I Agreed to Be Her Fake Boyfriend for One Night and Now She’s My Wife

She let go of my hand and wrapped her arms around herself.

“The truth is I broke up with my actual boyfriend 2 months ago and I didn’t tell them. They loved him. They thought we were getting married. When they asked about him on the phone last week, I panicked and said we were still together.”

“So you invented a new boyfriend instead of just telling them you broke up?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds insane.”

“Because it is insane.”

She laughed, a real laugh that made her eyes crinkle.

“I know, I know. It’s crazy. But they were so excited about visiting and meeting him, and I couldn’t deal with disappointing them again. I disappoint them a lot.”

There was something in her voice that made me think this went deeper than just a breakup.

“Again?” I asked.

She looked away.

“I dropped out of law school last year. They were not thrilled. Then I quit my corporate job to freelance as a graphic designer, which they also hated. Then the boyfriend they actually approved of dumped me because I wasn’t ambitious enough. So yeah, I have a track record of letting them down.”

“Sounds like you have a track record of making choices for yourself instead of for them.”

She looked back at me, surprised.

“That’s actually a nice way to put it.”

We stood there for a moment, traffic passing by, the restaurant noise muffled behind us.

“Who called you during dinner?” I asked.

She hesitated.

“My ex. The one my parents think I’m still dating.”

“What did he want?”

“To tell me he’s engaged to someone he met six weeks ago. He wanted me to hear it from him before I saw it on social media.”

The pieces clicked together.

“So he dumps you for not being ambitious enough, then gets engaged to someone else 2 months later?”

“Apparently she’s a corporate attorney. Very ambitious. Very approved of by everyone’s parents.”

Her voice cracked slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s awful timing.”

“Timing has never been my strong suit.”

She pulled out her phone and checked the time.

“I should let you go. You’ve already done way more than any reasonable stranger should. Thank you,” she said finally, “for tonight. For going along with this ridiculous plan. For being a surprisingly convincing fake boyfriend.”

“You’re welcome. And for what it’s worth, you’re a very convincing fake girlfriend.”

She smiled.

“Can I buy you a real drink to make up for kidnapping you from that bar?”

I should have said no. I should have gone home. The night was over, the favor was done, and we could both move on with our lives.

“Sure,” I said.

We walked back to the bar where this had all started and found two seats at the end. Sophia ordered another glass of wine; I got another beer.

“Tell me about the real Sophia,” I said. “The one who isn’t making up stories for her parents.”

She took a long sip of wine.

“The real Sophia is a mess. She’s 28, lives in a studio apartment with too many plants, and spends most of her time designing logos for startups that never take off. She has commitment issues and anxiety and a tendency to catastrophize everything.”

“Sounds pretty normal to me. What about the real Andrew? Who is he when he’s not pretending to be someone’s boyfriend?”

I thought about it.

“The real Andrew is 30, works from home most days, and hasn’t been on a date in 6 months because he’s terrible at dating apps and even worse at meeting people in person.”

“6 months? That seems impossible.”

“I’m very good at being alone.”

“That’s sad.”

“It’s efficient.”

She laughed.

“You’re weird.”

“You grabbed a stranger at a bar and made him meet your parents. You don’t get to call me weird.”

We talked for another hour. She told me about her ex-boyfriend, the lawyer who dumped her because she wasn’t driven enough. I told her about my last relationship, which had ended because I worked too much and didn’t make enough time for the person I was dating.

She showed me some of her design work on her phone. I showed her the app I was currently developing for a client.

Somewhere around 11:00 p.m., she checked her phone and sighed.

“I should probably go. I have a client meeting in the morning.”

“Yeah, I should head home too.”

Neither of us moved.

“This was fun,” she said. “The dinner was stressful, but this part was actually really nice.”

“We should do it again. Without your parents.”

She looked at me, surprised.

“Are you asking me on a real date?”

“Maybe. Is that weird given how we met?”

“It’s extremely weird, but also kind of perfect.”

She pulled out her phone.

“Give me your number. Real number this time.”

I gave it to her, and she texted me immediately. The message said: “Hi, it’s your fake girlfriend.”

I saved her contact and sent back: “Hi, it’s your fake boyfriend who wants to be your real boyfriend.”