I Didn't Come Here to Make Friends (15 page)

In all fairness to Nicki, everybody may have been extra uptight because, TMI alert, nobody was pooping. Whether it was the traveling, the lack of privacy, or girls fearing that Ben might find out they actually go number two, stomach issues were messing up our mojo.

Even worse than the constipation epidemic was Kacie B buzzing around, glowing about her date the night before. She and Ben had twirled a baton and watched home movies together. It sounded like a total snooze-fest, but she boasted that it was the best, most romantic date she’d ever been on. And on and on. Okay, we got it. Someone asked Kacie B if she kissed Ben and she said coyly, “I’m not going to say!”

Amping up an already anxiety-filled morning was the unknown: Who would Ben pick to take on the second one-on-one date? And who would get absolutely nothing?

When ten of the girls left for their group date, which involved putting on a play for a bunch of kids, I was relieved to have a little peace. The worst of the Pink Ladies—Emily, Monica, Samantha—were out of my hair and I got a temporary reprieve from being the biggest target in the house. During the night pool/hot tub portion of the group date, the bikini-clad mob turned on Blakeley after she and Ben made out in the pool. They went extra nutty after Blakeley nabbed the one rose that was up for grabs and guaranteed her safety for the week. “She’s so blatantly fake and overtly sexual!” Samantha the pageant queen cried about the VIP cocktail waitress. “I hate her!”

While all this drama was going on, I was back at the ranch with the rest of the girls, including the insufferable Kacie B, who was still gloating about her date with Ben. Late that night, the doorbell rang and she answered the door to retrieve and recite the one-on-one date card for the next day. “Courtney,” she read, her lip curling in disgust. “Let’s spin the bottle.”

I decided to rub it in, just like she’d been doing all day.

“How’d that taste coming out of your mouth?” I joked, quoting my favorite movie
The Blind Side
.

There was a stunned silence in the room.
The Blind Side
? Anyone? Bueller?

“How’d that taste coming out of your mouth?” I repeated.

“Like vinegar,” Kacie B shot back, shooting me pointy daggers from her furious eyes.

Oh, this time she had a comeback! She gets the joke!

Not so much. Sandra Bullock got an Oscar for that line but I got the wrath of twenty humorless women. I apologized to Kacie B, but the damage was done. The next day, while I was on my date with Ben, Kacie B ran around the house retelling the story to anyone who would listen, adding in what a bad person I was. On a scale of wonderful to horrible, I was back to being worse than Blakeley, quite an accomplishment considering she’d been called a “slut” and “horseface” by several of the girls during the group date. (I, myself, had not yet called Blakeley “Horsey.” That came later and never aired.)

Ben, of course, was oblivious to my scarlet letter in the house and I wanted to keep it that way. So when we drove off to have our private date, a picnic down by the Russian River in Sonoma, I made sure sparks flew as soon as possible. I wore little white shorts with sexy brown cowboy boots, even though I’m self-conscious about my legs and it was actually kind of cold out. I put his adorable Jack Russell terrier, Scotch, in my lap—dog people love it when you show affection for their best friends—and suavely put my hand on his thigh. We drove together for about twenty minutes so the producers could get some overhead helicopter panoramas and a few shots of us chatting in the vintage convertible truck (always convertibles on this show!).

Ben and I held hands and talked naturally without any cameras in our faces. We discovered that we had a few things in common: our favorite snack was power bars, which we both pulled out at the same time, and our favorite band was Mariachi El Bronx. He had his iPod with him (apparently, the Bachelor is
not
cut off from the world) and he played our favorite song, “Sleepwalking”:

Electrify the night

Follow the moon

Islands don’t dream

Of cities like you

I had goose bumps listening to it with Ben. I wanted to kiss him so badly. We didn’t. Instead, we had a conversation about kissing. We decided we wouldn’t make out a lot on-camera because we didn’t want to gross the viewers, and our mothers, out.

KEEPING IT REAL

Ten Fun Facts About Flajnik’s Follicles

The biggest controversy on season 16 of
The Bachelor
wasn’t my big mouth. It was Ben’s hair! You either love it or hate it. There’s really no gray hair-ea. Test your knowledge about Ben’s lovely locks with this extremely challenging quiz.

