Build-a-Boyfriend Workshop

So… What do you think about getting a boyfriend?

I frowned, somewhat thrown off-guard by the question that blinked at me on the computer screen.
“I don’t really think much of it,” I admitted, typing the response back. “It’s something I haven’t thought about, really.”

Lexi, my dear friend didn’t take long to reply back to the chat.
So you’re not against having one, but you’re not looking. she said.

“Hmm… I guess. And there’s nothing wrong with that… right?” I questioned, shifting the laptop over my knees.

No, there’s nothing wrong with it, I guess lol! she replied. But I’m curious… what would your ideal boyfriend be like?

“My ideal?” I echoed.

My friend immediately started typing back at rapid speed.
Like if you can customize a boyfriend, what qualities would you want?
Do you have a type?
A style?
Oh! How about a celebrity crush?

My friend persistently interrogated me on my preferences for the rest of our conversation. It was as if she missed the wedding recap.
It was getting late into the night and I used my need of sleep as an excuse to end the conversation. I bid her goodnight and closed my laptop with a tired sigh. I knew she meant well, it was just…all things I’ve never really considered. A boyfriend? A type?

I suppose the idea of a significant other had some ideal points and benefits; why else would people be obsessed with the idea of finding themselves a partner? All the people I’ve known to have met someone special, they always seemed happy about it… well, until they fought about something. Besides the point.
If I had a boyfriend, would I be happier?

I felt a frown tug the corner of my lips, deep thought gathering wrinkles on my brow.
Am I unhappy right now? With the way things are?

I took the time to quickly reflect on my life, building a small timeline in my head of the past few years. Then I went over it again. And again. A list of all things good in my life was being compiled as if my brain was gathering documented evidence of my happiness.

I have a clean bill of health. Check.
Great loving family and pet. Check.
I had a roof over my head, a bed to sleep. Check, and check.
I have access to clean water. Gratefully check.
Access to education and opportunities. Clean clothes. Food…
Internet and Netflix. Holy shit, I am blessed.

“I’m happy.” I tried to say out loud, testing the phrase in the air. “I am happy.”

The words had no impact, giving me little to no convincing.
“I am moderately happy.” I adjusted, again to the empty space.

Nothing again.
“I am… somewhat happy?”

Nada. Not a single note of credibility. Immediate rumbling rage started to cook in me and I wanted to smack myself.
“Wow, you ungrateful piece of shit.” I murmured lowly.

What else could you possibly want or have to feel happy?! I screamed internally at myself. So far, you have never broken a bone in your body, knock on wood. You’ve gone to Disneyland a few times. You have few but great friends that are more than you deserve…

I turned around and found my phone on my bed. There was only one person I could really consult about this. Someone with wisdom and experience…
I scooped up my phone as I sat down on my bed, quickly scrolled down through the contact list. I found the person I was looking for and pressed ‘CALL’.
The standard two rings sounded before a sharp click followed.

“Hi,” a tired voice greeted me, sounding somewhat irritated. “You have until my chicken nuggets finishes cooking to interest me in this conversation. Go.”

“Hey Judge.” I returned. I was somewhat reluctant to even bring up the topic I had to present, but I had already called and was now at the point of no return.
I heard some jangling commotion of Judge rummaging through her kitchen on the other end and I let out a heavy sigh. “Judge, can I ask you a question?”

Almost immediately, all the noise stopped. Several seconds went by with no response.
“It’s not anything serious, don’t panic,” I added.

A loud crash came through; I think she threw something.
“Goddammit, dude.” Judge grumbled. “Next time say that first. Are you trying to kill me?”

“Sorry, sorry…” I apologized.

“So… you have a question…” she prompted.

“Yea. And the question is…” Goddammit, why didn’t I think about the wording of the question in advance? “How… how does it feel to be in a relationship?”

“Relationship…” Judge echoed. “By that, I am assuming you mean of romantic sorts.”

“Yea…”

“Well… I may be a bit out of practice, but if I had to describe it, I guess it’s kinda like getting a best friend. It’s basically like being in a best friend relationship where you both mutually wanna make out with and bone.”

“Eloquently placed, Judge,” I noted dryly. “You are like a poet with words.”
“That I am,” Judge concurred.

“But, is there a difference?” I asked.
“Difference?”
“What I mean by that is…” I struggled to find the words to the question I had in mind. “Is there a difference in happiness?”
When she didn’t respond right away, I scrambled.
“Like, is happily in a relationship different from being happily single?”

Judge hummed thoughtfully.
“I mean… it depends, I think. If you’re unhappy in a relationship, it’s a sign something should change. Inversely, you shouldn’t go into a relationship with the sole purpose of finding happiness.” she said. “It’s the same as friendships in this regard. And even if you’re happy with your partner, you have your ups and downs. You can’t stay in the honeymoon stage forever.”

“I see…” I said. “That makes sense.”
Why did I feel like this wasn’t the answer I was looking for?
“What if, Judge…” I went on. “How would I know if I am really happy single? What if I just think I am happy because I don’t know what could be though...”

Judge sighed out thoughtfully, and I could feel the beginnings of the deep wisdom she was about to drop.
“If you're happy on your own, you're happy and if you're feeling doubtful, it's just fomo.”

“Fomo?”

“Fear of missing out.” she explained. “Believe me, I used to think I needed someone to make me happy, which was the farthest thing from the truth. I had to remind myself that the most important person you can love is yourself. And I deserve the very best, goddammit.”

