Our third date was supposed to be perfect — candlelight, wine, and real connection. Susan and I had met on Tinder, and things were going great. I’d chosen a quiet Italian restaurant, set for the kind of night that could lead to something more. But just as we settled in, disaster walked through the door: Linda, my colleague from accounting — and her three kids. Without invitation,

she sat at our table.Susan, understandably confused, watched as Linda casually said, “You promised to watch the kids tonight — and here you are, with her?” I was floored. “Linda, I never—” Susan stood up, furious. Linda dropped a bomb: “He’s been leading me and the kids on for months.” Susan stormed out. My night — maybe my shot with her — was over. I turned to Linda in disbelief, but she simply said, “You should thank me.” Then she pulled out her phone and showed me something shocking — a mugshot of Susan. “She’s wanted for fraud,”Linda explained. “My brother’s a cop. I recognized her from your Instagram post and rushed over.” The room spun. Susan had been conning men like me, and Linda, wild as her entrance was, had just saved me from being her next victim. As I processed it all, her oldest son piped up, “Are we getting pizza or what?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Can I buy you dinner?”
I asked Linda. “After all that?” she teased. “Yeah. You’ve earned it.” MTwo years later, we’re still together. I’ve adopted her kids, and we’re a family. And yes — she still says I owe her for that night. Every day, I agree.