TRUE OR FALSE?

1.
Ben flat ironed his hair on
The Bachelor.

2.
Ben hides a receding hairline with his long locks.

3.
Ben colors his hair.

4.
Ben owns a hairdryer.

5.
Ben uses Moroccan oil for ultimate sheen.

6.
Ben has worn his hair in a ponytail.

7.
A Twitter account called BachelorBenHair was created during the show.

8.
Ben has split ends.

9.
Humidity wreaks havoc on Ben’s hair.

10.
Ben owns scrunchies in several colors.

Answer key: 1. T; 2. T; 3. F; 4. T; 5. F; 6. T; 7. T; 8. F; 9. T; 10. F

When we arrived at the redwood forest Ben’s dog, Scotch, took off running. Ben was totally panicked and I felt so bad for him. Luckily Scotch was found, so we could relax and have a good time. Or try to relax. It was still hard for me to let my guard down with fifteen random people standing around staring as we tried to talk intimately. I spoke quietly, my voice going up a few octaves, hoping everyone wouldn’t hear what I was saying to Ben. Which was silly because we were miked up almost all the time.

We had a picnic by the water and shared our first kisses on-camera. It was very natural and it just kind of happened. It was a textbook first kiss, soft and sweet. There was room for improvement, but it felt really comfortable.

For part two of the date, I switched into a gray sweater, scarf, and the free leggings I’d gotten in my swag bag. We climbed up on a tractor and drove into Ben’s favorite local vineyard for a romantic dinner. I use the word “dinner” lightly. No one really eats the delicious gourmet food they place right under your nose because nobody wants to be seen talking with their mouths full.

We made out a little more at dinner, but our kisses were so quick that producers jokingly shouted at us to keep them going longer. When we refused, they gave us our first nickname as a couple—the Pecking Pirates.

It was definitely the best date I’d ever been on in my life and I wanted to savor every moment of it. But a couple of things Ben said during dinner raised red flags. Like, he asked me how I was getting along with the other girls. How did he know drama was going on already? The other thing that concerned me was when Ben reminisced about his glory days of staying up and partying all night. He claimed he was ready for the next phase of his life, settling down and marriage, but I wasn’t so sure. I worried Ben might be immature. And that the other girls were already talking about me.

Of course, I pushed those red flags out of my mind because Ben gave me a pink Core Balance band bracelet. He always wore a white one so when he pulled a pink one out of his backpack for me, it was a sure sign in my mind that I was his favorite.

At the end of the night, which was freezing, he gave me his coat to wear and we sat in a swing talking, kissing, and cuddling. “This is the best first date I’ve ever been on,” I said. “Me, too,” he replied.

They separated us for our final interviews, and then we left in separate cars.

The next morning, I woke up happy, thinking about Ben.
This could work
, I thought. It could be him and me at the end: Ben Flajnik could be my husband. After Nicki rolled her rump out of our shared bed, I secretly wrote Ben one of my signature love notes in my journal, ripped the page out, and folded it. Tonight was the cocktail party and Rose Ceremony and even though Ben had given me a rose on our date and I was safe for the week, I wanted him to know how I felt.

The other women, who were very envious of my new bracelet, had an entire day to get ready for the party. It was too much idle time. Some, like Jaclyn, Elyse, and Jenna, had stayed up late drinking bottles and bottles of wine while I was on my date. To cure their hangovers, they hair of the dogged it and started drinking mimosas early. Others, ahem Blakeley, used the entire time to get ready. I’m not kidding. She hogged one of the bathrooms for three hours. Her intense beauty rituals and bad manners just gave Kacie B and her former couch lover, Monica, an excuse to talk shit about her nonstop. Not that Blakeley didn’t deserve it. I noticed that she was super bossy and high maintenance with the PAs, ordering them to get her drinks and food. Maybe because she was a VIP cocktail waitress she wanted someone to wait on her for a change. I don’t know. For someone who probably earned a living on tips, Blakeley was also surprisingly lazy. Once, as I walked by her room, she called my name out. I poked my head in the door and found her sitting on the floor putting (more) makeup on.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked. Maybe we were going to bury the hatchet.

