Counterfeit Boyfriend

Blue Eyed Solution

Magnus was starting to get desperate. It was a mere three hours until his work party and he had no one - save for his cat - to take with him. The idea of calling in sick to the whole party was looking better and better every minute. Claim you're throwing up non-stop, and no one expects you to attend office parties. Oh, but he hadn't been sick yesterday and would anyone even believe him? Plus even if he got out of this one event Magnus had a feeling Camille would expect the fake boyfriend to show up to the next one. Either that or he'd have to fake break up with his fake boyfriend, and wow how had he gotten himself into this mess again?

Then again, how bad could it really be if he showed up alone tonight? He'd make some excuse for the fictional guy's absence, and then duck out of the party early... yeah that might work. Like maybe it was fictional boyfriend guy who was sick instead of him? Oh, but that stupid blonde woman would never let him live it down! She'd smirk and tease him about making up a boyfriend, which in this case was true, but he didn't want her to know that! And even if she didn't see through him outright, Magnus would end up spending the next few months dodging her hints, and pretending to ignore her gibes.

Thud... thud... thud...

There was really nothing else for it. He just had to find somebody to come to the party with him. It almost didn't matter who it was at this point! Three hours wasn't so short a time. All he needed was a gay man with no plans on a Saturday night, or in other words, no social life. Magnus groaned and hit his head on the table again. Yep he was doomed.

Thud... thud... thud...

You know, in all honesty the guy didn't even have to be gay or even bi. He just had to be willing to pretend to be with Magnus for an evening. Non-homophobic date requested. Maybe he should just give up and see if he could hire a male escort?

Thud... thud... thud...

Magnus was at this very moment seriously considering getting drunk. He was sitting at a bar stool. Over the last few days he'd spent far too much time in bars, even if he had nothing to show for it. Magnus had met only two types of guys: ones who wanted a quick hook up, and ones who ran the other way at the prospect of a first date being a work function. He hadn't even gotten to the small detail of everyone at said work function thinking it was an established relationship rather than a first date, and they'd still run for the hills at the very idea. Did no one take first dates to work functions anymore? Magnus was getting too old for this kind of drama.

Thud... thud... thud...

His head was getting sore at this point.

Thud... thud... thud...

It was stupid Camille's stupid fault! She brought out the drama everywhere she went. That leech of a woman could turn the most mundane thing in the world into a drama fit for television. Moving on so freakin fast with her Russian underwear model! Like what kind of person does that, and why did Magnus have to care this darn much? He could do better, and he knew he could do better, but she just got under his skin. It wasn't even like he wanted her back. No way in hell was he ever taking her back! At this point there was more spite to it than anything. Magnus wanted to beat her at her own game. He wanted to win the break up, as cheesy as that sounds.

Thud... thud... thud...

And he was sure doing a fine job sitting here alone banging his head against the bar counter.

Thud... thud... thud...

Maybe it was time to give up and get drunk. Three hours to the party. He could show up drunk right? What's the worst that could happen? He knew he was pathetic, but he didn't care. There was no version of these events in which he actually told Camille the truth, even if he knew she'd figure it out on her own anyway. If he didn't know better Magnus would have sworn she could read minds.