When Aaron arrived like a waking dream and ended the evening with a red rose, I thought I’d met my Prince Charming. But once he explained why he’d given me the rose, I blocked his number and walked away for good.
“We’re compatible!” That was the first thought that came to my mind when Aaron’s face appeared on my phone screen with that little “We’re compatible” banner.
A woman smiling while texting | Source: Midjourney
He was, quite honestly, gorgeous. He had broad shoulders, a neatly trimmed beard, and eyes that reminded me of warm honey dripping onto freshly baked bread. He had a sharp, classic style, as if he knew how to tie a Windsor knot without resorting to a YouTube tutorial.
His bio wasn’t bad either: “Looking for something real. Lover of books, coffee, and bad puns.”
And his messages? The chef’s kiss.
A woman texting impatiently | Source: Midjourney
He asked thoughtful questions—not just the basic, “So, what’s your hobby?” kind of questions most guys start with. No, Aaron remembered things. It was like he was talking to someone who was actually listening, and that alone was a novelty.
One evening, in the middle of a conversation about childhood nostalgia, I casually mentioned that my favorite story was Beauty and the Beast.
Instead of the usual “Oh, that’s cute” response, Aaron texted me back, “No way, that was my favorite story too! But I have to admit, I’ve only seen the Disney version.”
A woman texting on her phone | Source: Midjourney
I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. “It matters,” I replied. “It’s always the same story.”
“Exactly,” he replied. “A misunderstood guy with anger issues, a girl who sees the good in him, and they fall in love. Classic.”
I stared at the screen, feeling a warmth in my chest that I wasn’t ready to admit out loud.
“You really understand,” I typed, and for the first time in ages, I really meant it.
A woman texting | Source: Midjourney
After a week of near-constant texts—mornings, lunch breaks, random “I saw this and thought of you” memes—he finally asked me out to dinner.
“I know a place you’ll love,” he said, sending me the address of an upscale Italian restaurant downtown.
I did a Google search and was instantly struck by images of white tablecloths, glowing candles, and decor that perfectly blended old-world Italian charm with modernity.
A table in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
My eyebrows rose.
I texted back, “Ooh, that’s fancy. Should I bring a prom dress?”
His response was immediate. “Only if you intend to dance with a beast.”
I laughed so hard I sniffled, alone in my kitchen, already imagining how I would tell my best friend this.
A smiling woman holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
The restaurant was even more magical in person. Warm light shimmered on the shining wine glasses. The soft hum of violins hung in the air, and the aroma—rich garlic, fresh basil, and baked bread—enveloped me like a hug.
I stepped inside, looking for Aaron, and there he was.
He stood up when he saw me, and my heart did an embarrassing little somersault. The man was even more handsome in person. He wore a charcoal suit and a crisp white shirt. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but he still looked sharp.
A smiling man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
When I approached, he smiled, showing teeth so perfect I almost wanted to ask him for his dentist’s number. And that scent when he leaned in to give me a brief hug? I couldn’t name it, but it smelled wonderful.
“You look beautiful,” he said, pulling out my chair. “I feel underdressed.”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” I teased, gesturing toward his suit. “You look like you just closed a million-dollar deal.”
“Technically, it is,” he said with a wink, and I rolled my eyes and laughed.
A man sitting at a table in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
If first dates had a rating scale, this one was a 10/10. No awkward pauses, no “so tell me about your ex” moments that make you question your life choices. It was easy.
Aaron didn’t ask the superficial questions I expected. Instead, amidst the appetizers, he leaned forward, his eyes shining with curiosity, and asked, “What’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?”
I blinked, caught off guard, but not in a bad way.
A woman on a date in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Wow, you’re getting straight to the point, aren’t you?” I teased, stabbing my fork into a piece of bruschetta.
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Life is short. Why waste it on chatter?”
I chewed for a second, thinking. “Okay, um… I used to cheat at board games with my little brother.”
“No,” he gasped, placing a hand on his chest as if I’d mortally wounded him. “Not board games.”
A man in a restaurant resting one hand against his chest | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, board games,” I said, laughing. “Monopoly, Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders—I was ruthless.” I leaned in, lowering my voice as if confessing to a grand conspiracy. “He never knew I was raking in extra Monopoly money under the table.”
