For the Right Reasons (11 page)

Christmas and New Year’s came and went, and I caught myself thinking more about the show than I admitted to Shay and Andrew. But one January morning, my phone rang again.

“Hello, Sean,” said Tabby. “I’m calling to invite you to be a part of a casting call in Los Angeles over the weekend.”

Casting call
was not in my normal vocabulary. I spent my time using terms such as
accelerated death benefits
,
annuitization
, and
insurance premium
. So when I rushed into Andrew’s office to tell him the news, it felt nice to hear the words roll off my tongue.

Andrew picked up his phone. “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

“I haven’t told Mom about this,” I said. Everyone in the family was aware of my new
Bachelorette
option, except Mom. There’s no way my mom, a traditional, Southern woman, would like to hear that her son was heading off to be on a reality TV show.

I urged Andrew not to tell her. “There’s no reason to alarm her, especially since it’s unlikely to happen.”

I flew into LAX on Friday. When I landed, there was a driver holding a sign with “Lowe” written on it. I’d never been greeted by a driver, and a shot of electricity went through me.

Is this really happening?

“Mr. Lowe?” he asked, taking my bags and ushering me to his black town car parked at the airport. We drove for a while until we got to an out-of-the-way hotel. A staff member of
The Bachelorette
met me in my room, gave me a schedule for the weekend, and told me what to expect.

“Your interview is scheduled at three o’clock. But don’t come out of your room,” he said. “If you need anything, give me a call.”

“No problem,” I said, looking around the small room that was going to be my home for a couple of days.

“But why all the secrecy?”

“From here on out,” he said, “everything’s a secret. There are reporters everywhere who’d love to get a photo of potential next bachelors. We have to keep you hidden.”

“Okay,” I said, as if hiding from roving reporters were the most normal thing in the world.

“Seriously, I’ll make sure you have all the food and drink you want,” he said as he was leaving. “But
don’t
come out of your room.”

“Wait,” I remember asking him. “Am I the first guy to arrive?”

“I honestly can’t say,” he said before ducking out of the room.

I sat down on the bed, took off my shoes, and flipped on the television. There was a minibar that had small bottles of alcohol and candy bars, but none was on my list of Sagi-approved foods. Suddenly, all those days of eating according to my schedule seemed as though they might pay off. If the producers liked me, it would be because of my personality—but it couldn’t hurt that I now had a great six-pack.

The small room’s window looked out into a boring parking lot, and the television couldn’t distract me from the thoughts running through my head. When it was finally time for my interview, I couldn’t wait to get out of the hotel room. I was more excited than nervous about it. I was the type of guy who always hit it off with my friends’ parents. How much different would it be to impress the producers of
The Bachelorette
?

“Hello, I’m Chloe Kingston,” a woman said to me, extending her hand. “I’m one of the producers, and I’ll be asking you questions.”

The room wasn’t huge. It had a small table set up with candy and soda along the wall. A cameraman had set up a camera in front of a chair. Chloe sat slightly away to the left of the camera.

“I know it’s strange to be filmed, but act naturally,” she said. “There are no wrong answers. We’re just trying to get to know you.”

“Sounds good,” I said. Chloe was in her early thirties, with blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. I had never met a producer for a television show, but I imagined them to be more businesslike and professional. It turns out the producers of
The Bachelorette
are very personable and not formal whatsoever. Part of their job is to befriend cast members so they’ll later open up to the producers during interviews.

“What’s your dream girl?” she asked.

“I want someone I can laugh with,” I said, suddenly realizing I was already sounding like a cliché. “I want someone who doesn’t take life too seriously. You know, someone who could be my best friend.”

She nodded affirmatively as I spoke, as if what I was saying were profound.

“What are your future goals?” she asked. After I explained that I didn’t want to sell insurance for the rest of my life, she followed up with, “What do you hope to get out of this experience?”

Her questions were rapid-fire and ranged from my upbringing to my football career.

After about thirty minutes, she closed the folder that had been in her lap, stood up, and said, “You did great! Now I want you to meet a couple of my friends.”

She walked me into another room connected to the room where we’d just interviewed.

Much to my surprise, about twenty people were sitting in chairs in a semicircle in front of a television. Immediately, I felt my face turn red. I was overwhelmed at the thought that they’d just seen everything.

“Wow,” I managed to say. “I didn’t realize I had an audience.”

They all looked at me with big smiles. Well, at least they seemed happy to see me.

“Please,” Chloe said, motioning to a chair in front of the semicircle. “Have a seat.”

If I thought the last interview was intense, this was an inquisition. They started throwing questions at me from all over the room.

“What’s your biggest fear?”

“What is your biggest strength?”

“What do you hope to get out of life?”

I answered all their questions with ease. They made me feel comfortable because they laughed at my jokes. That’s basically all it takes with me.

“What sort of woman do you typically date?” they asked.

“Well, I don’t discriminate,” I said, “if that’s what you mean. I’ve dated a woman who is Hispanic, someone who’s mixed-race, a girl from Jordan . . . I judge women based on their values, whether we get along, not their race. After all, opposites attract!”

“And what kind of values would you say you have?”

“I’m a man of faith,” I said. Then I added a bit more specificity. “I’m a Christian.”

