The man humiliated me in front of the entire restaurant on our first date by calling me fat and pathetic, but I got back at him, and he regretted everything 
On a dating site, I met him. He seemed like the man I had been looking for: well-mannered, cultured, and capable of courting me verbally and writing lovely texts.
We could chat for hours on end, and as I read his messages again, I couldn’t help but smile at my phone. I felt unique and needed with him.
I immediately answered “yes” when he finally asked me out. My heart was racing, so I took great care to get ready, putting on my nicest clothes, curling my hair, and applying cosmetics. I believed that this night would transform my life.
I tried to look confident as I walked into the restaurant with a small smile. However, everything changed when I spotted him at the table. He greeted me with a long, disdainful glance that swept over my entire body rather than with warmth or joy. There was distaste and coldness in his eyes, as though he were staring at something disagreeable instead of a lady.
Even though I could feel my hands shaking, I tried not to show it as I headed to the table. He made no effort to conceal his attitude.
He looked at my clothing and scoffed, “What did you even put on?” “Your tummy is visible, and your sides are protruding. Don’t you feel embarrassed?
Something felt like it had cracked inside my chest, and I froze.
I said softly, “I wore the best I have.”
He laughed so loudly that the tables next to us turned to watch us.
That’s your best, then? My God, I can’t even begin to think the number of other rags you possess.
Even though I was crying as I stood there, he continued:
“What made you message me at all? Do you believe that ladies like you date men like me? To be clear, I will not cover the cost of you. I already regret seeing you in person, which is plenty.
He intentionally shouted loudly, harshly, and venomously so that everyone could hear. He spoke with more force than a smack. Was this the same man I had spoken to at night? I couldn’t make sense of it. The one who claimed to like me and wrote about romance and dreams? A totally other person, nasty and repulsive, was sitting in front of me.
“I want to see you, baby, I miss you,” he sarcastically said. And you wanted to meet for that reason? In order for me to gaze upon your pitiful face? Even sitting next to you disgusts me!
Something inside of me clicked at that very instant. Anger replaced the tears. I no longer wanted to be his victim. And to my own surprise, I did something that I have no regrets about.
A waiter passed by carrying a platter with a steaming bowl of spicy, scarlet tom yum on top. I grabbed it off the tray and dumped the whole thing over his head before he could respond.
He sprung up, clutching his face as the hall filled with yells and shrieks, and the scent of heat and spices filled the air. Then someone snickered, and everyone froze.
I pulled myself together, looked down at him, and remarked icily:
“Everything will be covered by the gentleman.”
Then, in the face of the patrons’ shocked expressions and laughing, I raised my chin and left him in his wet suit as I left the restaurant slowly and boldly.
