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Hello, wishful thinking? It’s me, Holley.
“So, I take it we’re all set with our bachelor and his five lucky dates?”
“Yes.” I dig deep and force a smile to my face. “He has officially been chosen by the readers, and I’ll be meeting with the five selected women today.”
“How exciting!” She flashes a grin in my direction and rubs her hands together.
“Uh-huh.” I grind my back molars together. “So exciting.”
I’m probably the last woman on earth who should be spearheading a contest that involves helping people find love, yet here I am, pretending to be absolutely delighted. Call it survival. Call it a desire to keep my job. Call it a thirty-three-year-old woman in the middle of some kind of nervous breakdown. Whatever the reason for my agreement, the fact remains that I am a journalist through and through, and no matter the story, I will write it.
“So, tell me about our bachelor. What’s his name? What’s he like? Is he as hunky as we’re all hoping he’ll be?” she asks, her voice giddy and her short red hair bobbing up and down with each enthusiastic word. For a woman who can be such a hard-ass about deadlines, Gloria is the world’s biggest romantic. Her penchant for watching every single season of The Bachelor is proof of that. Also, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where she obtained the inspiration for this contest.
Thanks for nothing, Chris Harrison.
“His name is Jake Brent,” I answer, but I choose to skirt around the whole issue of my not actually being in contact with him yet. “And…he’s certainly something.”
“I have to tell you, Holley. I’m a little jealous that you get to be the one who goes on all the dates with our bachelor and witnesses the swoony romance in real-time,” she says through a little squeal. I swear to God, if her smile grows any bigger, it might break her damn face.
Yep. I’m so lucky. Not only do I get to run the whole freaking contest, I also get to discreetly attend the dates as a third wheel. FML.
“Well, you know, I’d be more than happy to let you take my place,” I respond without hesitation, but what I really want to say is, Seriously, Gloria, for the love of everything, put me out of my misery and sacrifice yourself to this stupid contest you created! “Pretty sure that’s the benefit of being the boss,” I add, in a sad, pathetic attempt to persuade her. “You get to call dibs on any assignment you want.”
“Don’t be silly.” She waves off my words with a casual hand. “You’re going to have so much fun with this.”
Oh yeah, Gloria. So much fun. A deathly, so-painful-it-feels-more-like-hell amount of fun.
“And what about his dates?” she asks. “Were you able to find five women that you think meet the criteria?”
Was I able to find five women? Yes.
Was it a horrible, mind-numbing process that took me days upon days of scouring through a weirdly peppy cesspool of hundreds and hundreds of female applicants? Also yes.
“Uh-huh. And actually, they should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so to sign NDAs and get abreast of how the contest will move forward.”
“Fantastic. Sounds like everything is running smoothly on your end, then.”
“Sure is.” Considering I’ve yet to officially talk to our Bachelor Anonymous, it’s safe to say things aren’t exactly running smoothly. But if there’s one thing you learn as a journalist early on, only tell your dictator—I mean editor in chief—what you need to tell them. And right now, all Gloria needs to know is that the contest is in progress.
“Well, if you don’t mind,” I add before she can ask me any more giddy fucking questions I don’t have answers to. “I’m going to head out and get ready for my meeting with the five women.” She gives a little nod of approval, and I waste zero time hauling ass out of her office.
Once I’m settled at my desk, I prepare myself for the first priority of the day—the nerve-racking phone call to Mr. Bachelor himself.
It takes several deep breaths and numerous more read-throughs of the bullet-pointed and numbered notes I took in preparation.
1. Name: Jake Brent. (Don’t forget to identify yourself as Holley Fields from the Tribune!)
2. Tell him the readers loved his personal ad submission and he has been selected as the Bachelor in the SoCal Tribune’s Bachelor Anonymous Contest.
3. Give some time for him to react positively; act supportive and excited.
4. Tell him it’s best if we get together in person to go over all the details and sign some paperwork; ask what time works best for him. Possible locations if he doesn’t suggest any: Grey Street Coffee, Ballard’s Restaurant.
5. Don’t forget to ask if he has any questions about the way the contest works; detailed rules and procedures listed on paper under this one.
