Never.
Recently I have been hearing about a trend that I find even more terrifying than eating Tide Pods. More terrifying than those awful pearl-splattered jeans showing up in every Forever 21. More terrifying than straight couples asking queer couples, “so which one of you is the man?”
It’s the trend of lesbians splitting the bill on dates. Apparently, this is commonplace amongst my new Brooklyn queer squad of friends, and I find this deeply disturbing. Luckily I have mostly dated lesbians that understand the f*cking rules of society, and have paid for me, or let me pay for them. But I have recently encountered this concerning trend, and it, in the words of Jenny Schecter, made me feel “completely dismantled.” Here’s why I will never ever split a bill on a date, no matter how much you may try to convince me it’s the “evolved” thing to do:
1. We are going on a DATE. YOU are trying to court ME. I am trying to court YOU.
That means that we are going to do shit to impress each other. That means I am going to groom myself, have at least three panic attacks, look and smell beautiful, and likely wear something black and strappy with lots of cleavage. That means you should pay the check. Or if you’re equally as dyke princess-y as me (I am a raging narcissist and can’t help but want to date girls just like me sometimes) we are both gonna be decked out, but ONLY ONE OF US SHOULD PAY CAUSE THIS IS A DATE AND DATES SHOULD NEVER BE SPLIT.
2. Do you know how much it f*cking costs for a femme like me to get ready?
Let me break it down for you:
Spray tan: $50
Eyelash fill: $50
Blowout: $25
Manicure: $10
New outfit: $25-100
Brazilian Wax: $50
Makeup: $50
Eyebrow threading: $12
Eyebrow tinting: $20
Full face threading (I am Italian and hairy AF): $30
Lingerie set: $75
And I always tip at least 20% or more.
I think you can pay for my three glasses of Champagne. Or better yet, order a bottle.
3. Splitting the bill is unsexy.
I can literally feel my vagina drying up at the thought of it.
4. I work to sleep with you, you should work to sleep with me.
I’m stressed AF over here trying to simultaneously calm my nerves, and be sexy and seductive while being my true loser self all while I’m shook by how hot you are. I’ll probably anxiously reapply lipstick and perfume and examine my vagina for toilet paper (if you haven’t done this you’re lying) in the bathroom if I think we’re vibing. While I’m gone doing my weird neurotic pre-sex ritual, you should pay the check.
5. This is not about gender roles.
This isn’t about who is masculine and who is feminine. This is about someone wanting to TREAT the person they want to impress. I pay for some first dates. I love spoiling a lady. It depends on the vibe. Isn’t that the fun of dating? One of my favorite things about dating women is finding out how we are going to mesh. A femme could be super toppy, and want to cater to me. Or I could be sure that the leather jacket-clad girl I matched with on Bumble was going to dominate me, but then the roles are reversed and all of a sudden it’s so hot that I’m taking the lead. It’s a journey. A f*cking hot one. One that should begin with only one person paying the bill.
6. Or maybe it is, so f*cking sue me.
Is it so bad to want to be treated like a princess?
7. I’m easy!
I have no qualms about sleeping with a girl on the first date. I’m wearing super sexy lingerie, you should pay for our cheese plate.
8. I’m a fun date.
I’m interesting, I’m funny, I’m a little awkward and anxious but it’s cute, and I want to know all about you!
9. If you even hint at splitting, I will dramatically give the waiter my card to show I AM NOT A BILL SPLITTER.
It’s not about me wanting a free meal. It’s about me wanting this to clearly be a date. And on dates, one person treats. That’s the point. Last month, I had one date where she asked if I wanted to split. I treated because I’m not a savage, then I ghosted her.
10. I’ll pay next time, princess promise!
You alternate, duh. It’s so much better than splitting and it essentially works out the same, only it’s way chicer and sexier.
So, lesbians, please, I can’t believe I have to tell you this, but pay for your f*cking dates. xoxo!
