On our first date, a man called me fat and pathetic and humiliated me in front of the entire restaurant. But my revenge made him regret everything 
I met him on a dating site. He seemed like exactly the man I’d been waiting for: intelligent, polite, able to write beautifully and charm with words.
We could chat for hours on end, and I caught myself smiling at my phone screen as I reread his messages. He made me feel needed, special.
When he finally asked me out, I accepted without hesitation. My heart was pounding, and I carefully prepared: I picked out my best dress, curled my hair, and put on my makeup. I thought this evening would change my life.
I walked into the restaurant with a slight smile, trying to look confident. But as soon as I saw him at the table, everything changed. He greeted me neither with joy nor warmth, but with a long, disdainful gaze, sliding up and down me. His eyes were cold and disgusted, as if he were dealing with something unpleasant, not a woman.
I felt my hands tremble, but I still approached the table, trying not to show it. However, he didn’t even try to hide his attitude.
“What are you wearing?” he grimaced, examining my dress. “Your sides are all sticking out, your belly is showing. Aren’t you disgusted?”
I froze, as if something had snapped in my chest.
“I’m wearing the best I own,” I replied quietly.
He burst out laughing, so loudly that everyone in the room turned to look at us.
“So this is your best? My God, then I’m afraid to even imagine what the rest of you are wearing.
I stood there, tears welling up in my eyes, but he didn’t stop:
“Why did you even write to me? Do you think people like me date people like you? I’ll tell you right now: I’m not going to pay for you. It’s enough for me that I saw you in person—and I already regret it.”
He spoke loudly, in a harsh, venomous tone, deliberately making sure everyone around him could hear. His words hit harder than slaps. I couldn’t understand: was this the same man I’d spent nights talking to before? The one who wrote about romance, dreams, and how he liked me? A completely different person sat before me—cruel and vile.
“Darling, I miss you, I want to see you…” he mimicked me in a nasty voice. “And that’s why you wanted to see me? So I could look at your pathetic face? I’m disgusted even sitting next to you!”
At that moment, something inside me snapped. Instead of tears, anger came. I didn’t want to be his victim anymore.
And unexpectedly, I did something I don’t regret at all.
A waiter walked past with a tray on which a steaming bowl of red, spicy tom yum was lying. I abruptly snatched it straight from the tray, and before he could even comprehend what was happening, I poured the entire contents over his head.
There was a squeal and a scream, he jumped up, clutching his face, and the smell of spices and hot herbs filled the entire room. People froze, then someone chuckled.
I straightened up, summoning all my pride, and, looking down at him, said coldly:
“A man will pay for everything.”
And, raising my head, I slowly and confidently walked out of the restaurant, leaving him in a wet suit, to the laughter and surprised glances of the guests.
