The Boyfriend Plan

by J. S. Cooper

  “Maggie.”

  “Don’t worry, Gayle. I’m not holding out for Bradley. But I think it’s the best way to get over Ben and Blake.”

  “Blake?” she screeched in my ear again. Oops, I hadn’t really told her that I was starting to feel weird things for Blake.

  “What’s going on with you and Blake?”

  “Nothing.”

  “But you like him?”

  “I don’t know. Well, maybe. But, I don’t know. Anyways, he has a girlfriend.”

  “What about Ben? Are you over him now?” She sounded excited.

  “Huh? I don’t know. No. Yes. Maybe.” Sigh.

  “Maggie?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know how to feel anymore. I still think Ben is cute, and I think Blake is hot and super nice, and I still lust over Bradley, but I just don’t think I’m being realistic in expecting any of them. And I am fed up with being single and lonely.”

  “It’s okay, Mags. It’s good,” Gayle’s voice was soft. “This is really good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah, you deserve someone real. Someone to love you. Not just a dream lover.”

  “Huh?” I was indignant.

  “You know what I mean, Mags. It’s time to take control of your life. It’s your time now.”

  “I know. It’s time.” And it was time for me to start living and stop dreaming.

  “Mags, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” I was worried Gayle was going to ask me about my gym workouts and about my running. I didn’t want to have to admit those still were not going very well. I especially didn’t want her try and coerce me into working out more than I currently was. One step at a time, please.

  “What really made you decide to start online dating? I’ve tried to encourage you so many times.”

  I thought about her question carefully. It wasn’t an easy thing to admit. I knew I was a dreamer, a hopeless romantic, the idealist who believed in love at first sight and fate. And in my heart of hearts, I still believed that it was possible for Bradley and me to be together. But in the last few weeks, part of me had changed.

  “I think I’m changing, Gayle. I’m becoming a doer, you know...” I paused, not sure how much I was willing to admit, even to myself. Especially to myself.

  “I’ve always had dreams. To write a bestseller, to be skinny, to marry a gorgeous man. And I’ve never really done anything grand and nothing has inspired me to. I’ve been happy with my dreams, but now, I, I just feel like the dream is not enough.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I’m scared though, Gayle. What if I...”

  “You won’t fail, Mags. You could never fail.” Gayle’s voice was so strong, so confident, that it warmed me through and through. That was why Gayle was my best friend. Even though she sometimes made me feel inferior or bossed me around, I knew she was my strongest proponent and supporter.

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s true, you know. I admire you.”

  “I admire you too, Gayle. I never would have...”

  Gayle interrupted me. “Let’s not get all sappy. Tell me more about Cupidlove!”

  I laughed. Gayle was not a feelings person, and I knew she must have been feeling super awkward at the way the conversation was going. It suddenly struck me that I needed to do something for Gayle. She was single as well, and as far as I knew, was not dating or interested in anyone. I’d spent so much time thinking about myself and my own problems that I’d failed to actually find out what was going on in Gayle’s love life for a while. That had to change.

  Blake: Hey, what are you doing?

  Maggie: Not much, you?

  Blake: Getting ready for bed.

  Maggie: Sounds fancy.

  Blake: Does it really?

  Maggie: No. Lol.

  Blake: I wish you were here with me.

  Maggie: Oh?

  Blake: I’d love to hold you close and kiss you and snuggle.

  Maggie: What?

  Blake: I’ve been thinking about you all day. I miss you.

  Maggie: You do?

  Blake: I miss your smile, I miss your voice, I miss just being with you.

  Maggie: Uh.

  Blake: Can I see you again soon?

  Maggie: Sure, I guess so.

  Blake: Maggie, I really need to teach you how to flirt better via text.

  Maggie: Huh?

  Blake: This was lesson two, dear Maggie. Read the words that I said, these are the sort of things you should be sending to the guys you date and if they send these sort of messages to you, you need to respond a lot better.

  Maggie: Yes, Blake.

