You aren't sure if this situation is more telling for you or him.

Patrick is hot. Like, the kind of hot that has you agreeing to meet with him after exchanging no more than five texts on Tinder. (His bio has his measurements. Nobody can really blame you for wanting to jump that.) Except he was insistent on being a gentleman and meeting you somewhere for drinks and dinner first. Gotta treat you before I tap that, he'd said.

Free food and a big... you know. How could you turn that down?

So, here you are. Sitting across from him while he sits there with a stain on his shirt (you can't remember if that was there before or after meeting up with him), his eyes nothing short of expectant, head tilted and smirk in place. Both of your plates are empty, your drinks have been downed, and it's only now you're glad he had made that remark about you being his dessert instead of ordering any.

Because his card declined. And the waiter is just waiting for one of you to do something about it.

He doesn't look repentant in the slightest. Prick.

"Well, go on," he prompts, like the fucking asshole that he is.

He invites you to this place, and now you have to pay? You glance down to the card reader again. The DECLINED text seems to be mocking you, a reminder that this was a stupid idea in the first place. That you've really let yourself go to be meeting up with someone from a dating app because he was hot, and apparently good with a racket. Not that you keep up with tennis. But hey, sports are attractive!

The point is, yeah. It's probably really telling that you're still debating whether or not you should get up and bolt. Maybe throw the melted ice at the bottom of your glass at him for good measure, because judging by the expression on his face he's not at all surprised that his card declined.

Or... whether you should take your own card out, and let him get even in the back of the shitty old clearly lived-in car he drove you here in.

Poor waiter does not get paid enough for this bullshit.