Page 7 of The Boyfriend List
The most exotic thing about me is my name. Our parents named all of us—Troy, Brooklyn, Paris, and Savannah—after cities they’ve visited. I’m named after London,Ontario.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve scanned the list into my notes app and tucked the paper back into Gloria’s desk drawer, one she frequently opens.
It contains random notes, like grocery lists and reminders of doctor’s appointments. The perfect place for her to store a list like this. Except the results of this one are far more consequential than a reminder to buy milk and eggs.
Gloria’s making a list of things she wants in a boyfriend.
Which means she’s looking for a boyfriend.
Which means she’s not just trying to casually date men named Jebediah. Or Jebob. Or whatever his name is.
Which means…
I might lose her.
Even if I never had a chance with her. I shouldn’t evenwanta chance with her, given everything that’s wrong with my life.
The thought of her dating anyone else makes me want to punch a brick wall.
You can’t date her, my logical mind whispers.She wants a family.
My gaze latches on to item number 15:He has to want marriage and a family.I’m clearly not her ideal candidate. Even if she was attracted to me, Icould never give her the things she needs. Gloria has always wanted a family. And I never have.
My parents fought incessantly, my siblings ignored it or didn’t care, and I shouldered the burden of being my parents’ marriage counsellor and emotional garbage disposal.
I couldn’t risk doing the same to a child. And I couldn’t risk doing that to Gloria.
So it’s selfish of me to try to fulfill her boyfriend list when I can never be her boyfriend. Or her husband.
I close the drawer and make my way back to my own desk, thinking about my own attempts at relationships. I’ve tried dating other women, but they never compared to Gloria. I just dated them to get my siblings to stop teasing me for being single. I could never have been attached to them the way I am to her.
I didn’tneedto scan the list with my phone. I’ve already memorized it and seen all the ways I fall painfully lacking, with my dull hobbies and my turbulent family.
It would be selfish of me to waste her time on false hope. Selfish of me to keep her from dating a man who’s healthy and whole and unburdened by familial baggage.
But what if Iwasenough? What if I could be the man for her? What if, despite all my flaws and foibles, I could be the man she wants? Needs? Deserves?
What if I could change?
“Hey, London!” Gloria comes back to her desk, and I startle. “Ready to go?”
I grab my keys. “Yep.”
“You okay?” She eyes me oddly. “You seem kind of… jumpy.”
“Me? Jumpy?” I shove my keys in the pocket of my pants—dry-cleaned charcoal slacks with a razor sharp crease—and smooth imaginary wrinkles out of my shirt. “Not at all.”
“Whatever you say, Birmingham.” She nudges me slightly with her elbow, and I feel that touch down to my bones. Guilt suffuses me as I think of how I read her private document. That could have been a page out of her journal. “Let’s go sit in L.A. traffic for forty-five minutes, shall we?”
On the drive home, we listen to her favourite band, SB19, a Filipino boy band Gloria loves. We typically alternate between her favourite songs and my favourite music—classics from the American songbook, Dean Martin and Sinatra and Nat King Cole—on the drive.
“How did your quarterly review with the boss go?” I ask Gloria. The real question that burns on my lips iswhy did you make a list of qualities you want in a boyfriend?
Gloria clears her throat. “Good. She told me that a spot for senior associate is opening up soon.”
“Did she offer you the position?” I say.
“She didn’t, but she told me I’m definitely in the running for it… even though McMann wanted to give it to Giorgio.”