  I slapped my phone down on my nightstand, my face all aflush. I should have known his text messages were only part and parcel of him being my boyfriend coach.

  13

  Dear Diary,

  I’ve been on 5 dates in the last 2 weeks. Yes, you read that correctly. 5 dates! That’s more than I’ve been on in the last 2 years. Unfortunately, I would very happily go back to the 0 dates in the last 2 years if I could. It’s been a bit of a nightmare, and now I’ve got myself a bit of a stalker. It’s funny, when you are single, you always hope men will want you and woo you. But when it happens and it’s the guys you don’t like or want, that sentiment goes away very, very quickly. In even more surprising news, I’m not the only one who has a crush on Ben.

  My Cupidlove account made me cringe. The photos, the poetic prose, the half-lies about my body size, interests, and wants all made me squirm inside. I didn’t feel like I was being dishonest in my profile, but I also didn’t feel like I was being completely honest. I mean, under interests I had written:

  I love watching football on Sundays and am never happier than when at a baseball or ice hockey game - Go Lakers!!! (I hated football, had no interest in baseball or ice hockey, and you couldn’t pay me enough money to watch sports on TV.)

  I also enjoy going to dance clubs, and beer is like water to me!! (I was told that guys love a girl who can dance, and that liking beer over ‘girly drinks’ is like manna from Heaven. They didn’t have to know that I knew the cocktail specials at 5 different bars in LA.)

  I love working out and just recently joined a new (well, it is new to me) gym, and am training right now for a marathon. This will be my 2nd marathon, and I am super excited about surpassing my first run time!!! (Hey, in for a penny, in for a pound.)

  I would love to climb Mt. Everest one day and love hiking in the Hollywood Hills with my energetic and lovable protector, Lucy, and yes she is my dog. I’m looking for someone who likes to be active (watch TV and eat chocolate) and has a keen interest in discussing literature, art, and world politics!! (Well, one of those is true.)

  Now, I knew what I wrote wasn’t exactly accurate, but I was told that I should write my profile in order to get the type of guy I wanted to attract, not the type that would be attracted to me. I mean let’s be honest, what sort of guys were going to respond to:

  I like to watch romantic comedies and pretend I am the leading lady kissing the very hot and doable lead man. I have a dog that enjoys sleeping and drooling, and she suits me just fine. My best friend made me join the gym because I’m trying to lose weight so that I can walk/jog in the marathon she signed us up for and which I am dreading. I love to read books and am trying to be a writer (I guess it’s better than actress), and I can’t name the secretary of defense in this cabinet because I stopped caring about politics once I left college. Oh yeah, I’m also kinda of broke and so would prefer dinner dates to coffee because then I know I can get a good and free meal out of it as well.

  Let’s just say they weren’t good guys. That wasn’t my exact first profile, but it was close to that. It got offers from older men wanting to ‘take care of me’ and from slobs who asked if I was into RPG and online games. One guy even asked me if I would dress up as his favorite Star Trek character on the first date and if I had any fetishes he could fulfill. Let’s just say that the new profile hel
ped me attract a higher caliber of men; at least they appeared to be of more quality, based on their online profiles.

  I called Blake before I agreed to go on my sixth date. I had wanted to talk to Ben about it, but he hadn’t been around the office for a week and hadn’t returned any of my phone calls. Yes, part of the reason I wanted to tell Ben was because I wanted him to get scared that I would meet someone else and then beg me to not join and be his. And yes, obviously that didn’t happen. For some reason, I was more nervous about telling Blake about my dates, even though he was my boyfriend coach. Maybe it was because the feelings I was starting to develop for him weren’t like the feelings I had for Ben. They touched me in a different way. He made me feel things that Ben didn’t make me feel. There was something more serious about our friendship and I didn’t want to explore it. It made me feel too nervous and too scared.

