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I scroll through my music selection and pull out one of my best romance mixes with music from the eighties and nineties. Something about dinner in that restaurant stirs up my fascination with the music from my childhood.
Lionel Richie’s “Hello” comes on, and I take a big gulp of my wine.
Man, what a day. Following Jake through his daily life to prep for this article has equated to being one of the longest days of my life, but I have to admit, it’s also been beyond enjoyable. I’ve done and seen things today I’ve never done or seen before—to be honest, most of the day felt that way. But Jake was always good about explaining or making me feel included, and I’m extremely grateful.
I could fall into bed right now if I let myself and hibernate for a full twenty-four hours, but I have to stay up and write this article. This is the article, the start of the whole Bachelor Anonymous feature. The hook that needs to ensure SoCal Tribune readers will keep coming back for more.
Another sip of wine down the hatch, I try to focus my thoughts on what I’m going to put on the page. Our readers have to be interested in the bachelor himself, or this will be for nothing at all.
Though, after spending what feels like a full twenty-four hours with Jake, I can say with certainty getting people interested in him shouldn’t be a problem.
Unfortunately for me, though, that means a lot of responsibility sits on my shoulders. I have to do him justice somehow in the confines of a short feature. I have to capture his magnetism with nothing more than the written word. No pressure or anything.
Yeah. I definitely have to write this article tonight, before I go to bed. I have to get the words down while the day is still fresh in my mind—while I’m still trapped in the emotional web Jake spun for me today.
I shake my head to clear it as it tries to focus back on the end of the night—the one part of the whole day that I cannot think about while I write this—and force it back to the beginning of the day. To the beach and the ocean and the unbelievably confident way he commands them.
To his history as a Navy SEAL and the story he told of Chloe’s birth.
To the honesty and openness he showed me, someone he was in no way obligated to welcome into his life and his secrets.
I grab my wineglass again and take another big gulp. My skin is tingling, and I’m not sure if it’s from the buzz of the air conditioning kicking on or the hit of the wine or the power of the music playing from my stereo, but I rub at my arms and try to extinguish it.
With a lick of my lips, I reset my fingers on the keyboard and prepare to type. This article isn’t going to write itself; I know this to be true. The best thing I can do right now is let the words pour out of me naturally.
I can worry about revising it and perfecting it after the bones are established.Not Your Average Romeo
Bachelor Anonymous has been selected, ladies. And you better get ready to hold on to your hats…because this single dad brings quite a bit to the table.
A former military man, BA starts his mornings in the swells of the ocean, conditioning his body and mind to be ready for anything. He’s strong and capable and downright impressive in his physical ability, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this man. He’s emotionally real and raw, and the openness he uses when approaching life, no matter the tragedies he’s faced, would bring most men to their knees. But not Bachelor Anonymous. He’s a single dad with a cape—and his superpower is unconditional love.
People he cares about aren’t limited to a small circle of family and close friends, though. His care and understanding spread all the way to simple acquaintances and employees, and he’s just as dedicated to them as his own daughter.
It’s impressive to witness, to say the least, and after spending a few short hours with him in the morning, I knew that although he may be seeking his Juliet…he’s not your average Romeo.I take a deep breath and scan through what I’ve written thus far.
To some, it might seem like hyperbole, the way I’ve portrayed him. But the truth is, if anything, I’ve dialed my language back. What’s real and ripe in my mind sounds way, way too much like a love letter. I want desperately to fill in more details and personal accounts, but that’s not the point of this thing at all.
The point is intrigue. Mystery. A little bit of truth.
