The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,1

didn’t have the balls to talk to any girls, let alone to the most popular one in school.

But now I’m feeling confident. I keep using positive self talk just like coach told me to do before games. If it works on the field with a bunch of angry guys on the other team running at me, it should work here.

Again, ‘should’.

3 steps. 2 steps. 1 step.

Here goes everything.

Shoshana

Is it normal to hear Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust in your head whenever you think about your love life?

Probably not, right?

Well, another one just took a giant bite of that dust on his way out the door. He’s in good—or bad—company.

Brad.

I should have known he’s be bad for me. His name was Brad, for Gods sake.

And not Bradley, either, just Brad. Disaster was in the cards. What the hell is wrong with me?

I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t. But what I do know is that I’m officially done with guys. When I see a hot one it’s like seeing a drink after a bender—I get kind of nauseous and woozy, remembering how much fun the experience was—until it wasn’t.

Maybe my best friend Tori is right.

I lead with my heart and my body—never my head. If a guy has an amazing body and a face to match, I pretty much assume he’s going to father my children one day.

Weird that I haven’t found Mr. Right, huh?

Seriously, when I’m am I going to find a guy who isn’t a complete tool? I wish I had a machine where I could invent the perfect guy—the perfect boyfriend—who had all the qualities I was looking for.

Can’t hurt to dream, right?

I’ll wait for Elon Musk to get on that after he’s done with all the space stuff. In the meantime I guess I’m stuck with the Brads of this world.

Seriously, what was I thinking? Brad.

Shoshana—One Year Ago

“And Here I Am Thinking That I’m all Stinking Bishop.”

“I can’t. I’m not American cheese like you.”

Before you judge that statement, I promise that it means something. If you’re looking at your screen with a what-the-hell-is-she-talking-about face, well, you’re not alone. My best friend Tori has the same expression, but nothing new there—I basically always say random things to her.

“Okay,” she tells me. “You’ve officially gone from being my quirky best friend to just an oddball saying random stuff that makes no sense. Come again?”

“You’re American cheese, Tor—something everyone likes. Easy to put on your favorite dishes. Likable, delicious. That’s why you have like a gazillion followers and a book on The New York Times bestseller list. You’re soooo American cheese.”

“And you’re sooo getting committed to a mental institution if you don’t stop comparing me to cheese.”

“Look at you,” I say, smiling in a way that I know drives Tori crazy. “You become a best-selling author just like that and you already have delusions of grandeur.”

“Delusions of grandeur?” she asks.

“You think you’d be the first person to try to have me committed? Ha! I laugh at you, Instafamous Podcaster best friend. Many, more powerful than you, have tried and failed—mostly ‘cause I’m not actually crazy.”

Tori Klein, best friend of yours truly, is one of the biggest stars in YouTube land. She has a popular YouTube channel and podcast called Women on D*cks and I’ve been her producer and editing assistant for years now. She recently became a New York Times bestselling author, and now she’s trying to convince me that I should follow in her path and start my own channel.

“Everyone likes you. You have that thing—that ‘it’ factor. It’s no wonder you have such a following.”

“That’s sweet, Shosh, but it isn’t even close to true. Not everybody likes me—you’ve seen the comments section, right? And hell, my own fiancé didn’t want to publish my book.”

“First of all, I thought I told you to NEVER read the comments section—like, ever! Treat this like the 11th commandment—Thou shalt not read the ranting of internet trolls.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Good. And second, Cormac just wanted to have sex with you and didn’t know how to express it. He was like that little boy on the school yard throwing you down and pulling your hair, when all he really wanted to do was kiss you.”

She smiles. “So, let me get this straight—you don’t think Cormac actually had a problem with the content of my book, you think he just didn’t know how to express his feelings for me?”

“Not his feelings, Tor, his boner. For guys, that’s how it works—boner first, actual feelings