Cheap Date

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• February 5, 2025

Admittedly, I’d become a serial dater in the month of January, year 2025. I had recently taken a break from online dating apps, but I was back with force. Of course, ultimately, I’m looking to fall in love, but I’m a cynic and I approach dating with a wry eye. Additionally, I have desires and thirsts that need satisfying like any human, so I am open to varying relationships while ultimately hunting for my true love.

Traveling is one of my favorite things to do. Mostly, I’ve been solo traveling to places in recent years. I think traveling to certain places alone enhances the experience. Though if you’re a woman traveling alone, you must always have some precautions and be savvy. This year, I’d really love to go to Italy. I’m half Italian, as Palminteri’s are Sicilian blood. Italians have the best food. That’s not up for debate. I love a lot of different types of food, but Italians do it best. And of course, there’s tons of history as all roads lead to Rome. Naturally, I want to travel to Italy, but I really don’t want to go to Italy alone. I will, if that’s what opportunity provides, and I’ll have a grand time. Italy will be much wining and dining which I would really love to have a companion for. And it doesn’t necessarily have to be romantic. In fact, I asked cousins to go with me but they just can’t at this time. But it would be lovely to have a romantic partner for Italy, so that was my goal of online dating. We may not marry, but how about a trip of a lifetime, sipping wine with the historic backdrop of the Amalfi coast, adorned with my quick wit— the laughs and kisses we’ll share in the worlds most beautiful place… it shouldn’t be THAT hard for me to find someone to do an Italy trip with me, right? RIGHT?!

Anyways. That’s why I was serial dating in January off Hinge. Trying to find someone lucky enough to travel to Europe with me, sharing a bed and bread. What a treat! I’m a goddamn delight.

I match with this dude we will refer to as A. He is 30, five years my junior, of Indian decent. Handsome, very good hair. So we meet for drinks in my hood of Astoria.

A is better dressed than me, which isn’t that hard, because I’m not huge into fashion. He has big gold rings (kind of a turn off for me), a great smile and he’s very energetic. He’s in his residency to be a psychiatrist. This is interesting to me, because I see a quack Medicaid psychiatrist and find psychology deeply interesting. He thinks it’s cool I’m a comedian (it is cool) and doesn’t make the mistake of asking me to tell him a joke (don’t ever do that to a comedian unless you want us to immediately hate you). He discloses that he is overwhelmed in his residency, so he’s not looking for anything serious, as he doesn’t think he can balance it. I say, I am looking for something more serious, I am older and quite finished with the dating games, but I have been close to people in a medical residency and I understand how demanding it is, so I get it. I figure, we can just see how things go.

We go to two bars. The first bar, he picks up the tab. The second bar, I throw down my credit card and pay. Now, normally, I wouldn’t even disclose this information as it’s not really important to me, but it will be somewhat pertinent later.

Look, I’m a fair person and am okay with splitting bills on dates. Even though I’m usually perpetually broke, a starving artist, I don’t expect to be paid for all the time. When on a date, if I know the dude is well off, I’ll let him pay.  But as a struggling artist, I’ve also dated other struggling artists, and am happy to split or pay if I can. But listen, it’s a good look for the man to pay the bill, always.

I didn’t even really think anything of it at the time. Medical residents do make shit money, I know. At least, though, they have the promise of making money and a career, unlike a writer like myself who will likely go on living penniless and only in my death will people declare, “she was quite a gifted writer, maybe someone should have paid her properly.” He drove out from Long Island (Nassau) for the date. The date ends, and I like him enough to give him my phone number (I do not give out my phone number on dating apps until I’ve met in person, as a rule), and a kiss goodnight.

The following week, he would blow up my phone. Constant texting. Sending me memes and pictures of things he was doing. I found this off-putting. Especially since he established he was looking for something more casual. I sent him back one word, cold responses. To which he replied, “I see you’re not that into texting, so I’ll tone it back a little.” It’s good to see he can read a room, but anyone in my inner circle knows I am quite the texter. If I like you, I will text you a lot. But mass texting after one date is red flag number one. Don’t do this! Don’t text too much after one meeting. It’s crazy.

The week goes on and he’s texting me like, “let me take you to dinner on Friday.” Weekends are tricky for us performers. I am not free. “Well then, Saturday, I’m taking you out to dinner.” I had a date scheduled with someone else. I told him straight up since he was looking for something casual, he would be bumped to coach, whereas more serious suitors would be treated first class. He begged to take me out Sunday, but I had plans with friends to watch football. Monday, however, would be a holiday, and I said I was looking to see the film “The Brutalist” in the afternoon, and he was welcomed to join me to see the movie and we could meet before for drinks/food, but that I had an early morning the next day so it wasn’t going to be a late night. This was a very clear message that there was not going to be any post movie play time. “IT’S NOT GOING TO BE A LATE NIGHT.” If he wanted to do another date, a chance of getting to know each other better, I would allow it. Nothing more.

He texted back, excited, “that sounds perfect! I’m so excited to see you again!”

Groovy.

Monday comes, he picks me up. In his car, in the cupholder, is a single wrapped rose in a water bottle.

“This is for you,” he says. I thank him, though, to be honest I find the gesture tacky. What are we doing? You brought a single rose? I thought you weren’t into serious? Weird. But whatever.

