The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,34

name?”

“Beth.”

“Nice to meet you, Beth. Like I said, I’m Shoshana and I have a vlog called The Boyfriend Designer, where I ask women about their perfect man, and I was wondering if you’d like to answer three questions really quickly.”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds fun.”

“Great. Okay, question 1 - Describe your perfect man, physically and non-physically.”

Beth was a thinker. She took like thirty seconds of camera time—which I’m going to edit out because who wants to watch someone think in silence for thirty seconds—before she answered.

“At least 6 foot 3, brown hair, brown eyes, a college degree—preferably a masters degree or higher, I want him to make over $150,000 per year, and he has to know how to dress.”

“Interesting—he sounds hot. Now, time for question two—in what romantic comedy universe would you like your relationship with dream man to take place?”

“Oh, that’s easy, Pretty Woman. That’s one of my favorites of all time.”

“Mine too!” I lied. I’ve never seen the whole movie before. “Last one, then I’ll let you go. What is one thing you’d want perfect boyfriend to know about you that would make your relationship last?”

More thinking. Beth loves to overthink fictitious situations. “Ummm. . . that just like Julia Roberts, I’m not above having a sugar daddy.”

“Oh,” I said. You can literally hear the judgement in my ‘oh’, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way. “Well, thanks, Beth. Make sure you subscribe to The Boyfriend Designer so you can see this video and share on social media.”

I let Beth go, then asked a bunch of other women coming off a train, most of who looked at me crazy and one who yelled at me to, how did she put it? Get my fucking camera out of her face. She was kinda scary so I stopped recording for a second until I found some nice women who stopped and did my mini interview.

I finish showing Tori the video and she goes right back into her book thing. “See, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“What?” I ask.

“Listen to what they said. So Beth wanted a tall, well educated, well dressed rich guy, right?”

“Yeah. After twenty seconds of hard thinking that’s what her boyfriend design was.”

“And that second lady, what did she say?”

“Maryanne? She said that she didn’t care about looks that much except she wanted him to have dark hair and preferably a little long. Personality wise she said ‘cool, laid back, confident, into music.’”

“Right, and what was her rom-com universe?”

“10 Things I Hate About You.”

“And that third woman, Cassidy?”

“Cassidy said she wanted a tall blonde guy who was a little mysterious, could be brave when he needed to be, and like adventure and doing fun things outdoors.”

“And her rom-com?”

“The Princess Bride. Why? What’s your. . . oh.”

It clicks as soon as I say it, and I’m guessing Tori saw that pattern right away.

“See?”

“Basically every single woman is describing the male main character from each of their favorite movies—Richard Gere as the well-dressed rich sugar daddy, Carey Elwes as the swashbuckling hero in Princess Bride. . .”

“I love that movie.”

“Me too.” This time I’m not lying. I love me some Princess Bride.

“You are so Buttercup, by the way.”

“What? No way.” I’m protesting but then I remember how hot Robin Wright looked in that movie I shut my stupid mouth. “You think I look like her?”

“I actually wasn’t talking about looks. I mean, you look like her, but that’s not what I meant.”

I furrow my brows. “What did you mean, then?”

“I was actually thinking of the book by William Goldman. Have you ever read it?”

“You know I’m starting to think that you’re a little obsessed with books.”

“That’s a possibility, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Nope,” I admit. “Never read it.”

“It’s different in a lot of ways. She’s way more scatterbrained and ditsy in the book, but she’s actually smart underneath it all. It’s hard to explain.”

“I see. So, I’m ditsy but really smart?”

“You know it’s true, don’t be fake offended.”

“I think we might be breaking up, you and me. This relationship is getting toxic. You’re kind of verbally abusive.” We both giggle. “But you’re right, I’m sooo Buttercup.”

“So does that make Conor Durden Wesley, then?”

Oh. No. She. Didn’t. “Now we’re definitely breaking up. I can’t believe that you just. . .”

“Told the truth?” she asks, interrupting me and smiling a little too widely.

“It’s a question, actually, and no, he’d be Wesley if Wesley was a total douche and sold his own line of Dread Pirate Roberts butt wipes. I don’t