  Bridget was also really busy with work (she hadn’t even had time to go the gym with me, said she was going through boxes and boxes of discovery for some new case. I wasn’t sure what she was discovering, but it meant she was too busy to work out). It was only then that I decided to call Blake. Gayle had also disappeared on me, said she had just started seeing someone and would call me back, and nothing.

  Blake laughed when I told him I was joining an online dating site; asked me if I didn’t have enough admirers already. I wasn’t sure if he was joking, but he did agree to help prep me for my date. I was a bit hesitant about getting help from a guy. I mean, it was just so embarrassing because it was Blake and he was a gorgeous hunk who I thought was hot and who I wanted to go out with as well. But he was also my childhood friend and in a relationship, so I figured it was pointless to feel embarrassed by asking for advice, especially because I really needed it.

  “Moo-moo, welcome!” Blake was laughing when he opened the door. I had gone over to his house before my sixth date, to get ready. I’d brought 3 outfits and makeup with me. I figured Blake could tell me which one looked best while he gave me some pointers for conversation. After five miserable dates, I admitted I knew little to nothing about how to flirt or how to read men’s signals. Even after his two lessons.

  “Ass.” I’d hit him on the arm as I walked into his house the first time. And then I’d almost gasped out loud, his house was so amazing. Blake lived in Los Feliz, a cool, trendy part of Los Angeles, and his house was gorgeous.

  “Wow, this is really nice.” I dropped my bag in the hallway and walked into the living room on the right. There was a large comfy white couch by a beautiful bay window, and across from that was a fireplace. There was a mantle on top of the fireplace with photos. I walked over to look at them.

  “Feel free to show yourself the house, Maggie,” Blake called after me.

  “I will, thanks, Blakey,” I called back in response. My heart skipped a beat when I looked at the photos. In front and foremost was a photo of me, Blake, and my brother taken at a pool party when I was about 10. I was grinning into the camera with my wet bedraggled hair and a float in my hand. The boys both had their tongues out. I remembered the photo and the day instantly. That was the day I had asked Blake to tell me what a French kiss was. I had heard two friends talking about it the day before at school and had no idea what it meant. Blake had told me it was when 2 people kissed in France. He’d said it was more special because Paris is the city of romance and fireworks go off in your body when you kiss there. Being 10, I had taken him at his word and had daydreamed of going to Paris ever since. It wasn’t until 14 that I found out that French kisses meant using tongues, but the idea of fireworks going off in my stomach in Paris never left my mind, and I vowed that one day I would go to the city of love to see if it would happen.

  “I remember this! This is the day you told me about French kisses.” I turned my head to the side to look at Blake. “You know, I believed that story for years.”

  “You remember that?” Blake looked at me in amazement.

  “Of course, who doesn’t remember their first conversation about love and romance?”

  “Love and romance? Didn’t you just ask me about French kisses?”

  “Yes, but your answer was so romantic. I talked endlessly with my friends about going to Paris and feeling those fireworks in my belly.”

  “So has it ever happened?” Blake looked into my eyes seriously, searching. I wasn’t sure why he was so serious all of a sudden.

  “What? A French kiss?” I was a bit taken aback. “Of course I’ve French kissed. I may not have much experience, but I’m not a complete loser you know.” I looked at him with venom.

  “Oh, Maggie, I’m not talking about a French kiss, you dope. Of course someone as beautiful as you has been kissed. I mean have you ever felt the fireworks?” He was grinning again now.

  My heart had skipped a beat. He had called me beautiful. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to ask him to repeat it. I wanted to ask him if he meant it or if he was just being nice. Maybe he was just saying that because he saw me as his sister, a member of his family, and family members have to tell you that you are beautiful.

  “So, have you?” Blake interrupted my thoughts.

  “Oh, no, no I haven’t. Not yet.”

  “I’m surprised. A true romantic like you...”

  I interrupted him, “Well, I haven’t been to Paris as of yet.”

  “True, you do have to be in Paris to feel the fireworks!” He winked at me and then walked to the kitchen. “Want a drink?”

