I remember feeling both excited and nervous that day. I was meeting Sarah, a girl I had been chatting with online for a few weeks. We had fun conversations about our favorite movies and shared some funny stories from our past relationships. So, when she suggested we finally meet in person, I happily agreed. She insisted on going to this fancy place in town, which made me pause a little because I normally don’t dine at expensive restaurants. Still, I thought maybe she wanted to make a good impression—or maybe she really loved high-end food. Either way, I said yes, hoping our connection would grow even stronger in person.

The restaurant was called Silver Heights. It had a stylish look, with dim lighting, leather chairs, and big chandeliers overhead. Soft music played in the background, giving the whole place a classy vibe. I wore a clean, button-up shirt and ironed pants, feeling a bit out of my comfort zone but wanting to look nice. When I arrived, Sarah was already seated at a table near the back, scrolling on her phone. She barely glanced up as I approached.

“Hi, Sarah,” I said, smiling, hoping for a warm welcome.

She nodded slightly, eyes still glued to her screen. “Oh hey,” she replied, sounding distracted. “I’ll just be a minute.”

I stood there awkwardly before a waitress came over and handed me a menu, motioning for me to sit down. I took a seat across from Sarah and cleared my throat, trying to break the ice. “So… nice place, huh? Have you been here before?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, once or twice,” she murmured, her fingers still tapping on the phone.

The waitress, a friendly woman with a bright smile, introduced herself as Mia. She asked if we’d like to start with drinks. Sarah looked up for the first time, scanned the drink menu, and picked a fancy cocktail that cost fifteen dollars. She didn’t even blink at the price. I, on the other hand, was mindful of my budget, so I just ordered a soda.

Once Mia left, Sarah mumbled something about her day at work. But then her phone rang, and she answered it without hesitation. I sat there, sipping my soda, feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t just a short call—she kept talking for minutes, laughing, and giving one-word glances in my direction as if apologizing, but never truly acknowledging me. When she hung up, she made no mention of who she was talking to or why it was so important. Instead, she opened the menu and pointed to an appetizer that was twenty-five dollars. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. I had seen appetizers go for ten or twelve bucks, but twenty-five was a first.

She casually said, “I’ll have the truffle fries with cheese. They’re so good here,” then snapped the menu shut like it was no big deal. Next, she looked at the entrées. The moment she mentioned the forty-five dollar steak, I had to swallow hard. I felt my wallet shrink in my pocket. She ordered that, too, and then turned back to her phone while I stared at the menu, trying to find the cheapest dish that wouldn’t make me look cheap. I ended up picking a chicken dish that cost about sixteen dollars.

Mia came back, took our orders, and left again. Meanwhile, Sarah tapped away on her phone, texting rapidly. I attempted small talk, asking about her job, her family, her hobbies. She answered me in the briefest manner, never once putting her phone down. A few times, she’d say, “Hold on,” and then she’d accept another phone call. She giggled, whispered, “I’m at dinner, can I call you back?” but then continued talking anyway.

The appetizer arrived—those truffle fries with cheese. The smell was delicious, and they looked amazing. But Sarah made no move to share. She just pulled the plate closer to her side and picked at them slowly as she scrolled on her phone. I watched, feeling more awkward by the minute. Mia passed by, noticed the strange vibe, and gave me a sympathetic look. She smiled softly, probably sensing I was uncomfortable.

When the entrées arrived, Sarah got her steak, which looked fantastic: juicy, cooked to perfection, with a side of fancy mashed potatoes. I had my simple chicken dish, which was fine. But the entire time we ate, she kept answering texts. Her phone vibrated every two minutes, it seemed. I tried to ask how her steak was, but she just raised a finger as if saying, “Wait,” while she typed away.

Finally, Mia came by to see how things were going. She looked at my plate, saw I hadn’t eaten much, and quietly asked if everything was alright. I forced a small smile and nodded, not wanting to cause a scene. Mia nodded knowingly, then whispered, “Let me know if you need anything.” She cleared a few empty dishes and walked away.

As Sarah finished her steak, I began to wonder what sort of person I was really dealing with. She seemed more engaged with her phone than with me. I couldn’t imagine going on a second date like this. Plus, the bill was going to be huge. I dreaded seeing the total.

At last, Sarah placed her phone down—only because her battery had died, from what she said—and leaned back, looking bored. Mia returned with the check. “Here you are,” she said, then quietly slipped me a small note with the bill. Sarah wasn’t paying attention, so she didn’t see it.

I opened the note under the table. It read: “I’m so sorry this date isn’t going well. Don’t worry about paying for everything by yourself. I can split the bill so you only cover your meal. Just say the word.”

My eyes widened with relief. It felt like Mia was giving me a lifeline. I looked up and saw her standing by the register, giving me an encouraging nod. Sarah was busy rummaging through her purse, likely looking for her credit card or something else.

I quickly stood up and walked over to Mia, who processed the separate checks for us. She made sure Sarah’s total reflected only the items she ordered, and mine showed just the soda and the chicken dish. Then I returned to the table, handed Sarah her bill, and said, “Looks like they split the check for us. Isn’t that convenient?”

Sarah glanced at me with mild surprise. She shook her head, mumbled something about how she expected me to cover everything, then tossed her card on the table. I paid for my portion, thanked Mia with a grateful smile, and left the place as soon as we were done. Sarah barely said goodbye before storming off, still tapping on her phone which had somehow revived.

Driving home, I couldn’t stop thinking about how the night went. It was disappointing, but also oddly freeing. At least now I knew what she was like. I also felt thankful for Mia, the waitress who noticed my discomfort and did something to help. Not everyone would go out of their way for a stranger. Maybe, in a weird way, I was lucky that the date turned out like this—better to see someone’s true colors on the first meeting than to waste more time.

Now here’s my question for you: if you were on a date and realized the other person was more interested in their phone than talking to you—and they expected you to pay for everything—how would you handle it?