I Didn't Come Here to Make Friends: Confessions of a Reality Show Villain

by Courtney Robertson

  I knew Ben liked me. We kept locking eyes, and I was already starting to fall for him. I know it may seem cuckoo that I could have real feelings for a complete stranger within eight hours of meeting him, but I did! Seeing Ben at the Rose Ceremony just fueled my fire. We got a late start because a drunk and distraught Jenna locked herself in the bathroom and refused to come out. By the time a producer coaxed her out we all looked like hookers at the end of a shift—a mess of drooping makeup, limp hair, and wrinkled dresses. Regardless, we were lined up for the group shot that would appear in every celeb rag and website in America. Then we were prepared for Ben’s first firing line.

  Though I was 99.9 percent certain I’d get a rose, there was a nagging possibility that I could be rejected, humiliated on national television, and sent packing. As Ben started calling names, I noticed that he paused dramatically in between each one and had a routine of sorts. He made a concerned face, looked up, then left, then right. I wondered if he did it on purpose so when the show aired they’d have time to stick in shots of the yet unchosen swallowing nervously, shooting daggers at each other, or holding back tears.

  Luckily, Ben didn’t torture me too much and called my name in the middle of the pack. When he asked if I’d accept his rose, I purposefully answered, “I do.” It was clear Ben couldn’t remember all of the other women’s names, but I know he remembered mine because he kept staring at me between rose handouts and smiling. Suddenly twenty-four sets of eyes burned through me and a target was staple gunned onto my back.

  I didn’t care, because I already knew Ben was my guy.

  4

  WHINE & ROSES

  The first Rose Ceremony lasted well into the night and seven unlucky girls got the heave-ho. The sun was coming up and roosters were literally crowing outside. Exhausted and hungover, my seventeen new best friends and I went back to the hotel to recoup. We were allowed to sleep until the middle of the afternoon, but then we had to put on our stinky, rumpled clothes from the night before to do recaps. I was so tired I didn’t even put any makeup on. And that’s when we got the bad news: a producer informed us that the makeup artist was only provided to us for the first night. From now on, we were on our own. I was okay with this announcement, because I’d learned how to put on makeup for high-definition TV cameras back when I’d modeled in commercials. But this was a potential nightmare for everyone else, especially Blakeley, who had a tendency to cake it on; Lindzi, who had permanent eyeliner tattoos; and for the girls who slept in their makeup.

  I thought about the first night: it was totally surreal. And Ben made some surreal choices. He kept Jenna, even though she basically had a mental breakdown in the bathroom. He kept mean Monica, who admitted to a few of the girls she thought Ben was ugly. And he kept Emily, who talked incessantly about heart disease. I wasn’t sure how I felt about his taste in women, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He was under a lot of pressure, too.

  The next day, we drove out to Malibu, thinking we were moving into the mansion. As we mingled in the kitchen, Chris Harrison appeared from nowhere. The women turned on like a light switch and pounced on him. He introduced himself individually to each of us and I tried to be as normal as possible. The others, especially Kacie B, were busy kissing his ass, maybe hoping he’d put in a good word with Ben or, more likely, hoping he was imagining them as the next Bachelorette in case this didn’t work out.

  Chris walked us out to the lawn to film a segment. He announced that this season would be different from seasons past: we’d be leaving the mansion immediately and traveling with Ben all over the world. For our first destination shoot we were heading up to Sonoma, where Ben ran his winery. Contrary to popular belief, Ben didn’t own a winery. He grows his own grapes on an already existing winery, like renting office space. But many of the women, including myself, were under the assumption that Ben was the second coming of Kendall-Jackson.

  After the expected squealing and jumping, we flew up to San Francisco and piled into vintage white convertible Rolls-Royces, dividing ourselves into already forming cliques. I gravitated toward raspy-voiced partier Jaclyn Swartz, my hair-curling buddy Casey Shteamer, and beautiful blonde Rachel Truehart. Kacie B, Nicki, Monica, pageant queen Samantha, and Emily were forming their own Pink Ladies’ gang. Blakeley, who at thirty-four was a senior citizen in Bachelor years, and Lindzi, who rarely spoke to anyone, were lone wolves. The rest, frankly, were floaters, not really a blip on the radar. I kind of missed Anna Snowball. At least I remembered her name.

  * * *

  KEEPING IT REAL

  How to Get Noticed by the Tabloids

  The key to becoming a Bachelor star and getting a lot of ink right off the bat is having a back story. Give them something to write about! Even if it’s bad!

  Release a mug shot.

  But only if your hair looks good in it.

  Overcome adversity or tragedy.

  AshLee Frazier was an orphan. Sarah Herron only had one arm. Car accidents, diabetes, and dumped at the altar all work, too.

  Have a weird job.

  Shawntel Newton didn’t even come close to getting the guy after two tries but because she ran a funeral home, she nabbed magazine spreads and even got a book deal.

  Be sexually ambiguous.

  Many former contestants have been dogged by gay rumors. Keep everyone guessing; it adds to the fun.

  Flaunt your virginity.

  Sluts are a dime a dozen. The girls and guys who get the most buzz are the born-agains like Sean Lowe or the never-haves like Ryan Hoag or Corrie Adamson.

  Have fangs.

