showed up early with roses and held doors open like it was second nature. After one easy, laughter-filled dinner, I actually believed my best friend was right about him. Then, the next morning, an email arrived: “Invoice for Last Night.” Itemized charges for dinner, flowers, and “emotional labor,” complete with a warning that failure to comply would “result in Chris hearing about it.” My jaw dropped. The “gentleman” had turned the evening into a spreadsheet of manipulation.
Continues…
