For the Right Reasons: America's Favorite Bachelor on Faith, Love, Marriage, and Why Nice Guys Finish First

by Sean Lowe

  As we watched that episode later that night, my friends were supportive, but they also gave me a hard time.

  “You’re running through the streets of Prague screaming her name?” Stephanie asked.

  “Did you think the producers didn’t know where she was?” Murrey asked.

  Anytime I did or said something weird on the show, my friends quickly pointed it out and laughed. Even worse, everyone groaned when they saw me kissing Emily on-screen. There is nothing more peculiar than seeing yourself kiss another person—especially in the close-up way The Bachelorette films it. I knew my friends’ teasing came from a place of deep love, so I laughed along with them. As the weeks progressed, my relationship with Emily got more serious on the screen, even as the stranglehold of sadness loosened its grip on my heart.

  When the episode aired during which I got the boot, the room was stone silent.

  “Are you okay?” one asked, giving me a hug. My phone lit up with concerned texts and calls. All my friends wanted to express kindness to me, which I so appreciated. What most people failed to understand was that my heart had been broken months prior to airing. By the time she sent me home on television, I’d finally gotten over Emily.

  In fact, after seeing how everything ended up for her, I was sort of relieved she’d sent me home. Though I think I could’ve made her happy as a husband, I saw that she was attracted to a very different type of guy. It was all for the best, and I was thrilled when I finally realized that.

  My newfound peace of mind didn’t stop me from enjoying all the love my friends and supporters sent my way. It felt good to be loved on.

  After the season was over, I saw that Emily had ended up with Jef—an all-around great guy. Something about seeing them get engaged and the show wrapping up gave me a gigantic sense of relief. I’d heard so many horror stories about how producers in reality TV have such power over how people are portrayed. By taking clips out of context and using selective quotes, they could make a perfectly reasonable person look like a lunatic. Perhaps that’s true on some reality TV shows, but I found that I was portrayed on the show exactly how I am in real life. In general, people who end up as reality TV villains usually are jerks in real life. The ones who seem like nice folks usually are. My theory is that the camera doesn’t really lie—at least, not on The Bachelorette. Because they film for many consecutive weeks, what you see is usually what you get because it’s hard to maintain a fake personality for that long.

  I flew to Los Angeles to meet the producers of The Bachelor and to solidify my standing as the next Bachelor. Also, there were other fun activities I got to participate in as a member of the cast of The Bachelorette.

  For example, Cole Hamels—a pitcher for the Phillies and apparently a Bachelorette fan—invited some of us to his event for the Hamels Foundation, a charity supporting Philadelphia inner-city schools and a school in Malawi.

  When I arrived at the event, I grabbed a drink and looked around the room to see if I could find any other Bachelorette alumni. That’s when I saw her.

  Brooke.

  Now married to a Phillies baseball player, we somehow ended up at the same party on the other side of the country. There were a lot of people at this charity event, and I wondered if I should pretend I hadn’t seen her. As I was standing there gawking, I caught her eye. She looked momentarily surprised but smiled back. It was going to be weird to say hello to her and her new husband, but I figured it would’ve been weirder not to.

  “Brooke?” I said, walking up to them. She looked radiant.

  “Hey, how you doing?” I introduced myself to her husband, who was well aware of our previous relationship. “Great to see you.”

  “How are the dogs?” she asked.

  As we exchanged awkward chitchat, I wasn’t sure if I’d made the right decision. After a few minutes of stunted conversation, I excused myself.

  As I walked away from them, I realized how much I missed her. I was thrilled she was happily married, but seeing her reminded me that she’d moved on and our friendship was—necessarily—over. An hour or so later, I ran into her again, but this time she was alone.

  “I watched the show,” she said. “When you talked about us, you didn’t really tell the whole story.”

  “I know,” I said. On television, I explained I’d had a three-year relationship with someone who simply wasn’t the one for me. I’d left out the part about me going back to Brooke and asking her to take me back. “I had to paint a picture without going into exhausting detail about any former relationships.”

