My untouched mint latte is getting cold as I figure out the best way to hunch over my laptop so that no one in Kayak’s can see my screen. I’m usually good with not caring what people think of me, but this is a little too embarrassing. I’m not trying to notify the baristas to the fact that I’m very literally constructing a fake boyfriend on the Internet. In case anyone glances over and sees that I’m on invisibleboyfriend.com, I’m ready to scream, “It’s for JOURNALISM, OK???” because that sounds better than “It’s for JOURNALISM, OK??? EVEN THOUGH IT WAS MAYBE INSPIRED BY GENUINE CONFUSION AS TO HOW A GAL AS REFINED AND ONLY SOMETIMES SWEATY AS ME STILL DOESN’T HAVE SOME NICE BOY TO CARRY HER S— FROM THE BOOKSTORE!”

This is made possible through Invisible Boyfriend and Invisible Girlfriend, two web-based apps under the Invisible Industries umbrella. Created by Matthew Homann and Kyle Tabor, the app creates the illusion to family and friends that the user is in a relationship through real text messages, voicemails and even handwritten notes. It’s useful for a few reasons (your parents are worried that you’re single, you don’t want to tell them you’re gay, etc.), and if you’re careful enough, can fool the people around you. The website’s “About” section also has a field guide that details how to keep up the facade. It does cost $24.99 a month, but it’s a small price to pay to have Aunt Linda shut the hell up at Thanksgiving dinner.

I figured I’d see what this whole thing was about. Here was my experience having a fake boyfriend for a few hours:

Step 1:

Make an account. Email address and password. I know this information. So far, this is going great.

Step 2:

Give him a name and age. You can either make up a name or test out the name randomizer. I decide between Judd Apatow (named after Judd Apatow), LeBron James (named after LeBron James) or Brett Michaels (named after Brett Michaels—also because I almost dressed up as him for Halloween once and am still heavily considering it). I can’t decide, so I use the name randomizer. I get “Cedrick Wallace Harris.” Seems believable. I wonder if Cedrick ever goes by “Rick,” but then I remember that a) he’s a fake person and b) probably does not have enough agency to go by a nickname. Which is good, because Rick is a horrible name. The age options range between 18 and 77. Technically, my ideal age is 78, but since that’s not an option, I guess I’ll go with 21.

Step 3:

Choose what he looks like. The next screen shows photos of different men, allowing you to choose what your ideal boyfriend looks like. I’m pleasantly surprised by the ethnically diverse set of photos. This section also gives you the option of uploading your own photo. YOUR OWN PHOTO. THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES. NEVER DATED THE GUY YOU LIKED IN HIGH SCHOOL? YOU CAN NOW. IT JUST TAKES A LITTLE GUMPTION AND A LOT OF DELUSION.

Step 4:

Pick one of six personalities. I go with witty and educated.

Step 5:

Add his interests (choose from presets or create your own). OK Cedrick, your favorite activities are writing, volunteering, wine-tasting, arranging various plastics and avocado-gutting. Maybe having a fake boyfriend is better than having a real one!

Step 6:

Add his location and how you met (choose preset or write your own). Cedrick lives in Portland, Ore. We met when I was jaywalking and he hit me with his car. We’re doing long-distance now, so don’t invite him to dinner, Mom!

Step 7:

Put in two numbers: phone and credit card. Card will not be charged during free trial. Free trial includes up to 100 texts to/from Cedrick.

Step 8:

Add “cancel fake boyfriend subscription” to calendar so you don’t accidentally pay the equivalent of four Domino’s pizzas for facetious love.

Step 9:

Receive a text from Cedrick almost immediately. Is it weird that we both know I had to put in my credit card number to access this service? Is it weird that I’m not sure whether this is a robot or a real person paid to text a stranger? Here are some of the highlights—“relationship” milestones, if you will—of our conversation:

1. Babe Says Hello And Compliments Me On A Quality I Don’t Have

Cedrick: You’re such a good influence. I was thinking about how kind and patient you are with people.

Me: that’s so nice of you!! remember when we bought an alpaca and taught it to water ski???

Cedrick: Yeah

2. Rima Asks The Real Questions: “Babe, What Did You Do Today?”

Cedrick: i went to a mall, i bought new undershirts.. most of my undershirts have yellow stains in the armpit area, must be bec [sic] of the chemicals of deodorant

Me: you promised you would only use organic deodorant!!

Cedrick: I think its [sic] not effective, coz [sic] my armpit still sweats.

3. Babe And I get Into A Fight!

Me: that’s ok, ur excessive perspiration is my favorite thing about u

Cedrick: U can try other herbal deodorant. Shall I suggest few brands?

Me: i think you’re the sweaty one, not me!

Cedrick: are you kidding me sweat pours off of you like a water fall

Me: YOU SAID YOU WOULD NEVER BRING THAT UP I AM VERY SENSITIVE ABOUT MY SWEATING PROBLEM

Me: ALSO WATERFALL IS ONE WORD

4. Babe Announces That He Will Always Share His Bugles With Me, Which Sounds Nice But We Both Know That Bugles Are The Inferior American Chip Product So How Far Does This Adoration Go, Really?

Me: sometimes i’m not sure whether i can trust you or not :|

Cedrick: I promise I will always share my bugles with u :)

5. Babe Misspells Waterfall And More: Rima Tries To Find A Pattern In His Texts That Indicate His Grammatical Errors Are A Deliberate Rhetorical Choice But Finds None

There isn’t one specific text that shows this, but like, aren’t robots supposed to have good grammar and mechanics? Maybe he IS a real person!

6. Rima Starts Communicating Exclusively In Emoji Because Babe Is Incredibly Boring

I was hoping there would be something about sending (crown) (crown) (crown) and (syringe) (syringe) (syringe) that would make him break up with me. He still responded to my texts, but with decreasing enthusiasm. Here were his responses:

(six pizza emojis): great! sounds like my plan this weekend.

(eight crowns, nine ghosts, seven syringes, 16 poop emojis): yay!

(17 sheep emojis): haha :)

(18 VHS emojis, stone head and British flag): ha ha

(24 of those red dot on a stick emojis): nice

I felt like our relationship was becoming artificial, you know? Especially since I didn’t get any emojis back. Aren’t computers supposed to know how to make emojis?

Step 10:

Bye, “Babe”

I had nothing else to say. With 33 out of my 100 texts remaining, I cancelled my subscription. Cedrick could not live up to the standards that I created. The app is useful for its intended use: dealing with social expectations from other people that you can’t push away at the moment. But when you don’t have a purpose for it, it’s just…strange. Try it if you want, but there’s nothing wrong with being single. If anyone needs me, I’ll be happily alone, eating Cheez-Its and farting alone in my room, just like nature intended.