Before the Russian Lover, I had not gone on many traditional dates in my life; I've had more "involvements" than boyfriends, but neither these involvements nor boyfriends were big on taking a woman out to wine and dine her. They wanted to play video games, or go see unsuccessful bands perform in dirty venues, maybe drink some beer and scratch their balls, and then make out. With guys like this, I didn't feel like they considered me a woman; I felt like I was just in a special category of "dude." I was a dude with boobs.
Eventually I started going on more first dates with relative strangers, and I noticed more effort from these men. These guys bothered to shower before we met; they had credit cards and could pay for dinner. True, they were about as exciting as a No. 2 pencil. None of them thrilled me with conversation or sexual prowress; nevertheless, they raised the bar. I realized that men were eager to try, and it was financially and socially expedient for me to allow them to try as hard as they could.
I went on a reasonably successful first date with someone I'd casually gotten to know, and then decided I was bored enough to bring him back home with me after dinner. He'd been a gentleman all evening, footing the bill and bringing the wine and opening the door. So when he asked me to lunch a few days later, I was expecting similiar treatment.
When the check came, I sat politely. He looked at it, pulled out some cash, and pushed the check toward me. I was confused, mumbled something about a tip, and then he said "Oh, but I'm not paying for this whole thing." I looked at him in surprise. He looked back with equal surprise. "What, you thought I was going to pay for this? We're just out as friends."
"Well, you did ask me to lunch," I said. He became huffy, and I threw down a few dollars and resisted the urge to slap the suddenly queeny expression off his face.
Of course, the "just friends" line only came out with the lunch check, and was forgotten the second we were alone together. But I hadn't forgotten, and he was shocked to learn that he had been completely cut off. Because you pull that shit on a woman, and she will be happy to put you back in the "just friends" category. If "just friends" means that you now split the tab, it also means that you're now the guy who gets to hear all about the men she is fucking who aren't you.
Some men like to use the "just friends" card as a way to get a date for half-price. However, with real friends, and with real men who are real lovers, tabs are something that can go either way but are rarely split. The guy who splits the bill sends one of two signals; either he is so repulsed by the female's company that he wants to penalize her for wasting his time, or he is a guy who wants a discount more than he wants a woman. The latter should be walked out on and stuck with the bill, but not before they are told that, as long as they are not too picky about body hair or herpes, the hourly rate for a woman these days is within any man's means -- even theirs.