  Her face fell a bit.

  “I’m sorry,” I said with a pang in my stomach.

  Later, I saw Brooke and her husband from afar at a church in Dallas. I watched the two of them with their hands in the air, worshipping together, and it brought me so much peace. I left church with a huge smile on my face, a strong sense of satisfaction, and not a trace of jealousy.

  I was so happy she ended up with such a great guy and an amazing marriage.

  I wondered if I’d ever find that for myself.

  ten

  THE DRIVER’S SEAT

  “God, lead me. You’re in control of this,” I prayed while waiting for the women to arrive for my season of The Bachelor. (I had expected twenty-five women, but later learned there would be an extra woman that season, making a total of twenty-six.) The mansion was on Canaan Road in Agora Hills, just north of Los Angeles and east of Malibu. Tucked in the hills among other beautiful mansions and scenic wineries, the girls’ house was about a mile down the road from the amazing multimillion-dollar home at which I’d be staying. The home was set on a cliff, and almost every wall was floor-to-ceiling windows. It had a home gym and an awesome pool.

  “I could get used to this,” I told Mary Kate. I’d arrived a week earlier to start shooting for the show and teamed back up with the army of producers. It was a little strange to see Mary Kate because of her friendship with Emily during The Bachelorette.

  “So, how is Emily?” I asked her between takes while we filmed the B-roll footage. They filmed me in a Jeep driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, working out, jogging, and generally getting ready for the girls to arrive.

  “Well, she got your message,” she said. I looked at Mary Kate to make sure I’d heard her correctly. Until that moment, I doubted whether I’d called the right number after I’d just arrived back in Dallas. Because I promised myself not to call twice, I wasn’t sure whether Emily knew I’d tried to reach her. “Emily told me you called, and she wrestled with whether to call you back.”

  “She didn’t,” I said, perhaps too abruptly. “I wouldn’t have called her had I known she was engaged to Jef.”

  Mary Kate nodded. “You okay now?”

  “I can now say it was for the best,” I said. “I was never completely comfortable with her. She was very sweet, nurturing, and loving, and I could see myself marrying her. But I never showed her the goofy side of me.”

  In fact, when my name was being thrown around as the next Bachelor, people in the press and social media said I was too serious and boring to carry an entire season.

  “Now’s your chance to change that,” she said.

  The week of preparation came down to this moment. Since I’d been standing in front of the girls’ mansion for so long—“hurry up and wait” is The Bachelor filming philosophy—the anticipation kept building. My nerves were getting the best of me, so I shut my eyes and asked God to lead me in the right direction. The cameras caught this moment, and the producers decided to air it. I don’t think anyone realized I was praying.

  “Look, he’s so nervous!” a girl in the approaching limo screamed as they drove up.

  Hearing the squeals from the arriving limos was—I had to admit—pretty nice. It felt different being the star of the show. Now, instead of being one of dozens of people trying to make it from week to week, I was the one who would decide who was staying or going. It felt good to be more in control of my situation. Plus, I had an army of peopl
e waiting on me hand and foot. Being the central figure of a television show, if only temporarily, felt really empowering. I don’t think it went to my head, but it allowed me to be a lot more comfortable and natural than I had been on The Bachelorette.

  Did I believe this was the best way to meet women? No.

  I never anticipated falling in love on The Bachelorette. But my cynicism quickly evaporated when I fell in love with Emily and was convinced I’d spend the rest of my life loving her and her daughter. After the heartbreak of losing her, I came to realize that while my feelings for Emily were real, she wasn’t the one for me.

  So there I was, standing in a suit hoping that my future wife would step out of one of the five limos lining the driveway. Would this work out? Doubtful. I’ve always been selective in whom I date. (Even as I write that, I hear Emily’s words echo in my ears: “No, you’re picky.”) There was a really good chance I could meet all twenty-six girls and not have a connection with any of them, no matter how excited they were when they drove up in front of the mansion. Their giggling and squeals may have given me a big head momentarily, but it gave me enough confidence to get through the introductions.

