the bachelor

Everywhere I go, people are always asking me what it was like being on the reality television show, the Bachelor.

Random people, like my mailman who is in fact a woman. Or that nice lady up at Von's supermarket who'll ask me fifteen million times during check out if I found everything okay. I'm always thinking, 'nothing's changed since the last time you asked me 1.5 seconds ago,' but as usual, I'm always cordial.

"Yes, Veronica... every one's really nice here at Von's." I'll smile. "They made perfectly sure I found everything... perfectly!"

Veronica usually studies my face for sarcasm, or perhaps she's quietly wondering to herself if she's already asked me the question that's moments away from being asked: "You were on the Bachelor, weren't you? Wow! What was that like?"

"Well, kissing the girls was fun... and I kissed every-single-one of them." I'll casually say before winking, "and going on all of those trips was great too. And you know? I didn't have to pay for any of it."

"Wow!" She'll reply.

As always, I'll nod and say, "I know."

Satisfied, Veronica will smile and bid me farewell until next time, which I'm hoping will be later rather than sooner. In fact, I'll make a mental note to myself to avoid the "10 items or less" lane no matter how long the other lines are. Little do I know that next time (as usual) I'll forget.

On the way to the car I'll walk by a gorgeous blond. At first she'll shoot me a knowing smile, one probably reserved for an old friend, but then it will hit her (it always does). I know by now that even the coolest California natives who can casually walk by an A-list celebrity without even a second glance, will stop and glare when they see me coming. Like most of the others, this particular blond won't even remember my name, but strangely enough will find it fitting for her greeting to be, "God, you're such a FREAKIN' pig!"

As always, I'll smile and nod. After all, she does have a point.

Does it hurt? Naturally. But being an ex-"bachelor" isn't all bad. When I'm at the local bar I am considered to be a man among men. Guys will push past a hot girl just to buy me a drink. I've figured out in the past two years that a drink is roughly worth one kissing story and I'm a fast drinker. Regardless of their state of intoxication, the next question is almost always the same: "yeah, but did you..."

I always cut them short before saying, matter-of-factly, "you'd better believe I did." Then I'll lower my voice and lean in and wink. "I made out with very single one of 'em."

It has been quite the honeymoon since Marilyn and I broke up, roughly one hour after being reunited on national television. It never hits you when you're kissing every single one of the girls on the show that there's eventually going to be a winner, who then is unfortunately going to watch all 24 of the episodes during the "separation period." If I knew then what I told myself the bachelor before me should have known, things may have been different.

A few weeks after the "tell all" episode, Marilyn's ex-boyfriend, Duke, knocked on my front door at six in the morning. "I know yer in there, player boy!" He shouted. "You can either open the door. Or I'm gonna bust it down!"

I laid there for a moment, not sure if I was dreaming, but then it hit me: Marilyn's dad told me (when we did the "meet the parents" episode) that her ex-boyfriend Duke was, "one crazy son-of-a-gun" who liked to run over cats, back up, and run them over again, when such opportunity arose.

I nervously walked to the front door and looked through the peephole. Yep, it was Duke. It had to be, I mean how many people in southern California have a dip of copenhagen that takes up half the inside of their mouth?
"Can I help you?" I called through the door.
"You sure can pussy boy," Duke fired back. "You can bring yer scrawny, white-ASS out here for a goooood beatin'."

I was never a fighter, not since that one day my grand-pappy pulled me aside after a slight scuffle with a neighborhood boy named Timmy. His voice softened and he smiled, "kiddo, remember this always. A man who walks away, is a man who'll walk away another day." It took a few seconds for my young mind to register his wisdom, but when it finally did it made perfect sense. I shook my head and said, "yes grand-pappy."

Unfortunately Duke's relentless pounding on my front door brought me back to a lesser moment.

"Duke, is that you?" I asked.

"Maybe." He replied. I wasn't sure but his tone indicated he was down for a little guessing game. I personally wasn't in the mood, especially since I had to pee really bad.

"Duke, listen to me... none of it was real." I cleared my throat. "Kind of like when you go to the movies."

I glanced through the peephole as Duke weighed the weight of my words and judging from his shifty eye movement, my lie wasn't taking. I ducked as his eye moved in for the peephole.

"Huh?"

I took a deep breath. "Listen, all we were doing was acting for the cameras. In fact, when I kissed Marilyn, that wasn't even real." I looked through the door and from his expression I could tell Duke wanted to believe. "Take our final night together for example. Remember when they gave us the option of taking a suite at that five star hotel?"

"I shore do!" Duke's voice sounded cross. I knew I had to quickly do some damage control. Time was of the essence.

"Well, the producers, they told us to take it, and that afterward we could go to our own rooms, and that's exactly what we did!" I'd only recently started taking acting classes, and felt pretty comfortable that my tone of voice succeeded in sounding factual. I even threw in a bit of a Texas' drawl.

There was a pause on the other side. "But, they showed yer images. Kissin' through the window. Then them lights went out. I saw it. Don't tell me I didn't see it." Duke proved my theory that people from Arkansas can only speak long sentences by breaking them down in to small parts.

"Duke!" I protested. "Those were actors! When they shot those scenes I wasn't even in the same state. I swear!" It's funny how easy lying comes when your life's at stake.

"Oh, okay." Duke replied.

Afterward, Duke and I shared a nice breakfast by the beach. He'd never seen the Hollywood sign, so before dropping him off at the airport I did the duty nearly all southern Californians have been subjected to.

Strangely enough, I was sadder to see him go than our beloved ex, Marilyn.

People will also ask me what my favorite part of being on the Bachelor was. This answer always comes easy.

"Why, the rose ceremony of course!"

They'll usually reply, "Really?!"

"Of course," I'll state proudly. "The cameras don't show it, but those girls are sweating like pigs in heat." I'll pause. "It could be the coolest thing ever!"

They always seem to look at me like I'm crazy, but I'm really not. Deep down inside I'm just a hopeless romantic who's waiting for 'miss right' to come along.

Until then, I guess I'll just have to learn to live with being a bachelor.