“Can you close my door?” she answered, completely seriously.

“Sure,” I said, and then slammed it as hard as I could. Maybe not.

Nobody really asked me about my date with Ben, which was rude, but also totally fine. I didn’t want to confide in them anyway. So I put on my best poker face. I wanted to play it a little cooler than Kacie B, who was flying around the house sweating rainbows. We get it. You’re in a good mood. Nicki must’ve had a sixth sense that my date went well (maybe we bonded subconsciously in bed?) so she was snappy with me all day. I overheard her whining that I shouldn’t be allowed to have any one-on-one time with Ben at the cocktail party because it wasn’t fair to everyone else.

At least Samantha, the little Chihuahua always running her mouth, had the cojones to insult me to my face. She was constantly harshing on me, about everything from being so tall to my diet. “There’s Courtney the model eating another salad!” she’d sneer as I ate. Samantha wasn’t as tough as she looked though. She could dish it out, but she sure couldn’t take it. Once, when I told her to leave me alone or I’d “dropkick” her, she ran to her room crying. She was so upset she was late to a cocktail party.

By the time we all headed to the cocktail party in Sonoma, half of the girls were hammered and/or on the verge of hysteria. I threw on a white lace dress I’d borrowed from my sister and prepared myself for the inevitable shitshow. Nicki and Rachel were really nervous, and the few women who didn’t get any date with Ben that week were practically catatonic. Nicki even asked the group, “What’s the plan tonight? Who thinks that people who had dates shouldn’t get time tonight? Courtney shouldn’t have any more time with Ben.”

“I don’t think there should be rules,” I said, defending myself. I didn’t want anyone telling me when I could, and couldn’t, talk to Ben.

Later, Nicki apologized for being snappy toward me. I didn’t want the girls to hate me so I stayed away from Ben as long as possible. I also didn’t want him to think I was being aloof, so I asked a producer to pass along my note. I also whistled at Ben like a construction worker whenever he walked by. (I did this throughout the show and it would end up being one of our inside jokes.) Despite trying to respect the girls’ wishes that I keep a low profile, I needed to have a one-on-one chat, so I interrupted Lindzi, whose face was now as orange as a construction cone from all of the free bronzer. I apologized to both of them, but Lindzi didn’t seem to care. She made stinkfaces here and there, but for the most part, to her credit, she’d stayed out of the drama so far.

Ben read my note out loud on-camera. I was mortified, but should have known better. Nothing was private on this show. On the cover I’d written: Rose are red/Violets are blue/I like you a lot/I hope you do, too. As he read the inside I cringed even more:

Dear Ben,

Thanks for the nice date last night. I woke up feeling happy and wanted to write you a love note. I could see you being my husband. There I said it. It’s out there …

Lucky for me, the note never made it on the air. There was way too much other juicy f’d up drama swirling around us that night. Even though the party only lasted ninety minutes this time, it was a disaster. We could tell how many girls were being sent home because we counted the roses on the platter. It made everyone nutty. Blakeley followed Ben around like a stalker, as the Pink Ladies continued their verbal assaults on her character (calling her “jugs” and a “bitch”). When Ben gingerly told Blakeley to give him some space, she ended up crouching in the fetal position in a corner of the luggage room sobbing. Brittney, the girl with the granny, was not adapting to the reality show lifestyle at all and angrily pushed a camera out of her face. Jenna Burke flipped out again and passed out drunk in a bed.

Rumor had it that our cast was the drunkest the producers had ever seen. Which is not surprising, considering our beloved Bachelor’s livelihood was based on alcohol. There were times at our cocktail parties when they actually had to close the bar because they didn’t want everyone wasted and throwing up. I heard that the cast of conservative Jake Pavelka’s season spent more money on their food budget than on booze. “I don’t think any of us ever got drunk,” one of the girls on that season told me. “We were like grandmas. We’d sit and talk and have tea.” Same with born-again virgin Sean Lowe’s conservative cast of characters.