When I said the word
Christian
, I wondered if that would be a strike against me. However, it seemed as though everyone liked what they were hearing. I didn’t know what they were looking for. Most candidates think the show is looking for someone who has all the right answers. I later learned they were actually looking to see if I was personable and whether I would “show up” on television.

I walked back to my hotel room feeling like I’d just nailed it. I stretched out on the bed, looked at the ceiling, and laughed
. What a weird experience
. Just then, I was yanked out of my reverie when my phone rang.

Mom.

“Hey, do you want to come over for dinner?” she asked.

I was completely at a loss for words.

“Everyone’s going to be here,” she said. “So I might need you to pick up some things on the way.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t.”

“Okay, well, you can come over after church on Sunday if you’d like.”

“Mom,” I said, realizing that the next words that came out of my mouth would hurt her. “I’m not in town. I’m in Los Angeles.”

“What?” she said. “Since when? Why? Who are you with?”

I decided I’d gotten far enough in the casting process that it wasn’t kind to keep her in the dark, so I was completely honest.

“I’m at a casting call for
The Bachelorette
.”

She paused for a couple of seconds, then laughed.

“No, really,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Andrew and Shay submitted an application for me,” I said, believing it might be a good idea to lay a little blame on them. “I didn’t even know about it.”

“Why would you want to go on a trashy television show like that?” she asked. Then she added, “Does Dad know?”

Slowly, Mom began to understand the situation. For months, everyone in the family knew this was a possibility, and we’d kept it only from her. I could tell she was upset by the tone in her voice and the way she clipped her sentences.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, realizing how hurtful this must be for her. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far, and I didn’t want you to get upset for no reason.”

She ended the conversation by faking her normal “mom voice” to cover up what I knew was sadness and maybe a little anger.

“Okay, well, maybe you can make it next weekend,” she said before she hung up.

I felt terrible. Mom was devastated—probably in equal amounts—that I was auditioning for the show and that we’d kept her out of the loop.

When I went back to Dallas, my life suddenly seemed duller than ever, and it didn’t help that I’d alienated my mom. A couple of days after I settled back into my normal routine, my phone rang again.

“I just want you to know,” Mom said in a soft voice, “that I really want you to get this. If you’re selected, I’ll be your biggest supporter.”

I don’t care that I was twenty-eight years old. I’ll never get so old that my mom’s approval doesn’t mean something.

For the next few weeks, the casting director would call to check up on me, to see how I was doing, and to answer any questions I might have.

I was at work when “the call” came, which was appropriate since Andrew and Shay were the instigators of all this.

“Hello, Sean,” said Tabby. “I’m happy to offer you an official invitation to be a part of
The Bachelorette
.”

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed. But not with a desire to find true love on a reality TV show.

I wanted to win.

“What are you going to wear?” Andrew asked as I was packing to go a few weeks later.

“Since when are you concerned about my wardrobe?” I laughed.

“Just be thankful you’re not a girl,” Shay said, settling in to the couch next to Andrew. “Guys can get a couple of suits, several ties, and call it a day.”

“Tell that to the producers,” I said, pulling out the packet of instructions they’d sent me. “I have to bring enough clothes for up to two months, including swimsuits, heavy coats, sweaters, T-shirts, tank tops, casual day clothes, gloves, and hats.”

“Think about all the amazing places you’ll go,” she gushed. “All over the world, probably.” She got off the couch, peeked at the papers, and began reading over my shoulder. “You have to ‘avoid stripes, small checkered patterns, big patterns, and solid white,’ ” she said. “Plus, you have to ‘be prepared for fourteen formal occasions for the show’s rose ceremonies.’ ”

“Fourteen?” I asked. “That’s a lot of clothes. And it’s all supposed to fit in two bags.”

“Don’t worry,” Andrew said. “You’ll probably be sent home on the first night.”

Shay rolled her eyes, but I didn’t mind. In fact, when I was in Los Angeles for my casting call, Andrew had sent me an encouraging text:

Mark my words: you’re going to win.

I made a note of the date and his exact words in my phone so I’d remember his message. Not only did I appreciate the support from my family, but it also helped that my boss was fine with me going off on this little lark to North Carolina.

The next Bachelorette, Emily Maynard, who’d gotten engaged to—and soon separated from—Bachelor Brad Womack in a previous season, was
from Charlotte. Her tragic story had been repeated several times on the show: she’d been engaged to a NASCAR driver when he died in a plane crash in 2004. Just days later, she found out she was pregnant with his child, whom she named after her fiancé: Ricki. When she went on
The Bachelor
, it looked as if she had finally found love again, but her engagement to Brad was short-lived.

In my opinion, Emily was a great choice, and not just because she was gorgeous. In addition to her brown eyes and blonde hair, she had wit, grace, and Southern charm.

There was no way I’d fall in love with her.

I know, I know. It
is
a show about love. I’d watched it enough to understand that. When I was chosen to go on the show, I went back and watched the season of
The Bachelor
on which Emily was a contestant. It reminded me a little of watching film back in college as we prepared for a big football game—except with a few more cocktail dresses. At that time, only two of the official Bachelors or Bachelorettes had tied the knot. The original Bachelorette, Trista Rehn, married season 1 winner Ryan Sutter, while season 7 Bachelorette, Ashley Hebert, married J. P. Rosenbaum. No Bachelors had ever tied the knot with the girl they selected on the show.