I am bursting with excitement as I push my way into Conner's apartment, my arms stuffed with bags from the mall. He looks up with arched eyebrows as I set the bags down on his island, where he's seated with his laptop open.

"This wasn't supposed to be a shopping spree," he says in that annoyingly superior tone of his.

"And it wasn't," I say curtly.

I pull out a bag of Chicago mix popcorn from the first bag and some chocolate-covered popcorn from the same shop. "For Candice and her husband, Byron. They love this stuff but never get out with their little one." I then pull out a lotion and bath set from the next bag. "For Mel to thank her for pushing me to do this....and last but not least!"

I first pull the Rissa bear out, and Conner's eyes light up, and he starts laughing. The more he looks at it, the harder he laughs, and I begin to scowl.

I did go a little extra, but that was the point, right? I picked a pink bear as the base and dressed her in a fabulous purple dress. I added shimmer by pasting a bunch of little glittery circles on the dress. Her hair is flawlessly waved like an old-school movie star at a premiere, and I went all out on the jewelry! I even pasted false eyelashes on her and gave her a pull-pouty red lip.

My favorite part was the heels. I found black pumps and painted them red underneath to look like Loubtain's. She also has a little black clutch that matches the shoes, and I made that all glittery, too.

"Stop laughing, she's perfect!" I scold Conner even as he continues laughing. "And she is not all. I made this for your couch. You need at least one personal decoration here."

I pull the Conner bear out next. I went with a blue teddy bear as the base. I dressed him in a beige sweater with matching dressy tan pants and little oxford shoes, just like Conner wears. I made sure to perfect that curly dark hair, too, and of course, the thick-framed glasses.

For accessories, he's wearing a watch and has a laptop tucked under his arm, but to add a splash of fun, I gave him a silly apron; it has a smiley-faced steak on it and says "nice to meat you" in cartoonish letters.

I expect him to crack up even harder now, but he's gone silent, looking taken aback as he takes the bear from me.

"You made this... for me?" He looks so... touched, or maybe just surprised?

"I lost my guessing game, so instead of getting myself shoes, I did a second bear."

"This is great, it's... thank you," he stammers.

"I thought maybe you'd hate it, and I'd have to force you to set it out."

"Oh, so you made it to annoy me?" His tone lightens as he teases.

"Does it?" I ask, suddenly feeling nervous; what's that about?

"No, not at all, I like it. "

"You do?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "The glasses and the outfit. It's perfect. I'd never wear this apron, though."

"Don't challenge me, Conner," I warn. "I will find that exact apron and make you wear it."

He makes a face and then sets it down on the island. I set the Rissa doll next to it, and then I snap a pic of them.

"You remembered I like blue," he comments.

"Of course, I've already started looking at your paint options. I say we do alternate shades of blue from the kitchen to the living."

"I rent, I can't paint."

"Actually, sometimes, they'll let you if they approve the color and blues we could probably get approved. I can convince them."  

"We're not painting."

"Please?"

"No. Leave my apartment alone. Let's go sit and talk about your date."

He motions for me to follow him, and we head into the living area. We get comfortable, me in his recliner and Conner on his couch. He has a notebook in his hand to take notes.

"I noticed how you did little things for people today to make them smile. Is that a quality you'd like to see in someone you date, remembering key details like that? Colors, favorite foods, and stuff?"

"Yeah, guess so," I say, and he jots that down. 

"Is that what this is? Figuring out what qualities I want in a guy?"

"A part of it," he says.

"What are we figuring out? Is there like a list or something?" I ask.

"It's an experiment, so no, we don't have a checklist to follow. We don't know what we'll discover or when, especially this early on."

"Why does it need to be a year?" I question. "Just because Mel is doing a single year doesn't mean I need to. We can do a series of dates, figure out what we need to fix me, and be done in like two months."

"That's not— two months is totally unrealistic."

"Not if I go out every night; that would be sixty dates."

"Would you go out with someone you're dating every single night for two months straight?"

"Well, no, but—"

"I knew you'd bring up the timeline, and I get it. I have a feeling it'll come up when I meet with my publishing team on Monday, too; they wanted a new book yesterday, so waiting a year for me to start writing it isn't going to sit well with them."

"Then we can shorten it," I say quickly as relief floods through me. "Every other day would be thirty dates."

"No," he cuts me off again, ugh he's so rude. "This isn't just me sending you on a bunch of random dates, and poof, it all comes together after a certain number of them. Remember the first book, Dating with a Purpose? You're solo dating but still with a purpose."

"What do you mean?"

"What we are essentially doing here is emulating what an ideal relationship would be like for you, starting from date one."

"So I'm supposed to pretend I'm my own girlfriend? Do I call myself pet names?"

"I'm surprised you don't already." He rolls his eyes. "I know it feels silly, but you are essentially developing a relationship with yourself. I asked for a year because your main goal is marriage. Through my research and experience, I find most relationships need about a year before they know they want to get married. A year allows you not only dating time but holidays, vacations, and not to mention all the other highs and lows of life."

"I disagree with that. I think you can know much sooner than a year. Candice said she knew Byron was the one right away; she said she had this feeling and obviously was right."

"I'm not saying that's true for everyone, but–"

"I'm extra broken?"

"We aren't using that word anymore," he chides. "You may be lost, but you're not broken, okay? You went out today and put your all into this thing; that's all we can ask in a relationship, too."

"I do give everything I can when dating someone."

"I believe you do. I get it. A year is long, but it doesn't have to be set in stone, okay? If we can end this sooner, we will. But there's an important question I'll ask now and again, later, and until the answer is what it needs to be, we keep doing this. Is that fair?"

"Yeah, that's fair," I agree slowly. "What's the question?"

"Would you, as you are right now, marry yourself?"

