Fake It Till We Make It

02

My best friend, Pia Evangelista, was carrying a tray of unbaked lasagna when she stopped in the middle of my kitchen, put the tray on the table, and started laughing. She pulled a chair, put her head down and slammed her fist lightly on the table, her shoulders shaking for what felt like five whole minutes. I made a face as I poured her a glass of water, even if she was laughing at my expense.

"Boy, I'm so glad I'm not in your family," she said when she can finally speak. She reached for the glass and took a drink then stood up to continue what she started and brought the lasagna to the microwave.

Wednesday night was household night for our singles ministry core group for Holy Family Missions, our Catholic lay community. It was my turn to host the meeting, hence the grocery errand last Monday. We almost always had it at my place because I had the space, and I allowed them to stay for as long as they liked. Pia, ever reliable, was there early to help me cook.

"It was like she was possessed or something," I said, after rinsing the lettuce and dumping it in a big bowl. "She even texted me yesterday, reminding me of our deal. I almost wanted to block her."

"Maybe she talked to Mitchie," she said, referring to our other friend, Mitchie Peralta, who was our – but really, my – resident matchmaker. Pia stood beside me and reached for the knife and started slicing the cucumbers. "So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know." I opened the pack of cherry tomatoes to wash them, letting the cold water run over my hands while the Monday night dinner replayed in my head. "What if I get sick on the wedding day?"

"Well, two months is a long time. You'll find someone."

"Easy for you to say," I said with a sigh. "You already have your someone."

"Hey, come on," Pia's tone was gentle, but there was still the hint of giddiness in it whenever we refer to her boyfriend, Migs. They've only recently become a couple, after years of dating. And I mean years. It was a good thing he was patient and persistent.

"Don't get mad, but your Tita has a point, you know," she continued. "When was the last time you were out on a date?"

I threw the tomatoes in the bowl with the lettuce and scowled at Pia. "Don't go there."

"I'm just saying." She glanced at me quickly before focusing again on the vegetables she was chopping, the sound of the knife hitting the board quick and efficient. "You're always busy. You never really took the time to go out and meet guys, you know."

"What? I meet guys almost every day! What do you call our clients at work? And all the people we meet at the Holy Family conferences?"

"I know, but can you honestly tell me that you have formed deep connections with them?"

My scowl turned into a frown, and then into a sigh. "Fine, no. But can you honestly tell me how you can create a 'deep connection' with a guy in two months? Enough to be in a relationship?"

The Queen of Long Pursuit bit her lip, then nodded thoughtfully. "You're right." Then her eyes brightened. "Okay, your aunt didn't say it has to be a serious boyfriend, right? So...I don't know. Why not bring a fake one?"

"A what?"

"A fake boyfriend. Just someone who's going to pretend to be your guy for that wedding, and maybe for a few more weeks, then you two can 'break up' after."

"Who's breaking up with whom?" A male voice piped up from behind us.

My best friend shrieked as she turned around, her grip tight around the knife's handle as she waved it in front of her. Then her expression relaxed, put the knife back on the table and glared at the newcomer. "Ian, what did I tell you? Do not do that when I'm chopping something!"