Sometimes I’ll go out to a restaurant with a fine young woman. And I’ll pay for dinner for the two of us. No big deal, a couple of apps, couple of entrees. Some dessert if we’re in a sweet mood. Then afterward maybe I stop up at her place for a “cup of coffee.” We all know that it’s not really for a “cup of coffee.” We know that the real reason we go upstairs is to screw. The next morning, she gets woken up by the clanging of my belt buckle, as I put on my pants. Squinting in the light of morning she says, “Where are you going?” And I’m like, “I gotta go, I’ll call you.”

The upshot is that since I paid the check at dinnner, then we went “all the way,” the woman is no more than a common street whore. And I refuse to objectify any woman this way. I don’t believe in paying for sex. Which is why I’ll never again pay for a woman’s dinner.