We go to a Mexican place near the theater. Before getting there, he asks if he can Venmo me money for the movie tickets, because I purchased them. I told him not to worry about it, he could get the food. He thanked me, and when we sat down, he said, “get whatever you want.” I remember this because I found it odd he was ‘granting me permission’ when I generally do just get what I want at a not at all expensive taco place.

The date ensues. Recently, he went to India for a cousins wedding and stayed in the best hotels and was bragging about the lavish trip. Now, he’s completely flipped his stance since we last met. He’s saying how he’s sick of Hinge and online dating and how he’d just like to spend more time with me, getting to know me, using language I found phony saying, “what’s the Lori story? I want to know all about the Lori story. And be part of Lori’s story.”

Bro… I’m right here, you don’t have to talk about me in third person. He was trying WAY too hard to lay on charm, and it was not working. We both got two margaritas and we split guac and a quesadilla. When the bill comes, he takes it, puts his card down, and then goes, “do you mind if we split this?”

I literally chuckled because I thought he was kidding. I mean… this guy was begging to take me out to dinner all week. He offered me money for the movie tickets. Our conversation was rather jokey, so I laughed. He paid that bill, I went to the restroom, then we went to the theater.

At the concession, he got a bottle of water and I got a bottle of iced tea and twirlers. He paid for this. We saw the critically acclaimed movie which was far longer than it needed to be, and after, we left chatting about the film. While I didn’t consider the date to be a disaster at this point, I had made up my mind that this was not someone I was interested in casually or otherwise. He definitely got the sense that this was our last date. He drops me off home, I thank him for dinner, take my rose and give him a kiss on the cheek. Oh well. Not everyone is a match for you. That’s life.

Inside my home, I dress for bed and brush my teeth. It’s been about 15 minutes since he’s dropped me off and I get a text message from him (which means he’s still driving home), saying… “hey, the dinner was $100 which is a lot for me right now because residency pays me so poorly and that India trip cost a lot of money. Do you mind sending me half the cost?”

I burst out laughing. This is some tacky shit. Because it’s not even about the money, you see. It’s because I didn’t invite him up to fuck me, and now he knows he’s not getting action and he wants a refund on the date. After love bombing me with words. He brought me a rose for Christ’s sake! Have some goddamn dignity. Take the L gracefully, and just be happy you got to spend the afternoon with a cool and cute chick. This isn’t simply about being cheap with money, this is someone who’s character is shallow.

Because I am a pretty decent person and I know what it’s like to be broke, I told him I’d Zelle him money (I prefer zelle over venmo). I Zelle him $30. Shortly after, I get another text… “um… you sent $30, but the bill was $100, so shouldn’t you have sent me $50?” So I explain that the movie tickets were $20 each, and I deducted that amount, since we’re nickel and dimming each other here. To which he replies these exact words…

“I hate my life.”

Okay, bro. First of all, don’t go on dates if you can’t afford to foot the bill for some margaritas and a quesadilla. You are 30! 30! You’re a man! Fucking act like it. Second, I’m deeply horrified you are going to be prescribing meds to people with mental problems, when you so clearly are out of touch with reality and have problems yourself. Be a genuine person, not this fake person you think girls will fall for. Sure, he was cute, but let me tell you something, I am way out of his league. Third, if you’re so broke, sell one of your flashy rings. I don’t feel bad for you!

At this point, I’m texting friends and we are dying laughing about this loser. I put a post on Facebook asking guys if they’ve ever Venmo requested money after a date, to which about hundred dudes called this guy an asshole (some were more empathetic and said it could depend on circumstance, but now that you have the details, you can come to your own conclusions). Pretty much everyone told me I should have not sent him that $30, but, like I said, I am a real renaissance woman.

The next day comes. I’m going through my email and I have an email from Capital One (my bank) telling me that someone is requesting money from me via Zelle. It’s this dude. He’s requesting $15, with a note saying that the concession drinks and snacks were $22, and he only got a water.

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me.

My friends and I are really laughing at this dude now. This just lacks any class whatsoever. $15?! $15?! For real? My friends are brutal and telling me I should start a GoFundMe for this guy to shame him. I decline the Zelle request.

Then, I get a text from him, “hey, don’t you think because I paid for my movie ticket that you should pay for your own snacks? It’s only fair.”

To which I replied, “I split the rose in half, but I didn’t have your address to send it to.”

And that was the last I heard from him. Which is for the best, for him. Remember, I write insults for a living. You DO NOT want to come at a comedian. If he made one other dumb ass remark, I would have verbally destroyed him. Good luck dating New York women, guy. I sincerely hope no woman ever touches your dick, because you are a dick.

Listen. I am no gold digger. I have dated rich guys who wanted to marry me, and if I did, I would have been set for life. I have dated guys as broke as I am. If I love you, I do not mind paying for you. If I love you, I will take care of you in any way I can. But if I’m going to have a casual, friends with benefits thing going? Then you damn well are taking me to great restaurants  and paying. And buy me some gifts while you’re at it. I work in entertainment… the line of men (some very attractive) who want casual sex from me is endless. Get the fuck out of here if you’re not going to treat me like a Queen, whether it’s in earnest love or casual fulfillment.

There is only one person I’d like to sincerely apologize to in all this. And that’s the patient who this guy likely stole that rose from in the hospital he works at.