It was our first date. It wasn’t my birthday, and it wasn’t any occasion either. We were seated, eating, when a guy with a guitar strapped around his neck walked to our table and started playing for us. My date looked at me and asked, “Do you like it? I wanted tonight to be special.”

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It felt awkward because everyone in the place turned to look at us. Some were laughing, and others were giggling. I nodded, hoping after a song the guy would walk away. No, he stayed. Song after song later, the awkwardness intensified. I whispered to him, “I’m fine. Can you make him leave?”

No, that wasn’t the end of the surprise. He asked the guitarist to play him a beat so he could sing. In my head, I was like, “Ah, did this guy bring me here to embarrass me?” He sang a song he said was titled “Would You Be Mine?” and later went down on one knee in front of everyone, asking if I would be his girlfriend.

It was our first date. He hadn’t proposed before, and I hadn’t given any indication that if he proposed, I would say yes. It was just a date I kept putting off until I decided I should go so he would stop bothering me.

I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I nodded, and everyone was like, “Ohhh, ooh, awww, awww,” while others just continued laughing.

He held my hand, trying to get me onto my feet so we could dance. I didn’t get up. When the guitarist left and we were settled, I asked that we go home. He asked, “Mine or yours?” I answered, “I’ll go to mine, and you’ll go to yours.” He said, “After everything?”

He was there preaching about how we should spend the night together to consummate our newfound love when I got up and started walking away. He followed. My Uber was already waiting. I said goodnight and left. I was so relieved; it felt like a burden had been lifted off my chest.

I got home, sent a message to thank him for the treat, and even lied that I enjoyed every bit of it. He replied, “You didn’t do well at all. After doing all this, the least I deserved was to spend the night with you. Not even a kiss was given.”

It was the last thing I could take for the night, so I told him, “If you did all that so you could sleep with me, then I’m sorry—you don’t deserve the love you’re looking for. I lied when I nodded. Let’s not prolong this. Bye-bye.”

I put my phone on silent mode and slept. I woke up to a message calling me ungrateful and not open-minded. I didn’t respond. Days later, he was back, telling me, “Upon deep reflection, I’ve realized you were right. Accept my apology, and let’s do it again.”

I’ve blocked him.

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On our first date, and you want to *eat*? You played a guitar for me, so I should spend the night with you? I didn’t, so you called me ungrateful? How red should this flag be before I call it what it is?

He’s in my DMs on Facebook. I think he wants to live there, so I’ve given him space to live rent-free. When he’s tired, he can relocate.

—Akos

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