My Reality (10 page)

And, little did I know just how right I was . . .

J
ust like that, a completely new chapter in my life opened. As I was soon to learn, it wasn’t just my surroundings and my day-to-day life that had changed, but, really, everything about my reality. Not to mention the way that I thought about love, life, relationships, and, of course, myself.

It was the beginning of a time that I now call the “Bachelor Bubble.” I entered a reality unlike any I had ever been in before. An environment that made me feel and act in ways I’d never imagined myself feeling or acting. But at the time, I was very naïve about this world, and so I thought of the whole process as such an innocent adventure.

I flew into Los Angeles International Airport on a Monday, two days before filming was scheduled to begin. I had so many emotions running through my body. On one hand, I couldn’t wait to move into the mansion, make new friends, and just have some much needed
fun.
On the other hand, I couldn’t stop thinking about that blond-haired, blue-eyed boy back in Dallas. But still, I knew I needed to
start a new chapter in my life, and what better time than now? I hadn’t spoken with anybody from the show since I’d met with the producers during the last round of auditions, and I had absolutely no clue what I was getting myself into. Oddly enough, I still wasn’t nervous; the mystery of it all was part of the excitement!

When I landed at LAX, I walked downstairs to the exit and saw a chauffeur holding a sign with my name on it. That was a new experience for me.

I’ve never had a driver before! LA is so glamorous!

I was particularly impressed when, after I went down to baggage claim, a paparazzi photographer came scurrying over and started taking pictures of me. He literally chased me and my driver out into the parking lot. I couldn’t believe it!

How do they know I’m a cast member? Is this what happens when you’re on the show?

I assumed the attention had to be
Bachelor
related. Clearly, he had seen my name and known that I was in LA to film the show. I realized that this was going to be an even crazier experience than I had thought.

When the photographer followed me to the car and forced me to slam the door on him, the driver looked impressed.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Even though I was excited, I knew better than to think I was some big deal.

“I think he mistook me for somebody else,” I said. “Because I’m really nobody. Does this happen a lot here?”

The driver then kindly explained another reason for the special attention, and it had nothing to do with me being an overnight celebrity. Apparently, there’s a special concierge at LAX who helps only celebrities with their bags, and for some unknown reason,
that’s who had carried my luggage for me. Maybe he felt sorry for me when he saw me struggling with my two oversized suitcases. Who knows? But when the photographer saw the concierge with me, he must have assumed I was someone. He probably looked at his pictures later and felt sorry that he’d wasted the energy it took to snap them, because, of course, nobody knew or cared who I was at that point. Regardless, it was still a pretty cool way to start my trip! Definitely something to call home about!

Heck, I just got paparazzi’d!

We drove straight to my hotel, which I couldn’t tell you the location of if I tried. I’d never been to LA, except for
The Bachelor
audition, and I was actually a little disappointed by my first real view of the city. I don’t know if I thought there would be neon lights flashing everywhere, and the word
Hollywood
plastered all over everything, but my impression was that it was kind of average and looked like anyplace else in the world. There were buildings. There were cars. Really, LA was just another city. Except for the infamous Hollywood sign, which was really cool to see in person. And the wildfires!

Let me just tell you, fire is my biggest fear in the world! I live right in the middle of Tornado Alley, and it doesn’t worry me at all. But fire, that’s a whole other story. And the day I arrived in LA, there happened to be wildfires raging outside the city.

Great.

My initial excitement about LA, which had started with the paparazzi, faded quickly as I smelled the woodsy, smoky fumes that permeated the air outside the car. The driver could tell I was a little nervous about the wildfires, and he did his best to reassure me that we’d be fine. But when I got out of the car at the hotel, it smelled like we were all going down in flames, and that really freaked me
out. Call me a bit dramatic, but this was
not
the two-week vacation I thought I had signed up for!

I had a lot of time by myself until the filming began. I stayed in a hotel, and had nothing to do but drown myself in all the thoughts running through my head. I could only go over the possible scenarios so many times, but I had fun imagining what could be. I would sit and practice what I would do the first time I stepped out of the limo. Maybe I would come out and be fun and spunky? Or maybe I would take the shy approach? Or maybe I would just focus on the walk from the limo to Jason and try not to trip.

And then there was the ever important decision of wardrobe. What the heck was I going to wear to the first cocktail party? I had brought a couple options. I had the ever popular cocktail dress, if I decided to play the fun and spunky role. Or I had the long, formal gown if I decided to take a sophisticated approach.

Who the heck am I kidding? Do I really care what I look like or what I’m wearing?

Once I was done playing fantasy and dress up, I looked around my room, and it suddenly seemed very lonely and empty. Well, at least I had the TV, so I had that to keep me entertained. Well, let me be specific: I had the Disney Channel. That was it. I found myself highly engaged in a daylong
Hannah Montana
marathon.

So there I was: alone in LA, watching
Hannah Montana
, and playing dress up with the clothes I had packed.
Is this really the step up from the birthday at Medieval Times that I was looking for? Hmph. . .

As anyone who’s ever been in a situation similar to this, being alone with your thoughts is a dangerous place to be. The more you think, the more your emotions change. I think I spanned the entire emotional spectrum in about three hours, with my thoughts mainly going back to my status with Tye.

Even though I was feeling more and more self-sufficient by the day, there was still a part of me that wanted to check back in with him to see if my newfound independence had impressed him enough to want me back yet. He probably didn’t think I’d really go, and I did. Maybe now that I was gone, he missed me.

I know, I know!
I was a work in progress. Be patient with me. . .

I couldn’t help myself. I called him. It was the middle of the day, so he was at work. He picked up, but he couldn’t talk. I told him that I would call him back later in the day, when I knew he’d be off work, because I had something important to ask him. He agreed, and we hung up. I was actually kind of glad he couldn’t really talk then; it gave me more time to think about how I was going to ask him what I needed to know.

