Build-a-Boyfriend Workshop

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The pen in my hand hit the desk surface in soft steady taps as I tried to focus on the next word on my flashcard list. I was determined to get through the list of medications and dosages and onto notecards before noon, and I was even more determined to ignore the noise in the background.

The next word was: Adenosine.
“Adenosine… Adenosine…” I muttered under my breath.

I was reading the words but my brain didn’t seem to comprehend the task at hand… as it was busy combating the distraction that sounded from behind me.

Swish… swish…Swish-swish… Swish…

The tapping of my pen became louder, as if that was going to do anything to drown out that annoying sound.
“Adenosine. A-den-o-sine.” I chanted mindlessly.

I could feel my brain growing fuzzier by the second and the noise all seemed to merge into one.
Swish. Tap. Swish. Tap. SWISH-SWISH…

I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped.

Angrily, I shoved back my desk chair and wheeled around.
“You.” I nearly snarled. “Will you please stop twirling around!”

Lincoln stopped mid-twirl, blinking innocently at me. His newly obtained cape, a gift from the kids at last week’s barbeque settling down around his stick figure frame.
“But I’m still working on my super hero pose!” he whined.

“Don’t test me, Flubberbutt. I am in no mood.” I grouched. “I need to pass this exam on the first try.”
“Come on, don’t be like that.” Lincoln sighed, rocking back and forth. “You still have couple of months to prep for that test!”
“Six weeks.” I corrected him. “And I can’t afford to fail.”
“Maybe you need a break. You’ve been sitting at that desk for hours.” he said. “Come on, twirl with me! It’s so much fun with a cape!”

I watched the imaginary stick figure flutter around my room as he sang a dramatic tune to match his variety of superhero poses. I had come to get used to his periodic drop ins that were becoming more and more frequent but something still didn’t make sense. And I couldn’t help but feel a sense of resistance in regards to the figment of my imagination.

“Lincoln, why are you here?” I asked.

Lincoln stopped humming and turned fully towards me.
“You and your creative mind thought me up,” he reminded me.
“No, sorry, not what I meant.” I said. “What I mean is… why are you here, now?”
“Well, something about me hasn’t been sitting right with you.” he said. “It’s been bugging you more and more, something that keeps bugging from the back of your mind.”
“Yea I guess…” I agreed. “But what exactly?”
Lincoln hummed thoughtfully, crossing his stick figure arms.
“Think… Your brain thought me up when you were talking about imaginary boyfriends with Judge.” he noted, as if he was retracing his steps. “And then you gave me a name… Still tentative, by the way. But something still isn’t enough, is it?”
“But what exactly is the question, man.” I said.

Lincoln rolled his eyes in exasperation. He then fell back dramatically onto my bed and rolled onto his side. He propped his head up with one arm and the other one landed on his hip to strike a pose before he grinned up at me.

“Tell me… do you find this imaginary boyfriend sexy?” he asked. “Is this what does it for you? Papery, two-dimensional, asymmetrical limbs. Geez, talk about impossible standards…”
I frowned.
“Really, your appearance? Or rather… lack thereof. That’s what’s been bugging me?” I asked.
“You did create me with the thought of a boyfriend in mind, right?” he said.
“I didn’t like… think you up with any intention. It was sort of like an unexpected accident."
The stick figure frowned, managing to look unimpressed.
“Wow, you really know how to make your guy feel so special.” he said dryly.
“So. Now that we know what has been bugging me, how should we fix this?” I questioned.
But Lincoln shook his head.
“By we, you mean you. And the answer is simple.” he said. He motioned towards his stick figure body in one sweep. “You give me a real-boy body. Uh, by ‘boy’, I mean a guy. A realistic guy… a real-guy body. Like a real boyfriend-guy---"
I groaned.
“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” I demanded.
To that, I got another shake of a head.
“Just like you created me. Use that overactive imagination of yours, duh.” he said.
“Why? Why now?” I grumbled. “When I literally have so many things to take care of.”
“Minds don’t always work in convenient ways, Kyo.” Lincoln shrugged.

He sat up quickly and scooted to the edge of the bed.
“Come on, this might be a nice breather for that brain of yours.” he coaxed. “You might actually have fun…”

I sighed and glanced over to my laptop tucked inside my shelf. He did have a point; I could use a break from the studying.
“Alright, go with the flow.” I reminded myself.

I grabbed my laptop and clicked open the web browser. Quickly, I typed in the first thing that came to mind.


A promising link popped up first in the search and I clicked immediately.
“Oh, a quiz.” Lincoln noted, glancing over my shoulder at the screen. “That’s a smart idea.”
“Uh huh…” I mumbled thoughtfully as I read. “What is your bespoke boyfriend like?”
I glanced at Lincoln, who returned the look in what I assumed was full support.
“Well, here goes nothing.” I sighed. “First question is…”



Quickly I glanced at the choices provided and chose the answer.
“6’1’’ sounds good.” I said.
“That is pretty tall.” Lincoln noted.
“Yea, but the only shorter response was 5’5. And I like wearing heels without towering over my date.” I said.
“You’re 5’1’’ and that’s when the nurse rounds up out of pity.” Lincoln muttered.
I ignored his last comment and moved onto the next question.



“Really? Are people really into this thing called ‘dad-bod’?” Lincoln questioned dubiously. “What does that even look like?”
“No clue…” I said, as I clicked lean but muscular. “Next.”


“I don’t even know what half of these mean,” I complained. “What the hell is ‘Crunchy Kale Salad Hipster’ even mean?”
“I dunno, but the man bun sounds like---”
“Oh hell no.” I said, and quickly clicked Laid back-down to business.
“Oh… what does that mean?” Lincoln teased as I moved onto the next question.


“Why not a police man? And you like men in uniform.” Lincoln suggested. “I bet I would look awesome in a uniform…”
“Can’t. Mother’s rules.” I said. “No cops, firemen or military.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t want me to end up being a widow.”
“That’s unnecessarily dark.” Lincoln commented, a frown in his tone. “Like… really unneeded.”
“I know, I just nod along with it to shut her up.” I said, clicking Chef/Baker.


“Oh boy.” I said.
“Oh boy.” Lincoln echoed.

Neither of us spoke as I scanned the choices and moved the mouse over to click Intense, hot and efficient.
“Duly noted.” Lincoln hummed. "Le Sex shall be both hot and intense, and with efficiency of a well-oiled machine."
“Don’t you dare.” I spat. "Don't you dare make this weird."

There were several more questions after that and I chose the answers from the given list of choices. Some of the questions were absurd and left more questions than answers. But finally, the results were in:



And at the bottom, was a picture of a generic picture of a shirtless male model, in swim trunks staring emptily into the camera. He was… well…

“Ugh… I look like a putz.” Lincoln said.

I glanced over to Lincoln, and to my surprise, he had taken on the shape of the model. Including his vacant gaze.
“Okay, so I think it’s time to phone a friend on this one.” I said. “But it wasn’t fruitless. I guess I found a type.”

"Call them." he said. "Call them now. And I want my cape back."

"No. No capes." I said firmly. "But I know just who to call."