  “A glass of red wine if you have it,” I shouted after him, figuring I might as well get a little lightheaded to prepare myself for the date. Nothing like liquid courage and an alcohol-infused personality to get a date going! I was changing into one of the dresses I’d brought when Blake barged into the room humming some rock ‘n roll song.

  “Hey, I’m changing here.”

  “How was I to know you were some sort of harlot? Who changes in the living room? Except maybe bachelor party strippers.”

  I glared at him as I turned around.

  “Follow me.”

  “Where to?”

  “The bedroom,” Blake grinned.

  “Excuse me?” My heart skipped a beat. Could I sleep with him behind Bridget’s back?

  “Don’t you want to change in privacy?”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah.” Thank God I hadn’t ripped off my dress and said “Just take me here and now!” That would have been embarrassing. Plus, did I really want to be with Blake? Yeah, he was cute, but he still called me “Moo-moo,” and that was something I had left behind in my braces-wearing days.

  We walked into one of the biggest bedrooms I’d ever seen in my life, and it was only when I looked at the closet that I realized it was his room and not a spare bedroom.

  “I’ll leave this here,” Blake placed the wine glass down on a side table next to the bed and started to walk out. “Just call me when you want me to come judge.”

  “Well, I guess you don’t have to leave. It won’t take me but a few minutes to change into each outfit. Just close your eyes when I change.”

  “Sure thing,” he drawled while laconically winking at me.

  “I mean it,” I laughingly said. I hit him on the arm to emphasize my point. His arm was hard and strong and it reminded me of what great shape he was in. I had to get a grip on myself. I had nothing to worry about. There was no way that Blake was interested in peeking at me when he could have any girl in the world with a click of his fingers.

  I grabbed the wine glass and took a chug of the pinot noir he had poured for me. “Wow, this is some good wine. I’m guessing it’s not Two Buck Chuck from Trader Joes?” I laughed.

  “That is right, not quite Two Buck Chuck,” Blake smiled at me. “Mind if I turn the TV on while you get ready?”

  “Sure.”

  He got up and sat on his bed and turned the TV on. Football appeared on the screen. I inwardly groaned, was ESPN the only channel that the male species knew existed?

  I already had the first dress on so decided to
do my hair and makeup before I put on my heels and paraded in each outfit. I wanted to look classy for my date. I was meeting a man named Will. His profile said he was a doctor, and he looked like he was pretty handsome in his photographs. He had a goatee and mustache, which was what initially attracted me to his profile. And well, who didn’t want to date a doctor?

  Blake whistled when he saw me all done up. “I don’t even need to see the other dresses, Maggie. This outfit is perfect.” I was about to argue with him and tell him I wanted to try on all 3 dresses when I noticed the time. If I didn’t leave soon, I was going to be late for the date. He gazed at me with a surprised and almost impressed look in his eyes and I just grinned back at him foolishly, feeling sexy and beautiful.

  “Come here,” he said and he pulled me into his arms. His lips crushed down on mine and I wrapped my hands around his neck. He kissed me hard, and I felt his tongue sliding into my mouth smoothly as I pressed my body against his. Our tongues entwined and seemed to dance together as his fingers ran through my hair and my hands pressed into his shoulders. I gasped as I felt his right hand running down my back and stop on my ass as he pressed me into him even harder. The kiss lasted for a few more seconds and then he leaned back, his expression looking as dazed as I felt.

  “And that’s lesson number 3, that’s how you do the perfect French kiss.” He said and hurried to the door. “Finish getting ready and I’ll see in you the living room.” He strolled out and I just stood there, my stomach churning as fireworks seemed to go off all around me. I touched my lips lightly. This was starting to get out of control. I didn’t even want to go on the date now. I just wanted to stay home with Blake. I wanted to stay here and kiss him all night long.

  Finally, I exited the bedroom and got ready to leave. Blake was walking me to the door and I was in my black dress (he thought it was the right combination of sexy and sophisticated) when I got a text from Gayle: