But Ben was going to see this through to the bitter end. He was a by-the-book kind of guy. He wasn’t really into breaking the rules.
After Nicki left—eight long weeks and twenty-four rejected girls later—we had finally reached the final two. Lindzi and me. The entire production moved to the picturesque city of Zermatt and we were put up at the Grand Hotel Zermatterhof under the majestic Matterhorn for the thrilling conclusion of this seemingly never-ending story.
Now that Ben had become acquainted with my vagina, naturally it was time for me to get acquainted with his mother. Barbara Flajnik and her daughter, Julia, flew all the way to Switzerland to interrogate Lindzi and me on-camera. Lindzi went first, which was fine with me because I was kind of terrified to meet Ben’s mom. I wasn’t alone. Ben was so nervous he spent the entire morning before I met her on the pot. I’d seen Babs on Ashley Hebert’s season, during the Hometown Dates, and she seemed snobby and uptight—the polar opposite of my mom. My mom can be tough, too, but she’s always the life of the party. To butter up Babs and Julia, I’d bought them gifts—a vintage leather bag for Julia’s Vespa and a wine rack shaped like a bicycle for Babs.
I met both of them together and we had pretty painless, idle chitchat at first. During my private time with Julia, I really liked her. We instantly hit it off, though she made one jab about my vegan diet. I was surprised that, of all things, Ben had told her that about me. I didn’t realize that my eating habits might be such a deal breaker.
Before I talked to Babs one-on-one on-camera, we had to wait for the crew to set up the shot.
“Do I look okay?” she asked me nervously.
“Yeah! You look great,” I said, reassuring her.
Once the camera turned on, though, Babs went for the jugular on her first question.
“Why didn’t you go to college?” she asked condescendingly.
I explained as nicely as possible my stock answer: that I chose modeling and had been supporting myself for the last ten years. I also informed her that I’d gotten my real estate license as a backup plan.
She asked me what I liked about her son, but otherwise our talk was really brief and she seemed very unenthused with me. Then again, I don’t think she was enthused about Ben being on the show again and the trip to Switzerland in general. She asked producers to be moved from her hotel, which she called a “dump.”
When Ben later asked me how it went with his mom, I simply said, “Really well.” I didn’t go into detail and didn’t rave about meeting her because, honestly, I didn’t get a good vibe. I just couldn’t picture her being my mother-in-law.
After Babs and Julia left, Lindzi and I had our final dates with Ben. Lindzi went first again, so I had two days to think, plot, and plan. I wanted to give Ben a special gift to remember our romantic, dramatic journey. My handler and I took the train to Zurich, where I knew a renowned artist named Andy Denzler. Andy had once painted my portrait in L.A. and we were friends. We had a wonderful dinner at a vegan restaurant, but in the end, he declined to paint Ben’s portrait. The show wouldn’t pay for it, I couldn’t afford it, and he didn’t need the publicity. Like so many past contestants I decided to make the standard “love scrapbook” for Ben. I bought a $100 leather journal and had a local farmer brand the cover with “Past, Present, Future.” I pasted copies of cell phone pics the producers had taken along the way and an antique photo of a forest, to remind him of our future child’s name.
When our final date arrived we spent the day portion on a terrifying helicopter ride around the Matterhorn. After picnic #532 on the side of the mountain we went sledding, threw snowballs at each other, and wrote our names in the snow (not with Ben’s pee-pee). We had a blast.
The vibe during the night portion of our date, however, was a major buzzkill. We filmed it really late, in my hotel room, and it was short. As we lay on my bed, I gave Ben the scrapbook and another love letter I’d written him. He didn’t seem that blown away by either. He was acting kind of weird—very quiet and not his normal sweet self—and it made me feel uncomfortable. Did something change over the last few hours? I thought. Did he change his mind about Lindzi? Could he possibly be in love with her? The thought crossed my mind again that Ben was messing with me the whole time and I would be a laughingstock on television.
* * *
KEEPING IT REAL
Five Burning Questions for the Bachelor
Dear future contestants, it’s okay to ask the hard questions. Don’t be shy. It’s only the rest of your life on the line!
1.Have you ever cheated on anyone?
2.What are your spiritual beliefs? (You may want to ask political party, too.)
3.What’s your idea of a perfect weekend?
4.Do you have a problem with your partner making more money than you?
5.Do you have a good relationship with your mom?
* * *
On the flip side, if he was madly in love with me, could he be getting cold feet? I began to wonder if this whole experience was getting too real for him. We were two days away from professing our undying love for each other for eternity and suddenly Ben was very disengaged and detached.
When he walked out the door, I freaked out. I was no longer calm, collected, confident Courtney. I was an absolute wreck. Everyone kept saying that all guys act weird before they propose.
But I realized that we’d never had a very crucial conversation.
I’d never once asked Ben, “Do you want to be engaged?”
10
BACK TO REALITY
Welp, if you don’t know it by now—or just skimmed over the prologue of this book, how rude—Ben and I were betrothed on November 16, 2011, after he called my dad and asked for my hand in marriage.
After giving his permission, my dad told Ben, “Whatever you do, take care of my Bug.” My dad was extremely hesitant; he’d only met the guy one time, for little more than an hour. But what was he supposed to say? “I barely know you. Screw you!” He gave the go-ahead and prayed for the best.
Though I, too, had some reservations and uncertainties about the whole situation, I was thrilled to be Ben’s fiancée. I couldn’t wait to be his wife and plan our future and family together.
We weren’t supposed to tell anyone the big news, and, for a hot minute, Ben wasn’t even going to tell his own mother. Logistically, it was kind of impossible to keep the engagement under wraps, so we ended up telling our immediate family members. And I also told Casey Shteamer. And my best friend from Scottsdale, Sara.
Ben and I only saw each other five times from mid-November until March 12, when the Bachelor season finale aired. All five of our Happy Couples ended up in California, where we both lived.
In between the Happy Couples, we could call each other freely, but to avoid hackers we had to set up new e-mail accounts and aliases the day after we left Switzerland. We came up with tootsmcgooterson for Ben and mrstootsmcgooterson for me. The names are really sexy—stemming from his immediate ease passing gas in front of me and my love of bathroom humor.
Our correspondence may not have been as passionate and filled with yearning as The English Patient or something, but we were very lovey-dovey in the beginning:
From: mrstootsmcgooterson
To: tootsmcgooterson
I just woke up with the biggest smile on my face. You’re always the first thing on my mind. I love it! I’m so happy. That’s all ;). Hope you and the prince [Scotch] slept wonderful.
Mrs. T
From: tootsmcgooterson
To: mrstootsmcgooterson
All I think about is how wonderful our life is going to be together. I love you more than life itself.
Mr. T
From: mrstootsmcgooterson
To: tootsmcgooterson
Aww babe, you just melted me and made my day ;). That’s all I think of too. I love you with all my heart!
Mrs. T
Our e-mails and texts to each other were romantic, overflowing with “love you’s” and pet names like Mo
nkey Head, Muffin, and Baby Cakes. Early on, Ben often texted me saying that I was the best thing that ever happened to him. “I’m like a 6th grader in love for the first time,” he’d gush. But I wouldn’t ever call our messages to each other hot. We never once engaged in a steamy sexting session or dirty talk, though I did receive an “oh me o my” from Ben once when I texted him that I was naked. But it didn’t go any further. Whenever I sent him an X-rated picture, his signature response back was usually “Beep Beep” or “#beepboner.” In fact, “Beep Beep” was his response to anything sexy.
In the beginning, Ben made the mistake of frequently commenting on the size of other women’s breasts in front of me. “Wow, her boobs are so big!” he’d marvel. When I turned the tables, and started joking about the size of random guys’ packages, he finally looked at me and said, “Okay, I got it.”
Since I wasn’t getting any action electronically, thankfully we didn’t have to go very long without seeing each other after filming wrapped. Thanksgiving weekend was Ben’s ten-year high school reunion in Tucson, so we made a secret plan to meet up without anyone knowing. I was excited that Ben was willing to break a rule.
I picked Ben up at his friend’s house, and we drove back to my sister Rachel’s house in Scottsdale. The entire time Ben lay down in the backseat and when we arrived, we pulled into the garage and closed it before he got out of the car. Rachel and her boyfriend, Moe, made themselves scarce so we could be alone for the first time in the United States of America. The first night we played house together. It finally felt like we were a normal couple. We were so comfortable together.
Rachel really liked Ben during our Hometown Date. She thought he was friendly and sincere, but she changed her tune over the course of our first weekend together. Ben wasn’t very warm and didn’t seem interested in getting to know her at all, even though we were staying in her home. He was distracted, constantly on his phone or laptop, and would rarely pipe up, unless it was to announce the new, increasing number of Twitter followers he had. She thought he was a little self-important, especially when I offered to take Scotch for a walk. He was concerned that his dog would be recognized on my cul-de-sac in the middle-of-nowhere suburbia. The show hadn’t even aired yet.
I could tell that Moe, a firefighter, wasn’t impressed with Ben either. He thought that Ben was standoffish, spoiled, and a frat boy. It didn’t help that Ben had his own hipster language. When Moe explained to Ben that he drove the fire engine, Ben declared, “That’s BA,” without translating that BA meant “badass.” Other examples include using the word “dart” in place of cigarette and “pull the trigger” instead of throwing up. For example, if used in a sentence, it would sound like this: “My love e-mails to Tootsmcgooterson may make you want to pull the trigger.”
Ben made a better impression on my dad during Thanksgiving. We went over to my childhood home for the day and they bonded while watching football. But when Sara, my best friend from childhood, came over, he made no effort to get to know her. Granted, the day was already sort of a disaster. My mom was so nervous about hosting Ben that she forgot to turn on the oven after putting the turkey in. By the time we ate the worst Thanksgiving meal ever, it was 8:00 P.M. Ben, who is a self-proclaimed foodie and wannabe chef, admitted, “I almost took a peek, but I didn’t want to let the heat out. Fa ra ra ra ra!” he sang, imitating the movie A Christmas Story. We all laughed about it, but I could tell he was mortified that our stuffing came from a box and our gravy from a package. In his family, they made everything from scratch.
It was my first inkling that my friend had been right: Ben was a little snobby. I’d find out soon enough that he and his mom had an aversion to bargain or mass-market shopping. “We don’t shop at chains,” Babs sniffed (I decided not to tell her that most of my wardrobe comes from Target), while Ben stated as fact on numerous occasions that “there are no chains” in his hometown of San Francisco (a quick Google search shows at least three Victoria’s Secrets in the metropolitan area alone).
Ben may have been disappointed in the Robertson clan’s culinary cornucopia, but my family and my friend Sara were pretty disappointed in him, too. Sara texted that she could tell we were in love, but she was hurt that he didn’t make an effort with her. When the weekend ended, Rachel drove me to the airport to go back home to L.A. and didn’t mince words.
“Court, I don’t know …” she started.
My heart sank. My sister’s opinion meant the most to me. It really hurt my feelings that she wasn’t blown away by Ben.
“I just don’t see it,” she added sadly.
I made excuses for him—he was tired and nervous—and I tried to put the conversation out of my mind. It might take some time, but they’d all eventually see what I loved so much about him.
The next time I saw Ben again, during an officially sanctioned Happy Couple Weekend right before Christmas, he was swamped and stressed. Not only was he running his winery, but he was also now doing tons of press for The Bachelor, which was scheduled to premiere on January 2.
The cast had just been announced so now I had to be extra careful when I met up with him. I took the train from L.A.’s Union Station up to Montecito, California, near Santa Barbara, and a producer picked me up and drove me to meet Ben. Our rented house, located behind a big gate and covered in ivy and Mexican saltillo tile, was just down the road from Oprah’s gargantuan estate. Of course, it had a hot tub. Why would you even ask?
