ABC’s latest Bachelor is a bona fide British hunk and I’m swooning. Let it be known that this is something I rarely do. Let it also be known that I’ve got a little personal history here. Yes, reader ... I was a bachelorette ... season eight. And I’m still peeved with the producers for sticking me with the goody two shoes Doctor.
Given my crazy dating history, I was a shoo-in for casting. Was I a match for Tennessee’s Travis Stork? Not so much.
Rewind to 2005. Network producers have sequestered me and twenty-four other Bachelorettes inside separate rooms at the Sofitel Paris with only a disconnected telephone, a bathroom and French television to keep us entertained. I spend most of my time devouring croissants in the bathtub while devising my strategy. Four nights later, we’re dressed to thrill (me in my new glass slippers) and riding in limos en route to a cocktail party at the Bachelor pad, a fourteenth-century château.
At the entrance stands our supposed soul mate, a doctor from Nashville, who at first glance is a living mannequin. A split-second assessment of his uptight demeanor and the surrounding obstacle course—mossy stairs and cobblestones—tells me the odds of falling on my behind are greater than the chances of falling in love with this stranger. In any case, I’m nervous. I get out of the limo and, doing my best goddess-walk, make my way toward the thirtysometing star. Maintaining my balance is a real feat in the slippers, but I manage.
Making friends with the other women is the fun part. They’re hilarious and most of us share a distaste for our Bachelor’s last name (not to mention the shaggy pre-makeover pic we discover of him on the Internet upon returning to the US). Upon saying a few snarky remarks, I’m summoned to give an on-camera confession outside. That’s when my prized glass slipper (okay, so it was really a gold, strappy Stuart Weitzman) slips hard—down the stairs. The entire weight of my croissant-loving being lands on my ankle. My shoes look even sadder than I do, all splotched with mud and scraped up at the heel.
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