Even though we’d been through this time and time again, I still couldn’t leave well enough alone. I needed to know the answer to the Big Question: Did he even
want
me to come back?

Now, looking back, I know he had basically given me that answer—several times—and clearly, I just wasn’t listening. Or actually . . . I just didn’t
want
to listen. I think I honestly thought that Tye was just playing the best game of Hard-to-Get.
Again . . . I know. . . .

I watched the clock closely, and once I knew he was done with work, I lifted the phone to my ear. I had butterflies in my stomach as I considered what his response might be. I hesitated for a moment before dialing his number.

But something wasn’t right . . . there was no dial tone!
What the heck?
I tried several times, just to be sure, but there was no getting through. Clearly, this was another blaring sign that just whizzed right past me. I should have taken it as a huge signal that that part of my life was over—and this was not the time to revisit it. But no. . .

At the time, I was devastated. Looking back, though, I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with his answer. Either way, it would have crushed me. If he had said he wanted me to come home, I would have wanted to leave on the next plane to Dallas. And if he had said that I should stay in LA as planned, it would have been just as painful as hearing him urging me to leave in the first place. And I’m not even sure how it would have affected me if he had told me he wasn’t waiting for me. Option A: It would have damaged me even more than I already was, and I would have just moped my way through the Rose Ceremony, probably leading to an early exit. Or, Option B: It would have made me more determined than ever to look my best on the show, and I’d be in it to win it. Just to really show him.

So, regardless of what Tye would have said to me over the phone that afternoon, the whole outcome of the show almost certainly would have been different.

Not that I felt quite that cavalier about it in the moment. I don’t know why I kept setting myself up for heartbreak like I did. If I had been totally honest with myself, I would have had to admit that I knew that Tye wasn’t going to beg me to come back. I considered myself “damaged goods,” and I didn’t really believe I deserved more than what I’d had with Tye. I realized I wasn’t going into
The Bachelor
with an open heart, because I had left half my heart back at home. I may have thought I was ready for an adventure and a new start, but I was also very hurt and very vulnerable—a dangerous combination that would cause me to cling to anything that might make me feel better.

Clearly, I needed a serious intervention. And that’s exactly what
The Bachelor
was. Let me just say, this was one surefire way to get over unrequited love. It took me to a whole different city. I couldn’t
have any communication with Tye. And I was thrown into a new journey that kept me completely absorbed at all times. It was hard at first, but ultimately, it was very freeing. Of course, at that moment, I still had no idea what was in store for me.

I had no idea how big the audience for
The Bachelor
was, and I wasn’t expecting to be one of the girls who people remembered. From past seasons, I knew that no one really paid attention to anyone but the Bachelor or Bachelorette. After that people were always going, “Gosh dang it, who was the blonde one on that one season? The one with the blue eyes?”

So I wasn’t overly concerned about how l looked, which was good, because I had just gotten this haircut that I hated. It was an attempt gone awry of having that post-breakup-makeover that’s supposed to make you look so much hotter after the breakup than you did before. Mission totally not accomplished. It looked more like a frizzy, Rachel Do from the ’90s than hot bombshell I was aiming for.
Awesome.
And I don’t think I was in the best shape of my life, either, but I wasn’t too concerned about it.

Finally, the first Rose Ceremony day arrived. I had all day to get ready. Of course, I finished really early, just because I had nothing else to do. I did my own makeup. I did my own hair. I got my own dress on. I had decided to wear this long, skintight, strapless black dress that I had borrowed from Reagan. I figured I’d go the sophisticated route. Problem was, it was probably a size too small! But I had decided it made me look elegant and grown up, so I was determined to wear it. Never mind that I couldn’t breathe. Never mind that I couldn’t walk, so much as waddle. And never mind that I had to sort of lean back to sit down. The dress was a hot mess, and, emotionally, so was I. But I looked good! And, ladies, we all know that’s all that matters.

And then, because I had nothing else to do, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my room and practiced meeting Jason. I looked at my reflection and psyched myself up:
I’m confident. I’m good.

I worked on what my introduction to him would be like.
Should I talk first? Or wait for him to speak to me? Do I hug him? Or do we shake hands? And what if I trip on the way out? Oh my gosh! What if I’m a complete disaster?!

I immediately stopped rehearsing and didn’t think about anything anymore. It would be easier to just go with the flow and let it happen naturally. I became calm and started to get excited; excited to get out of the room, excited to meet the girls, and excited to meet Jason. I paced around, waiting for the knock on the door that meant we were ready to go.

The anticipation was building, and building, and building! I met the first group of girls when I got into my limo to head to the mansion. I sized them up, having no idea how big a role any of them were about to play in my life.

Wow, they’re beautiful.

I was immediately surprised that the girls were actually really nice and sweet. I have to believe we were all running through the same emotions, and it felt good to finally be able to share my feelings with other people! The anxiety I’d had about the night quickly vanished, and I began to legitimately enjoy myself.

Now this isn’t so bad! I can totally get along with these girls!

I was just getting used to what it felt like to be there, when I became nervous for a whole new reason.

I’m clearly the underdog. These four women are stunning, not to mention the other twenty women I haven’t met yet.

So I decided that my plan of attack would be to just stay in the
background and do my thing. I’m definitely not overly aggressive, but I’m no wallflower. I’d also never actively pursued a guy. (Wait: well, I’d never
successfully
pursued a guy!)

As we got closer to our destination, the nerves started to pick up with all of us. Our limo pulled up in front and stopped. I think I felt my heart drop in my stomach.
Here we go . . . No turning back now.