The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,18
pair of tights and a big-old cock as an insignia across his chest. Great now I’m wondering if he has a big...
“You don’t know anything about me, Conor.” Except that I’m apparently vagina-non-grata to the entire male species—Cockapoo and man-wolf alike.
“Oh but I do.”
“That’s funny, cause I’m pretty sure I just met you. Didn’t know you were a famous male influencer and a psychic who can see both past and future. You’re versatile.”
He doesn’t smile or break what I’m pretty sure at this point is a full out WWE heel character. He just doubles down on whatever chapter from whatever book of his he’s preaching from. “Can I take a shot?”
I’m going to regret this. “Go for it. It’s been too long since I’ve had my mind read.”
“You have a small battalion of ex boyfriends. More than your friends, even. Am I warm?”Scalding hot on a number of levels, actually. “Don’t answer, it’s fine. Your silence speaks for you. And those guys I mentioned—complete tools, right? Your relationship history is a long list of two week boyfriends, one night stands, and long term disappointments. Warmer?”
Wow. He’s a dick but he’s not wrong.
“Maybe. But so what?”
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not your fault.” Gee, thanks for the validation Conor. “But it does prove my point. You’ve only ever been with neutered little dogs who don’t know how to act. That’s never going to end well.”
“Can we stop saying I’ve been with dogs? Sounds like something you can get arrested for.”
He finally smiles even though I’m not trying to. He’s beautiful when he smiles and it’s kind of making me wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
“You got it. But like I said, most women have never seen a real man.”
“Like you?”
“Like anyone who follows my system—when women meet one of us, they either let their bodies do the thinking for them, or they run away because it’s the first time they’re seeing what a man really is, and they’re afraid.”
Vomit is rising in my throat. I keep telling it to stay down but it won’t listen. I can’t throw up here anyhow, he’d probably pull out his phone and start live vlogging the whole incident. “And what is a real man, exactly?”
“Confident. Masculine. Unafraid to do the things men like to to, and unapologetic for wanting what men want.”
I’m going to regret asking this next question. “And what are those things?”
“Power. Money. Women. Not necessarily in that order.”
“Power, money and women? Really? That’s what all men want?”
“Yes. That’s what all men want. And the ones you think ‘aren’t like that’ are just those betas I told you about before—the ones who are afraid to be themselves because society will label them ‘toxic’ or some other silly adjective.”
“I think I need a drink for the rest of this conversation.”
He waves the waitress over so I can order. I get a glass of wine and hope that she brings me the highest alcohol content vintage available, but I’m not lucky like that. I know I’m getting the weak stuff that’ll require three glasses to forget all the crap that just invaded my ears.
“Do I make you want to drink?” he jokes.
You make me want to do a lot of things, Conor, but I’m not gassing you up any more by telling you that.
“Just been a long day,” I lie so well. “And was that you being a man and doing ‘what men do’ just now?”
“You mean calling the waitress over? No, that has nothing to do with gender—but if you mean taking control of the situation, that is something that I enjoy doing. Do you like when a man takes control?”
This conversation is taking a weird turn in my head. I’m supposed to be disgusted by what he just asked me because he’s obviously implying sex—but the key word there is ‘supposed’—what’s actually happening to my body when he talks about taking control is way different than what my mind wants to be thinking.
When he asks me that, my whole body heats up—literally. I feel like my cheeks are getting flush and I can’t blame the alcohol because I haven’t had any yet! I think about him. . . naked, controlling more than just the course of our meal. Holy shit, snap out of it!
“I know this might sound crazy to you, but I’m actually capable of raising my hand up in the air in a manner that will gain a server’s attention. I’ve done it a few times—they come over and everything. They