  I was eager to meet the women. Will I feel a connection with anyone? Am I going to meet my future wife tonight? Can I really carry on twenty-six different conversations with twenty-six different women? Am I going to make it out alive?

  Those questions, concerns, and fears were all put to rest as soon as the first person stepped out of the limo. The women amazed me. They seemed sweet, funny, and gorgeous! Any nerves I had going into the first night were calmed by the unusual and very funny antics of a few women, who—of course—tried to pull some stunts in order to stand out among the crowd.

  A woman named Robyn attempted a back handspring—in her formal dress, no less—and landed on her head. While I hated that it happened, I have to admit, it really broke the ice. I love a girl who doesn’t take herself too seriously. A woman named Lesley definitely scored points with me when she pulled out a football. But the woman who made the biggest entrance of the night had to be a woman named Lindsay. The girl showed up in a wedding dress! Was she crazy? Probably, but I definitely wouldn’t forget her.

  There were other antics. One brought pennies to toss into the fountain, one left a lipstick imprint on my face, and one did a Fifty Shades of Grey thing. Though I hadn’t read the books, when she pulled a tie out of her cleavage and wrapped it around me, I got the message.

  The woman who made the best impression on me was Tierra. Her piercing eyes and beautiful smile stopped me in my tracks. I knew right then and there that I wanted to give her a rose. The producers had told me, “If you see a girl outside after she gets out of the limo and you want to give a first impression rose to her, then go ahead and hand it out.” Handing out more than one rose—and right there on the spot—had never been done before on the show. I didn’t stop to think that by giving her a rose so quickly I might be putting a target on her back. All I knew was that I wanted to spend more time with this woman with the big, welcoming smile.

  “Stand here and wait for me just a second,” I said. It was a little awkward to leave her standing there in the middle of the driveway, but I didn’t actually have a rose.

  “I’m gonna give a rose to Tierra,” I said to a producer, who had been hiding around corners so he wouldn’t be seen on camera.

  “Okay, we have to get Harrison in place.”

  Chris Harrison is a real guy’s guy who loves to talk about sports. Even if he’s in the middle of a crass joke, he can flip a switch and suddenly become insta-host. Once he was in place, I walked into the boardroom as if he’d been there all along.

  “Oh, hey, Chris,” I said. “I want to hand out a rose.”

  Chris switched from his casual, hanging-out self into his serious Bachelor-hosting self and said, “Okay, Sean, if you’re sure.”

  When I gave Tierra the rose, she lit up. I knew I’d made the right decision.

  A girl named Catherine got out of the limo wearing a sparkly navy dress and said, “Wow, you’re such a hunk.” There was something quirky and funny about her, which I also liked. I wanted everyone to be more authentic this time around, and it looked as though we’d have no problem with that.

  After meeting all the women, I was finally able to go inside and hang out with them all. I’d never been so overwhelmed in my life!

  “I want you guys to be comfortable around me because I wasn’t always a hundred percent comfortable with Emily,” I said. “We’re never going to figure out if we’re meant to be together if we’re not real. If you’re feeling nervous at all, just be yourself.”

  After my speech, I sat down and talked to each woman on an individual basis—at least, once the initial shock of being in a room full of beautiful women wore off. As soon as I got into my conversations, it was clear they were smart and accomplished too. I’ve always said there’s nothing sexier than a woman’s intellect—and I was certainly not disappointed by this group.

  Honestly, it was exhausting. I wanted to be attentive so I really focused on each woman, but it wore me out. Everything takes so much longer than you can imagine. The hours ticked by on the grandfather clock in the mansion as the cameras were being set up for the rose ceremony. There came a point during the evening when I had to get away for a few minutes by myself to eat and decompress. Even though time passed, the wine and champagne never stopped flowing. That’s why viewers at home might have seen some of the women drink a bit too much. Lindsay, in her wedding dress, was a little tipsy by the time I made my way over to her during the cocktail party. She invited me to dance—without music—and even asked me to kiss her.

