Typically, I cook all the meals for myself and my wife. The exception is on Fridays when my wife has the day off, but I work at a different site and so get home relatively late. The normal routine is that on Fridays, my wife will go to the store to get food for the week and then cook dinner Friday night. I handle meals from Saturday through Thursday. 

My wife is about five months pregnant with our first child and is experiencing a bit of “pregnancy brain”. 

I am on my way home from work and call my wife once I hit the highway like I typically do. 

Me: “Hey, honey, how are you feeling?”

Wife: “A little tired, but mostly all good.”

Me: “Sounds good. Is there dinner at home, or were you too tired? I can stop somewhere on my way home if you like?”

Wife: “No need; there is dinner here. All good.” 

I finish my drive home and come into the house to find my wife on the couch snacking on some cookies and watching TV. 

Me: “Hey, love, did you already eat?” 

Wife: *Happily* “Yep, I already ate. Thanks for checking on me.” 

I figure maybe she just got hungry early and there are leftovers somewhere. I clean up, change out of work clothes, and then go looking through the fridge. Not only are there no leftovers, but there is nothing from our weekly grocery list, just some snacks and junk food.

I start trying to cobble together some version of a nutritious dinner out of snacks and non-perishables from the pantry when, suddenly, I hear from the other room:

Wife: “OH, S***! YOU NEED TO EAT, TOO! I FORGOT!”

Once we stopped laughing, I had my junk food dinner, and we decided it was probably time to go through the chore list and make some pregnancy adjustments.

It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m eating dinner at a steakhouse. The waitress brings around a bunch of pink carnations and hands one out to each female diner. 

The man at the next table says something I can’t make out. His date replies: 

Woman: “No. You still have to. This flower isn’t from you; it’s from [Steakhouse]!”

My friend was asked by a date, very early into said date:

Date: “Are you on your period? I have this strange talent where I can always smell when a girl is on her period.”

She picked up her bag and left immediately.

The unnerving part was that she WAS on her period.

My fiancé and I work from home in different parts of the house, but we often start our nightly bathroom routine at the same time. We are quite fond of joking with each other, being older millennials.

One day, he finishes flossing his teeth ahead of me, so he starts flossing — the dance. I’m still doing my dental routine, but I attempt the same dance. My back pops loudly when I swing my hips quickly.

Fiancé: *Paling* “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yes, it’s perfectly normal. It just means I haven’t bent that way recently, so my hips will pop.”

He is relieved, but he’s a jokester.

Fiancé: “Well, thank goodness, but you gotta warn a guy before you start popping while flossing!”

He’s very proud of that one.

I use a particularly well-known dating app that allows you to swipe left or right on would-be suitors. I matched with a girl, and my first impression was that she was very attractive, had a nice complexion, and took care of herself, and based on her photos, she enjoyed the great outdoors. Being an outdoorsy guy myself, she ticked a lot of my boxes. We exchanged numbers and went out on our first date.

That’s when her red flags really began showing.

Throughout the entire date at a restaurant I chose, she was mainly on her phone, texting away. In between that, she asked me a lot of personal questions such as my wealth, how much money I made, etc. Out of politeness, I decided not to cut the date short because I also wanted to avoid any potential drama, even though my date was being incredibly rude and obnoxious with her glaringly evident materialistic lifestyle. After we concluded the date, I went home and deleted her number ASAP.

Months went by without any contact whatsoever. I had pretty much forgotten about her up until I got a text from a number that wasn’t saved in my phone.

Date: “I wanted you to know that I am seeing someone new now.”

Me: “I’m sorry, who is this?”

Date: “Wow. It’s [Date]. Don’t pretend like you haven’t been thinking about me.”

Me: “Not really. I mean, why do you think I haven’t texted you since?”

Date: “It’s okay to be mad. Really. But I just want you to know that you can still win me back by taking me here.”

She then sent me a link to a private island vacation in the Caribbean. The price? At least $30,000 per person. I was speechless for a moment.

Me: “Hahaha, tell me this is a joke, please. You seriously think I’m that desperate?”

Date: “If you’re poor, babe, just say so!”

Me: “It’s not a matter of whether I’m poor or not. I just don’t believe that you are worth spending that much money on.”

Date: “Typical broke-a** boy talk.”

For the record, I would not describe myself as poor. I am self-employed and make a very decent income.

Me: “Huh, let’s see for a second. I took you out to [Expensive Restaurant], drove you in my [Expensive Car] because you didn’t want to book a [Rideshare] from your apartment, and paid for everything on the bill that you wanted, which also happened to be the most or nearly the most expensive thing on the menu. Who sounds more poor, love?”

She didn’t respond after that. I sincerely hope that whoever she’s “seeing” now is either incredibly desperate or just as shallow as her. The whole experience put me off dating for such a long time.