"There are some men who just won't take no for an answer. Those men should have deeper pockets."

A friend once asked me if it’s worse that a guy is broke or that he’s cheap. In which case I replied, “Who cares? Either way, it won’t work.”

Months ago, I met a guy named James at a friend's party. He's wasn't really my type—for starters, we were all headed to a fabulous night out on the town, and he wore sneakers. Manhattan, my dear, does not play that. So to me, that was flag number one. Flag number two, and I knew this was a borderline deal breaker for me, was that he didn't bring any cash with him that night. None whatsoever. That means he couldn't pay, let alone chip in for the cab ride there, nor could he pay the measly $10 cover to get into the club. He even had the audacity to become upset with the group for “leaving him” while he begrudgingly walked to the ATM, inserting irreverent and inappropriate remarks into our conversations later on that night. Dude, we don’t even know you. Whatever, I was over it.


Anyhow, recently he’d been bugging me to hang out with him. I didn’t really want to—he’s cheap, and physically, I’m just honestly not that attracted to him. He’s got that whole body of a God, face from Hell thing going on, and really, who has the time? Anyhow, earlier this week he guilted me into going out with him, so I finally said yes. He then sent me an email with a bar near my house he thought I may like. “Fine, whatever,” I thought to myself. He proceeded to (get this!) email me a coupon for the bar, asking me what I thought about the discount. A coupon for a bar. Wow. He must’ve been on a roll because he then sent me another email saying that we should forego that bar because the fine print said he was only allowed to use one coupon for our table. Double Wow. I then rescinded my acceptance to this splendid date and instead opted for much needed quality time with my couch and television. Hey—I can’t help it if they miss me.


Why I somehow fell for stopping by James’ place last night I’ll never know. Well, I do kind of know—I was bored and he invited me over. Regardless, I must say that to my surprise, he had a really nice apartment. Even—dare I say—a bit extravagant. And upon conversing with him, he boastfully mentioned that he had a well-paying job in the technology field. Why, then, do you fail to bring cash when you go out, then offer to take me on a date but only if you can use multiple coupons?


Our night ended up going ok; that is, until I went home. It was late and he lives pretty far from me, but instead of offering some sort of assistance with my getting home, he asks me if I’m going to take the bus. Nice. And when he walks me outside to hail a cab, he lets me haggle the price with the cabbie all by my lonesome, and doesn’t say a word. But I’m on to him—he knows that saying a word could result in him spending a few dollars. Out of the question.


On the way home, the cab driver asked me if that was my boyfriend, and literally sighed relief when I said no. “You don’t need a guy like that, keeping you out late like this and he’s not even your boyfriend.” Mr. Cabbie, I think you’re right.