The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,19

even call me ‘miss’ and then ask me what I’d like. And here I am, no dick and I can still wave another human over.”

I’ll give it to him, he’s a cool customer. I’ve given him nothing but shit since I ran into him and he hasn’t broken his façade yet. I guess he’s used to criticism by this point and he knows how to defend his tactics, but still, there’s something there under the surface that I’m not fully seeing.

“Noted,” he says. “Next time I’ll let you wave the lady over, no dick and all.”

“Next time? You think there’s going to be a next time?”

He doesn’t answer, he just changes topics on me like he never said that last line. “Oh, I meant to ask you, what are you doing at VidCon? Are you assisting someone?”

Okay, two reasons I’m offended right now. First, why do I have to be someone’s assistant? And second, this guy still doesn’t recognize me? I mean, he basically called me out as being a troll over his very popular social media and he doesn’t even remember? I’m offended, I’m outraged, I’m. . . “Yeah, exactly.” I’m going to lie. Why did I lie?

“Is this your first one?”

Shit. Now I have to come up with another lie. “Ummm. . . no, its not. I assist Tori, actually.”

“Women on D*cks Tori?”

Awesome. He knows her and not me. “Yup, the one and only.”

“You know, I thought you looked familiar. I’m a big fan of Tori’s—her ideas are whacky as hell when it comes to men and women, but I respect her following. Tell her I said hi, will ya?”

“Sure will.” You smug asshole.

The waitress brings the wine and I drink it way too fast. There’s no swirling of the glass, no deep inhale to smell the oak or whatever bullshit you’re supposed to smell, and definitely no sipping.

“Go easy. I’m not that bad to sit and talk with, am I?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Not as bad as I thought considering what I just witnessed at that meet and greet, but the night is still young.”

“Indeed it is. But let’s get back to that. You have a problem with what I do?”

“No, it’s totally legit.” I’m being my most sarcastic. “Preaching that men need to be men and women need to. . .”

“Hold up,” he interjects, cutting me off. I guess this is him taking control again. “I want to make something completely clear—a common misconception about me and what I do.”

“Alright.”

“I don’t have anything to say about women or what women should or shouldn’t do. I’m not some caveman. Me preaching that men shouldn’t be afraid of their essential nature doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in women’s rights. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

“I think they contradict each other, actually.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because if men are always in control, and always there to dominate, that means women have to be subordinate.”

“Not at all. Remember what I said all men want before?”

“Yeah. Women, power, and money.”

“Notice that I didn’t say that men should dominate anyone—unless women want to be dominated that is, which is never a bad thing in the bedroom.”

Dammit, why did you have to go there? Now I’m picturing all sorts of things. . . there might be a whip involved.

“So then getting the women and the power and money—that all comes from doing what?”

“Having the courage to not be ashamed that you want those things in the first place. And then actually having the balls to go out and get them.”

“Get them?” I ask. “It sounds like you’re out hunting when you put it that way.”

“It’s not about hunting, it’s about having the qualities that will attract women. Same with job opportunities. If you’re strong, confident, and have leadership qualities, jobs are more likely to hire you—then you’re more likely to climb the ranks in those organizations. You get the idea.”

I hate the fact that he seems to be making sense—but still, I’m not buying any of this.

“I get the idea.” He orders a drink. “Whiskey man, huh? Is that part of your men-being-men thing?”

“Actually, for once, no. I just like whiskey. I always have.”

We keep talking and he keeps drinking—our talking mostly consists of me criticizing his brand and forcing him to defend himself, which he’s doing a really good job of. That’s what’s going on in reality, in the front of my mind. The back of my mind—the secret part, is still playing somewhere between the phrases ‘taking control’ and ‘domination’.

I