“Wow, that’s deep.” I sighed.

“If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love somebody else?” Judge said.

I frowned.
“Wait, did you just quote Rupaul?” I asked.

“So what if I did? Mama Ru is a wise queen.” Judge said defensively. “So… wanna tell me what got you thinking all philosophical and shit?”

“I went to a wedding,” I said flatly. “Stag.”

An amused snort rang through.
“Oh that explains it.” she laughed. “And you survived to tell the tale.”

“Barely,” I snorted. “I was seated at the singles table.”
“Oooph, oh no.”
“But everyone else had brought dates and were all honeymoon-y lovey-dovey with each other.”
“Oh no…”
“But here’s the kicker; the bride’s sisters still tried to set me up with this guy at the table.”
“Oh…”
“No, it gets better. I’m pretty sure he was gay.”
“Ha!… I mean, oh no…”

I reached over to my bedside table and grabbed my notebook and pencil. I flipped it open to the bookmarked page and started to draw.
“Yea,” I said, mindlessly doodling. “Oh, and I got hit on by an older gropey uncle on the groom’s side of the family during the congo line.”

“So overall… it was a normal wedding,” Judge noted.

“Yea… can’t tell which hurts more; my feet or my dignity.” I sighed.

“It doesn’t help that wedding nowadays are like hunting grounds for single people,” Judge added. “It’s like there are always guys going after bridesmaids, or looking for a one-night stand. The last wedding I went to, I made up a boyfriend just to fend off some stupid drunk.”

“You made up an imaginary boyfriend?” I snorted. “And it worked?”

“Of course it worked! It’s all in the delivery.” Judge said. She then cleared her throat, getting into character. “His name is Mason, he really wanted to be here but he couldn’t make it; he’s out protesting against the Dakota Access Pipeline, yes he is so passionate when it comes to causes he believes in… Oh, he’s great! And so incredibly smart… he’s aiming to be an environmental lawyer and is currently working on his thesis for his masters. He’s so caring and sweet…”

I laughed at the daydreamy tone of her ‘lovestruck’ personality.
“He seems like a catch,” I noted. “Almost too good to be true…”

My pencil stopped on my notebook mid-doodle. Suddenly the previous conversation came to mind, giving me an idea.
“Hey Judge, just play along for a bit,” I said. “So for the sake of creativity and curiosity, if I said you could engineer a boyfriend... what kind of qualities would you have?”

“Red hair, carpet matching the drapes, big dick,” she said, without missing a beat. “Next.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Why didn’t I see that coming?
“Come on, seriously,” I said. “Qualities of a boyfriend, take two. Go.”

“Sexy, strong, can cook…” Judge listed. “Cleans, eco-friendly…”

“Wow… sounds nice…” I started to say.

“…So he’s solar rechargeable, and comes with double thrusters,” she concluded.

“Judge, it can’t be Genos,” I said flatly. “Take three.”

“But imagine the possibilities of those double thrusters, Kyo.” She protested. She dropped her tone to a low whisper. “Imagine the possibilities in the sack---“

“Judge no,”

“Okay, geez…. Give me a sec…” Judge grumbled. There was a slight pause before she spoke again. “Okay, I got it.”

I resumed doodling on my notebook as she described her ideal boyfriend.
“My ideal boyfriend has this long and soft black hair that I want to take a nap in and these puppy dog eyes that are so expressive but he can also, like murder someone with it… he also has a very nice and strong jawline that makes me want to fucking destroy myself…” she went on.

I frowned, finishing off the torso of the stick figure I was drawing.
“This is oddly specific,” I noted.

“He has anger management issues, which sounds scary in real life but in this sense, it is sexy as fuck. Like, imagine the angry sex, like can you even imagine? Like he wears all black and that’s… just… bend me over the table and take me to frisk-o town!”

“…Yup, this is familiar.” I said, unamused. “Judge, it can’t be Kylo Ren either!”

“There has been an Awakening in my pants.” Judge murmured in a low voice.

“Judge!”

“But this is what I like!” she whined. “Fucking A, man... What’s all this about really?”

A tired sigh escaped my mouth like air escaping a deflating balloon.
“Sorry. It’s just that… someone earlier asked me what was my ‘type’.” I admitted. “And… I’m not sure what that means?”

“Well then, in that case… my type is what I like to call ‘fire crotch’.” Judge said. “If I order ‘My Type’, give me tall, toned but lanky, and ginger.”

“Of all the recessive gene to choose from, you had to choose one of the rarest,” I said.

“Start taking notes. Because I only deserve the best.” Judge joked. “Did you spell ‘fire crotch’ correctly?”

“…uh…” I glanced down at my doodle page that now featured a stick figure striking the Captain Morgan pose and a crooked eyepatch. “Yes?”

“In all capital letters. It’s that important,” she said.

“It’s not that important…”

“Yes, yes it is.” Judge insisted. “Like, meh…fire crotch, vs FIRE CROTCH! See? The weight it carries is different.”

“Are we seriously going to talk about favoring fiery pubic regions for five minutes?” I cringed.

“Fine. But all joking aside…” sound of chewing was audible from the other end of the line before my dear friend continued. “Don’t worry so much about types and shit people say at weddings. No pressure. Just do you and go with the flow.”

“Go with the flow…” I echoed.

I stared at my sketchpad, the stick-figure Captain Morgan grinning crookedly up at me.

Go with the flow….