"Like I can actually answer that! I can't marry myself."

"What I mean is if all your quirks, qualities, way of life, career, goals, and all of that was wrapped up in a man. Would you want to marry him?"

I envision a male version of myself and start giggling at the image.

"You need to take this seriously," Conner warns.

"I am," I snip irritably.

"Rissa," he draws my name out like it's a bad word.

"Okay, the answer is yes, of course I would!"

"You can't answer it that fast. Take a second and actually think about it. Who are you as a man?"

"Well, I'm no Jude Law, but I'd say I'd be pretty hot."

"Jude Law? Thought you'd say Jason Mamoa or something."

"He's too buff, plus I like how Jude always looks so put together. That man can fill out a suit."

"Is being well-dressed something you normally look for in men you date now?"

"No, half the time, the guys I date show up in dirty tee shirts," I scoff. "I spend hours, sometimes even days, planning what to wear on a date. I would like a guy to put some effort into his look, too."

He nods and notes that down.

"What other things about yourself would make you great to date as a guy?"

"I'd be married-minded, so that would be a big one."

He makes his notes and then looks up. "What else?"

"Well, I'm an amazing gift giver, so I'd be great at spoiling someone."

"So good-looking, ready to settle down, well dressed, and generous with gifts are what you feel would be good qualities in a husband."

"That makes me sound really superficial," I say with a cringe.

"No, actually, I don't think it does," he argues. "I think what you meant by gifts is what you did today. You knew your friends liked that popcorn, so you grabbed it for them. The gift to Melanie may have been a thank you, but I assume you bought her something she would want or like, right?"

"I lived with her, so I know what lotions she uses," I agree.

"And the teddy bear you made for me, why did you do that?"

"I thought it would look nice in your boring house."

He laughs, his gaze darting over to the two teddy bears; they look kind of cute sitting on the island like they're watching over us.

"When you talk about someone who gives good gifts, what you mean is someone who pays attention, just like you do," Conner explains. "That's not superficial. Being someone who remembers those key things is huge. You want to make the people around you feel good, and that's an amazing quality to have, Rissa."

"Thanks," I say, a slight flush coming to my cheeks.

"But how often does someone you're dating surprise you with a thoughtful gift or something?"

"Honestly...never," I confess. "I work with a lot of young people in the dating scene; they love to brag about the good morning texts, and when I see someone get flowers shipped to the office, I... uh, sometimes want to take a lighter to them."

He laughs heartily, and I can't help but join in.

"So I think we can conclude a few things from this," Conner says once we finally calm down. "You're a giver, and when it comes to your friends, that makes you feel good. But when it comes to dating, it doesn't feel as good, does it? Because you don't get the same energy back."

"I mean, men like to play hard to get and keep their cards close, you know? Would I like flowers and whatever? Sure. But I understand men don't do that."

"But you just said you see it all the time with the younger people at work," he reminds me.

"Stop using my own words against me," I groan.

"If a man wants you, he will make the effort. If he's not giving you anything, he doesn't care enough to bother. Don't settle for less and pretend it's fine."

"I don't do that," I deny as I slump down, my eyes darting to the floor.

"You do, and you do it at work, too; you told me that last night. You said you work all this overtime and bust your butt all the time, and do you ever get acknowledged for that?"

"I will someday soon. I know I will!"

"You have to stop playing pretend in your head and start facing facts. Things aren't going to magically happen for you, Rissa. You have to fight for them."

"I do! I fight all the time, and not just with the customers. I stay late, and I work hard and —"

"Fighting is standing up for yourself and demanding the recognition you deserve. You are letting everyone walk all over you and assuming someday they'll reward you for it, but they won't. Because the more you bend, the less they respect you."

I blanch at that, and an apologetic look crosses his face. "It won't do you any good for me to sugarcoat stuff. You have to face yourself in this. The dates will be fun. This part won't."

"This part sucks," I whine.

"I know, but if you truly want this to go faster than a year, you have to be willing to do the work."

"But you think I need the year," I point out.

"You haven't answered the question yet. Let's circle back to that. Would you marry a man if he had all the same qualities as you?"

"I mean, I think so--"

"Hold on, we only talked about the qualities that you think would be good in a partner. Let's switch gears. What are some things about yourself you wouldn't like?"

"I don't know," I mutter.

"One thing, just tell me one thing, and then we can wrap this part up, and you can tell me about building the bears, okay?"

"Okay," I relent. "The career thing, I guess, would maybe bug me. I mean, I wouldn't judge a guy for having an entry-level position for so many years, but I'd prefer someone more established."

"Rissa,  I want you to reword that without saying words like, I  guess, or I'd prefer, but..."

"You're so annoying. Can I have some wine first?"

"If you answer the question honestly. I'll open a bottle and order a pizza."

"Fine," I say. "I wouldn't like the reason he's entry-level."

"What reason is that?"

"He lets everyone take advantage of him and never stands up for himself. I don't think I'd find that very attractive in a man," I confess, the words as bitter as the knot in my gut.

"Good! This is good; it's progress," Conner says as he jots some notes into his book.

"Is it? Because the answer to the question is no, Conner. I wouldn't. Marry me."

The knot grows bigger, and I feel so crushed. It hurts realizing this, but I stay strong, refusing to cry in front of him. I'll do that later in the shower, a good dramatic cry. I'll play Taylor Swift and get the neighbors all pissed at me.

"I know," Conner says softly. "I knew before I asked it, and I knew the answer would be hard to swallow. The key is for you to figure out why, and we will."

"Sure," I shrug with a dejected frown. "Let's keep figuring out how much of a loser I am."

"That's not what this is," he says calmly. "It's anything but. Rissa, you will have to face things you don't like about yourself in this. But when I ask this question again, your answer will be different. I promise you that."