We were told that we couldn’t leave the property at all, so I was hoping for a romantic shut-in weekend filled with sex and snuggling. The first night we cooked a big meal together, but I quickly realized Ben’s almost as bossy as Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen and likes his knife cuts as precise as Morimoto. He made a San Fran classic, cioppino, a spicy fish stew filled with clams, scallops, crab, and shrimp, but I wasn’t allowed to help him. I was relegated to salad duty.
While we were cooking, his mom called and I talked to her for the first time since Switzerland. She was really nice and chatty. I’d gotten holiday gifts for Julia and her and she sent me a thank-you card right after Christmas. “I love the scarf you bought for me,” she wrote. “Beige is my color. Joe used to call me, ‘Queen of Beige.’ Isn’t that funny? Also, I have one of Ben’s new ‘Epilogue’ bottles of wine in the bicycle you gave me in Switzerland. You are very thoughtful and have an eye for the perfect gifts.”
I’d also bought Ben several Christmas gifts—his favorite snack, See’s Candies, a charcoal beanie and cashmere socks from Marc Jacobs, and a pickling kit. I also commissioned an artist to draw a picture of his dog, Scotch. He got me the best gift I’ve ever gotten from any boyfriend—a sparkling diamond band to wear on my right hand until the show could give my engagement ring back to me. I wore it on my left hand, just for me, when I was inside.
While Ben and I ate dinner, listening to our favorite songs by Drake and Bon Iver, there was that comfortable silence between us but something was definitely missing. I felt like we could have connected more and been more intimate. Not that we didn’t have a great time. We definitely made love in Montecito and spent most of the days in our PJs, watching movies or Parks and Recreation on an iPad in bed. One night, we forced ourselves to get dressed up for dinner like it was a real date. Only we actually ate the food this time and there were fifteen fewer cameramen watching.
It was fun to lounge around, but it was also a lot of alone time, too, and we both went a little stir-crazy cooped up indoors. Ben, again, spent a buttload of time working on his laptop, while I puttered around aimlessly. We weren’t allowed to go for a walk or run. My job entailed going to castings, which I couldn’t do during these long weekends. Ben also invited his handler over for lunch one afternoon. It wasn’t the first time I noticed that Ben needed to be surrounded by “his people,” and definitely not the last.
Ben wasn’t overly attentive to me when I was right in front of his face, and he was even less so when we were apart. On New Year’s Eve, two nights before our big Bachelor
season premiere, he cohosted the ball drop in Times Square with Jenny McCarthy and Ryan Seacrest, while I stayed home by myself and drank a bottle of wine. I stayed up all night to watch him and he texted me one picture.
We didn’t even watch our first episode together. My roommate, Ally, had a viewing party, but it was really awkward watching the show with so many people. They kept talking loudly during it and I just couldn’t stand watching myself. Halfway through that first episode, I went into my room and didn’t watch another second of my season until more than a year later.
Three days after the show aired, Ben and I had another Happy Couple Weekend at a mansion in Bel Air. We picked the location so he could easily do appearances in Hollywood. I actually felt bad for him. He had so much press to do he was being run ragged.
He had one very early morning interview on Ryan Seacrest’s radio show. According to a friend/spy who worked there, the American Idol host had a mildly inappropriate conversation with my hubby-to-be after their interview.
“Dude, she’s so hot,” Ryan allegedly told Ben.
“Yeah, I never thought I could get a girl like that.”
Well, he got me but wasn’t doing much to keep me. During our Happy Couple Weekend, Ben was gone one entire day and spent much of our other time together on his computer, wearing a Lululemon workout outfit, which was kind of a turnoff. I did have a handler drive me out to one casting, but other than that I found myself sitting by the pool alone most of the weekend. He’d come out to kiss me a few times and thank me for being so understanding.
I Didn't Come Here to Make Friends: Confessions of a Reality Show Villain Page 15