Aaron tilted his head, his eyes narrowed in mock judgment. “Are you telling me you were out there committing financial fraud at the age of eight?”
“Survival of the fittest,” I said, shrugging with exaggerated innocence. “I don’t regret anything.”
A woman smiling at her date | Source: Midjourney
He shook his head slowly, his lips twitching as if he were trying not to laugh. “Remind me never to play cards with you.”
“I’m not promising anything,” I replied. “But I’ll try to play fair.”
It felt good. No, I felt good. Like I’d found someone I wouldn’t have to force things with. I thought briefly of my best friend, Cara, and made a note to text her later: Heart emoji. Fire emoji. Girl, I think I found it.
When dessert arrived—tiramisu, because I have taste—Aaron did something straight out of a rom-com.
A man and a woman on a date in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
He pulled a red rose from under the table. I blinked at it, my heart stumbling.
“This is for you,” he said, his eyes softer than any I’d seen since the beginning of the evening.
My hands moved of their own accord, accepting the rose. The petals were velvety, without a single flaw. Perfect.
“Oh my God, it looks like Beauty and the Beast!” I laughed, holding it up like a prize. “You remember! I told you it was my favorite story.”
Aaron chuckled. It wasn’t a warm, soft laugh. No, it was deeper. A little too pleased with himself.
A man smiling weakly while sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, that’s funny,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But that’s not why I brought it.”
I tilted my head, confused. “Oh? Then why?”
Her smile widened. “It’s like The Bachelor. I give roses to the women I date if I think they’re good enough to take it to the next level.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to crack a smile or say, “Just kidding.” He didn’t. He sat there, proud of himself, as if he’d cracked the secret to modern dating.
A smiling man sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“So, yes, this rose is for you because I think you’re awesome. If things go well, you’ll keep getting roses from me. When there are only two women left, I’ll decide who I want to be with.”
He stared at me intently with an impatient look, as if waiting for me to swoon over his honesty or something.
I blinked, stunned. My brain shut down. “Are you serious?”
A surprised woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“Absolutely!” he said, his smile unwavering. “It’s a brilliant system. Dating is hard, you know? This way I can be sure I’m choosing the right person.”
I sat there, trying to figure out how my “dream date” had just turned into an unsanctioned reality TV show. A live dating competition. And I was an unpaid participant.
The tiramisu suddenly tasted like sand in my mouth.
A single portion of tiramisu on a plate | Source: Pexels
When Aaron excused himself to go to the bathroom, I just sat there, staring at the rose on the table as if it might start talking.
I heard my mother’s voice in my head: “People tell you who they are, honey. Believe them.” Well, Aaron had just told me who he was—a man with an ego big enough to turn dating into a game show.
No, I wasn’t ready to play. I wasn’t going to play.
A serious woman looking over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney
I signaled to the waiter, took out my card, and paid the bill for both of us. Yes, I know I shouldn’t have paid for him too, but in the moment, I felt like I was making a power move and I was being petty. I grabbed my purse and the rose and left. I walked to my car, the cold night air biting at my skin, but I didn’t feel it. I felt lucid.
No “what ifs,” no “maybe I’m too harsh.” I saw the flag. It was red. I’m not colorblind.
A serious woman in a parking lot | Source: Midjourney
I got into my car, tossing the rose onto the passenger seat as if it were just another item of furniture. Just as I turned on the ignition, my phone rang.
Aaron.
I hesitated, then opened the message: “Wow, I love a woman who takes initiative and isn’t a gold digger. Are you footing the bill? That’s impressive. You’ve definitely earned the next rose.”
I threw my head back and laughed. The kind of wild, ugly laugh that shakes your whole body.
A woman laughing in her stationary car | Source: Midjourney
He thought he was the prize.
I didn’t respond. No witty comeback. No “actually…” speech. I simply blocked his number, deleted our conversation, and left.
I spent years trying to find the right man, but that night, I realized something. Sometimes, victory isn’t about finding the right person.
A woman smiles while sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney
It’s more about walking away from the wrong person.
Read also: My mother called me on her honeymoon begging me to save her from her new husband
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the story. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and all opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the opinions of the author or publisher.
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