I thought our first date was going to be chill. Mark seemed fine on the surface – a financial analyst with a passion for CrossFit. But as soon as we sat down at the trendy Italian restaurant, his true colors began to show. He ordered for me, shutting down the dessert menu before I even had a chance to look at it. “I like skinny women,” he said, as if that gave him the right to dictate what I ate.
Something inside me snapped. I politely agreed to his face, but I had already made up my mind. I turned to the server and asked him to bring over the dessert menu again. This time, I ordered not just for myself, but for the table behind us – two lovely ladies in red who looked like they deserved a sweet treat.
As the server brought over the desserts, I stood up, grabbed my bag, and joined the ladies. We dug into the tiramisu, panna cotta, and affogato, laughing and chatting like old friends. Mark sat alone at our original table, looking like a man who had just been told he was allergic to happiness.
The ladies, Loretta and Elaine, were a breath of fresh air. They told me stories of their lives, of dodging men like Mark and finding joy in the little things. As I prepared to leave, Loretta winked and said, “You’re welcome back anytime.” I smiled, knowing I had found friends for life.
As I walked out of the restaurant, I felt a sense of pride and satisfaction. I had stood up for myself, and I had found a new appreciation for the power of female friendship. Mark may have thought he was controlling the narrative, but I was the one who ended up with the sweetest dessert – my dignity intact.
