I Didn't Come Here to Make Friends (16 page)

I hated doing interviews, but while all of this insanity was going down, I was happy to be pulled away. I was escorted down to a barn in the vineyard, which the crew had converted into a mini studio. While the camera and sound guys set up for my ITM (or TMIs, as the girls had now dubbed them), I sipped a glass of red wine as a producer put on Adele’s song “Someone Like You.” I felt so comfortable and I just wanted to make the crew happy. I wanted to make them laugh. I wanted them to like me.

KEEPING IT REAL

Cheers to the Clichés!

Watching
The Bachelor
or
The Bachelorette
at home and want your own cocktail party booze-fest? Drink anytime someone says:

1.
I didn’t come here to make friends.

2.
We have a strong connection.

3.
I feel like my wall is up.

4.
[Insert name] threw me under the bus.

5.
The words “journey” or “process.”

6.
[Insert name] isn’t here for the right reasons.

7.
I came here to find love.

8.
I could be going home tonight.

9.
I’m falling in love with more than one woman.

10.
This is the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life.

11.
I can be myself around him/her.

12.
I have to trust my heart.

13.
At the end of the day …

14.
I just don’t see him with her.

15.
You haven’t seen the last of me.

I would end up making their jobs a little too easy. I didn’t say anything too outrageous that night, just that it was “a war out there.” But soon I would get a little too comfortable with the crew and insert my foot in my mouth a lot. Very soon.

When I went back to the house for the Rose Ceremony, Blakeley was still being bullied by the Pink Ladies. As Ben handed out roses I couldn’t help but be a little cocky. I knew he liked me.

This wasn’t going to be that hard.

I’d just sit back and watch all of these self-sabotaging cuckoo birds implode.

5

BUFFETS & BREAKDOWNS

W
e weren’t even that far into the journey, and yet everyone, now sixteen of us, were already going a little stir-crazy, especially me. Emily talking incessantly about her mind-numbing job in epidemiology was like nails on a chalkboard. Rachel and Nicki were terrified they were going home every moment of every day. Kacie B took it upon herself to be “Julie McCoy, cruise director” of the group. She’d lead sing-alongs on bus and car rides and pose irritating ethical questions, like the ones you’d find in a Scruples board game, to jumpstart conversations. Shut up already!

By the time we got to our next destination, San Francisco, a lot of the girls were emotional and on edge. The first night we were given our own rooms at the historic Fairmont Hotel, but didn’t leave them. We got to order in anything our little hearts desired from room service, but there was no television. I felt like I was being groomed. With absolutely nothing else to do, I journaled for two hours. Even though the girls were annoying, I was relieved when we took over the entire penthouse and the presidential suite as a group. It was better than being in solitary confinement. And we got to pick our own roommates. I chose my new friends, Casey and Rachel, the hot blonde, unaware that she snored like a freight train.

Most of us, in our normal lives, worked out a lot. I consider it part of my job back in L.A. Going without regular exercise was starting to make us testy (though Kacie B was always chipper, probably because she’d somehow hid weights and a jump rope under her bed). We tried to schedule what we called Yard Time wherever and whenever we could. We’d even resorted to doing laps of the driveway back in Sonoma. Thankfully, there was a real gym at the Fairmont. Once, I saw Jaclyn headed to the gym carrying a workout water bottle filled with vodka. “I’m only gonna burn like ten calories,” she slurred. “But I can’t wait to watch TV!”

The hotel was beautiful, but I had cabin fever. San Francisco was intense for me, especially knowing that I wouldn’t have a one-on-one date with Ben because I’d just had one. Plus, my secret smoker cover was totally blown when one of the producers came into the suite and announced, “You can go down to smoke now.” Jaclyn and Blakeley overheard this and decided they wanted to smoke, too, which bummed me out because I cherished the private time.

At the Fairmont, Nicki and I bonded while working out together. When we walked into the gym I felt like I was walking on air. I watched the news for the first time in weeks while I ecstatically exercised on the elliptical. The physical release was so intense I may have even cried post-coital-like tears.

As I was working out, I checked out a cute guy who walked in wearing a baseball hat pulled low and black socks with his workout clothes, a look I think is so hot.
Oh shit
,
it was Ben!
He spotted Nicki and me, walked over, and made small talk. I felt relieved and proud that I was watching the news and not
Maury
. Maybe because he thought I was worldly, he talked to me more than Nicki—something that she definitely noticed and definitely didn’t appreciate. He jumped on a machine right behind me and as he worked out, I could see him watching me in the mirror. I was happy I was wearing my Lululemon workout pants, which make every woman’s butt look amazing.

The producers knew we needed a special treat to stay happy so they made sure the food was really yummy in San Francisco. We had a catered spread 24/7 at the Fairmont and a lot of the girls took advantage of the endless amounts of food wheeled in. The three down days before the Rose Ceremony were so long and tedious if you didn’t get a date that a lot of times we had nothing better to do than stuff our faces. I devoured pastries and eggs for breakfast, giant salads with salmon for lunch, and plates of pasta for dinner. I even saw skinny Rachel eat a whole box of Cheez-Its in one sitting. A couple of the women, who shall remain nameless (Nicki), gained ten to fifteen pounds during taping.

While we all sat around eating and drinking our feelings, Ben gave Emily the worst one-on-one date ever: a terrifying climb to the top of the Bay Bridge. She matched her pink construction helmet with a full-blown panic attack. After burning however many thousands of calories walking up the darn thing, poor Emily probably wouldn’t eat on their dinner date. Even though she admitted to Ben the lame fact that an online dating site matched her up with her older brother, she still got a rose and was safe for the week.

From our hotel window, we saw fireworks going off and we knew they were for Ben and Emily. It was like the cannons going off in
The Hunger Games,
except I knew Emily was making out, not being harpooned with a bow and arrow. This whole experience felt eerily similar to
The Hunger Games
so far: we were fighting to the death for Ben.

Picturing Ben kissing Emily made me want to throw up in my mouth a little. It really bothered me. It bothered everyone. Earlier in the day room service staff had wheeled in a fancy silver tray stocked with top-shelf vodka and every Bloody Mary accoutrement known to mankind, so many of the girls were sloshed and belligerent. I don’t usually partake in day-drinking—I don’t like to drink hard alcohol because I’m such a lightweight—so I didn’t really get to bond with the other girls who were day-drinkers.

KEEPING IT REAL

Embrace Your Inner Villain

by Kalon McMahon

Can you name the guys from Emily Maynard’s season? Can’t remember that many?

You remember the guy who wins.

You remember the guy who you
wanted
to win.

You maybe remember the guy who cried after two weeks of knowing Emily.

And you remember me—the guy you hated from day one.

If you can tell a good story, people will listen, regardless of which character you play in it. Just don’t be boring. Otherwise you just end up a
Bachelor
statistic, and statistics don’t get to write books.

“Celebrity,” no matter how brief, is not a commodity. It’s a vehicle. And if driven correctly, this vehicle will take you wherever you want to go. It opens doors. When you are newsworthy, it becomes much easier to shed light on the things that are important to you. Two years ago I participated in a charity date auction to benefit CAPS (Citizens for Animal Protection). The date consisted of a helicopter ride to my family’s ranch for an afternoon of drinking champagne, riding horses, and shooting guns. I sold it for a measly $600. Flash forward to after I was on
The Bachelorette,
virtually the same date sold for $10,000. So the moral of the story is that if I have to be a dick on TV in order to be a better person in real life, sign me up every time.