  “How about I kiss you on the cheek?” I offered.

  “Are you one of those traditional people?”

  “Maybe a little more than you are.” I laughed.

  I didn’t fault her for having one too many drinks because I’m sure she didn’t anticipate the party lasting so long—it didn’t wind down until seven o’clock the next morning. I only drank Red Bull because I wasn’t going to be the guy who casually sipped on a drink all night and ended up with a lampshade on my head.

  The night was both invigorating and exhausting because I had to stay focused when having conversations with so many women—making eye contact, keeping facts about them straight, and remembering their hometowns—even though I could tell immediately that some of them were not going to work out. Thankfully, Brenner, assigned to be my handler again, ushered me from one girl to another and helpfully reminded me of the pertinent details.

  When I made my way over to talk to Catherine, she pulled out a tray of ice cream with four bowls.

  “Which type of ice cream would you choose?” she asked, pointing to the chocolate, vanilla, cookies and cream, and mint chocolate chip servings.

  “I guess cookies and cream,” I said.

  “Good choice!” she said, indicating it was some sort of “manly flavor.” I’m not sure the science behind her ice cream test was rock-solid, but I knew from the beginning I liked hanging out with her. Was there a romantic connection? Not really. However, I tried to remember the words of wisdom Mary Kate gave me before the show started.

  “You’re going to do yourself a great disservice if you pick out your final four on the very first night,” she’d said to me. “Stay open-minded.”

  And so I stayed open to all the ladies, handing out roses to the ones I liked and wanted to get to know more. I thought handing out roses left and right would make the actual ceremony easier. But when it came time to stand in front of the ladies during the ceremony, I realized it made it more challenging. I looked at the tray, and there were so few roses left. But in front of me, there were still so many great women.

  There were only seven roses to give, which meant several women would have to go home that night. I felt bad about doing it, because I know there’s a certain level of disappointment that comes with being sent home on the first night.

  I’d have t
o get used to making tough decisions.

  After getting the first night out of the way, I was excited to get to know the women better. However, I was nervous about the dynamic of the group date because group dates with Emily had been so uncomfortable. No one really acted like himself in our group dates because it’s awkward to share time with the same person. As the Bachelor, I wanted to set the tone and try to treat everyone equally. I knew this was a virtual impossibility, especially when I found out we were all having a “Harlequin date” and had to act out romance novels. Because romance novels are full of, well, romance, things got uncomfortable pretty quickly. Soon, I was kissing one of the girls while the other women looked on. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed kissing. But I didn’t enjoy kissing in front of a room full of people whom the PDA is actually hurting.

  I could tell Tierra was visibly upset.

  “What’s going on?” I asked when I could pull her away. She’d definitely won me over on the first night, and I wanted her to be happy—even if the circumstances were a bit odd.

  “I’m here for you,” she said. “But I don’t want to make friends with the other women.”

  This is a long ride, I thought. Don’t isolate yourself too much because you might be living with these girls for the next ten weeks. However, I could tell she was uneasy about the idea of vying for attention in a larger group. I understood that.

  As awkward as the group date was, I had a good moment with Catherine. She slipped me a note that read, “I’m vegan but I love the beef.”

  Of course, this was implying that I’m a beefcake, which I loved. I’d known Catherine was beautiful, but only on our group date did I begin to see that she also had a great sense of humor. As a steak-loving Texan, I’d never dated a vegan. Regardless, I definitely wanted to spend more time with this girl from Seattle.

  The one-on-one dates gave me a chance to really get to know the women. My first of the week was with a woman named Desiree, someone with whom I’d gotten along so well the first night. Talking to Des by the fire at the bachelor pad was everything I hoped it would be. She was witty, sarcastic, intelligent, loving, and caring, and our morals seemed to line up. Did I mention she’s beautiful? This girl had it all, and I could feel myself really starting to fall for her. We ended the night with a romantic dip in the hot tub. She left the date with a rose, and I left it thinking Des might just be the one for me.