  I think that speaks for itself.

  * * *

  We arrived at a gorgeous rented house overlooking a vineyard and Ben greeted us at the door. Immediately the women took off to find their bedrooms. A gift bag was waiting for each girl—actually a Guess rolling suitcase. It was filled with swag, including bikinis, skinny jean leggings, CC Skye bracelets, and skin care and tanning products. Lindzi was a big fan of the bronzer and her hands were often stained bright orange. Go ahead and YouTube it.

  Unlike the others, I didn’t run around the house like a chicken with my head cut off. I strolled into the kitchen by myself to check out the fridge. I was thrilled: it was packed with real, healthy food. I felt like I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days and I was starving. Even more thrilling, Ben walked into the kitchen and we were by ourselves for the first time. He told me that the first thing he did on Ashley’s season was check out the fridge, too. He grabbed a bottle of wine and, as we chatted and flirted, word spread like wildfire that he was alone with me. By the time he popped the cork, everyone—the other women, producers, cameras—swarmed us like bees.

  The first date card was announced on the lawn at dusk. As we gathered around Ben, the sun setting behind us, he kept eyeballing me, not so inconspicuously. “Oh my God,” my new pal Casey whispered. “He likes you!” I tried to brush it off, but later Casey told me that it was at that exact moment she and some of the other girls checked out. I was unpleasantly surprised when Ben told Kacie B she got the first one-on-one. I already found her grating. I sort of didn’t care though, because I was tired from traveling and Kacie B would only be getting a short evening date. I held out hope that I’d get the longer all-day, one-on-one date in Sonoma.

  When Kacie B was getting ready for her date in the hall bathroom, I walked by and told her that she looked beautiful and to have fun. After she left with Ben, the rest of the girls made the first of our many family dinners and ate together out on the patio. When we weren’t in hotels, we were left on our own to cook meals. Monica, who had already designated herself the group’s resident astrologer, also offered to be chef. She made a giant salad, throwing in tons of meat and cheese without asking anyone if they were vegan or vegetarian. At this point, I wasn’t eating dairy, or chicken, so I had to make my own dinner. Even though it was a small thing, this seemed to alienate me from the group. They thought my diet was “weird” even though Kacie B was glu
ten free and back then nobody knew what the heck that was yet. I thought they’d all be judgmental about my smoking, so I decided to keep that a secret for as long as possible.

  After dinner, the producers gathered us all in the living room so we could film the group date card scene. There was a knock on the door; the card was read aloud. Names were rattled off. I wasn’t one of them—meaning it was fairly certain I’d get the last private date with Ben on this leg of the trip. I was so excited, but so exhausted. I desperately wanted to go to bed, but instead we answered a bunch of questions like, “What do you think the date will be tomorrow?” Or “What do you think Ben and Kacie B are doing right now?” Nobody was saying anything interesting. I piped up with a few sassy comments just to get myself out of there.

  After the crew packed up and left us alone in the house, I had an intense urge to run away. Nobody was there to stop me. All I needed was my wallet and I could run like a gazelle through the vineyard into town, find a pay phone to call a cab, and escape to the airport.

  Instead, I just went to bed. Or tried to. I quickly realized there was no such thing as a good night’s sleep on this journey. The big partiers (Blakeley, Jaclyn, Monica, Elyse, and more) stayed up late drinking bottles of local wine, playing cards, and cackling—most likely about Monica’s inaccurate, totally amateur astrology readings.

  I was assigned a double bed with Nicki, a complete stranger. “I guess it’s you and me, Texas!” I joked to her. Registered nurse Jamie Otis got shoved into the corner of our room on an air mattress, which made a fart noise every time she moved. I got about three hours of sleep.

  At the ass-crack of dawn a producer gently woke me up and I dragged myself out of bed. Throughout the entire process, I never knew what day or time it was because I forgot to bring a watch. Huge mistake. I was totally disoriented. It took me a minute to figure out where I was and what the heck I was doing there. Then the house exploded in chaos. It was the first time we all had to get ready at the same time, in the same place.

  I shuffled into the kitchen to get coffee. Some women were making breakfast. Elyse’s specialty—bagels with peanut butter and bananas—was quite popular. Others were making themselves mimosas. A couple sat on the counter gossiping about Kacie B’s date last night. I wanted to avoid overhearing anything that would bum me out, so I left to get ready for my day’s activities. While the other women went on their first group date I had plans that included lying out by the pool, napping, and sneaking in some exercise by walking up and down the driveway. The driveway was as far as we were allowed to stray from the house.

  At this point in the trip, there were still a lot of girls, but I could go days without seeing someone. For example, I rarely crossed paths with Jennifer Fritsch, an accountant from Oklahoma, because she was on the group date and slept in a room far away from me upstairs. When I was hanging out, she might have been doing an interview and vice versa. Roommates tended to be stuck together and have a similar schedule. Which could be good or bad. Whoever roomed with Blakeley would have been frustrated because she spent an eternity in front of the mirror primping. Whoever roomed with Lindzi may have gotten old-fashioned advice like “Ladies don’t chew gum.” I got to know Nicki pretty well in Sonoma since we were sleeping together and I found her to be a worrywart and insecure. She was always so nervous she’d be sent home.

  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 iro
ned 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.