by Sean Lowe
Of course, there was never any time to sit around and dream of one person.
During the next few weeks, we had one-on-one dates, two-on-one dates, and group dates. Some dates were better than others. One good group date was when we got together on the beach for a volleyball match. Apparently, none of these ladies had ever played volleyball, but we had a great time playing around, tossing the football, and throwing the Frisbee. Catherine got on my back to see if I could do push-ups with her added weight—which, of course, I could. I felt comfortable around her, and she seemed to make the most of every situation. This was a good trait to have, because the next group date—at a roller derby—was pretty disastrous.
At first, I thought it would be fun to see who would compete and embrace the physicality of the sport. But as soon as the girls put on their skates, I knew it was not practical to ask the women to skate on an embanked track while hitting one another. Everyone was having a tough time during practice, and then one of the girls—Amanda—fell and busted her chin.
“Let’s do an old-school free skate instead,” I suggested. I was there to spend time with the women, not to watch them hurt one another.
While some of the girls didn’t want to skate—understandably fearing they’d get hurt—Catherine was game for anything and had a fun time.
Wow, she’s really enjoying this, I thought. Even though this date is awkward, she’s just enjoying the day.
After the roller derby, the girls got dressed to get ready for the night portion. We went to the Roosevelt, a cool Hollywood hotel, where a beautiful rooftop party had been set up for us. On the group dates, the night always ended going from girl to girl to girl, getting to know them better. The only problem was logistics. No matter where I was, I was inside with the girls most of the time.
“Mary Kate, can you put me somewhere with Catherine where we can be alone?” I asked off camera. I’d had so much fun with her, I wondered if it was the right time to see if there was also a romantic spark.
Mary Kate put us in a private area where there were curtains, so nobody could see in. Well, nobody except the millions of people watching from home. My main goal was not to be insensitive to the other women.
While we were chatting, I put my hand on her knee to send a message: I’m interested in you. However, she didn’t reciprocate. She acted nervous and—to be honest—kind of weird. Does this girl even like me? I wondered.
Since she’d given me a note during a previous date, I handed her a little note of my own, which read, “I really like your nose crinkles.” When she smiled, her nose crinkled up in the most adorable way. When I handed the note to her, I thought, If that doesn’t do it, nothing’s going to do it.
It didn’t do it.
And so, even though the setting was perfect and private, I didn’t swoop in for a kiss. The moment had passed. When we wrapped up our conversation, I was kind of bummed. I couldn’t read her at that moment. Was she nervous? Giddy because of the odd situation? Maybe she just wasn’t feeling me. Catherine was really hard to read, which left me with a lot of questions.
The Bachelor has to have a nice ride, and the show always made sure I got the best cars.
That week, I picked up my one-on-one date, Leslie Hughes, in an Aston Martin. During our Pretty Woman–themed date, I took her to Rodeo Drive, where she got to pick out a dress, purse, and shoes from Badgley Mischka.
“I’m a tan Julia Roberts!” Leslie (who’s African American) laughed.
She looked even more stunning when Neil Lane let her wear a 120-carat diamond necklace.
Leslie was friendly, kind, and down-to-earth. I think she said “Holy moly” at least a dozen times because of the extravagance of the date. I could tell she was grateful to be on the date with me, and I was thankful to spend it with her.
We had dinner at an old building in downtown Los Angeles, but I was distracted the whole time. Even though she was beautiful, elegant, and charming, I didn’t feel a connection with her. At the end of the date, I had a choice to make—to hand out the rose or not. If I didn’t feel a romantic connection, it meant I had to send her home at the end of the date. My stomach churned along with every sip of wine and every turn of the conversation.
Mary Kate pulled me aside for my ITM interview.
“Sean, how do you feel your date is going?” she asked.
“Leslie’s gorgeous and our conversation flows effortlessly,” I said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but the connection isn’t there.”
When I went back to the dinner table, we were supposed to talk for a few more minutes. The producers were standing inconspicuously in the background. While we were chatting, I had an eye on the producers in my peripheral vision as I watched for their “wrap it up” sign. When I saw it, I moved the conversation to a close so we could move into the part I was dreading most.
Whether or not I handed out a rose, the producers wanted me to pick up the rose before I explained my decision. That night, I picked up the rose. Leslie smiled. My heart sank. I explained that I regrettably didn’t see a future for us.
“You don’t see any romantic connection?” she asked, caught completely off guard.
Sending her home was one of the more difficult things I had to do all season because she didn’t see it coming. I admired and respected Leslie for so many reasons, but I knew she wasn’t the one for me.
I escorted her outside, and we began saying our awkward good-byes.
A producer, who had been lurking in the background, pulled me aside to deliver urgent information. “You have to take that necklace off before she gets in the car,” she said.
“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
“It’s worth over one hundred fifty thousand dollars,” she whispered.
“No,” I said flatly. “I’m not going to do it.”
I felt awful about sending Leslie home. Asking her to hold on while I took the necklace off her felt like putting salt in the wound. I continued with our good-bye conversation when a lower-level staff member showed up.
“I’m sorry, but you have to do it,” the staffer said.
This time, Leslie overheard the conversation, and I was furious.
“No, it’s okay,” she said graciously.
I quickly unlatched the necklace, tossed the $150,000 necklace to the producer, and stormed back inside.
Leigh Anne, the executive producer, met me as soon as I stepped inside.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “We didn’t mean to surprise you like that.”
“It was such bad form,” I said. “Not only did I send her home, but I had to snatch the necklace off her neck?”
James Taylor’s son Ben was scheduled to perform for us that night, and the show went on as planned. I listened to him sing a song undoubtedly selected anticipating this would be some sort of romantic moment. My mind raced as I leaned against a railing, holding the rose I didn’t give to Leslie.
eleven
MOVING OUT OF THE FRIEND ZONE
The next pre–rose ceremony cocktail party seemed to go on and on. I had to make my rounds to talk to every girl. A palpable sense of desperation hung in the room as each woman made a last-ditch effort at proving she deserved to stay another week. When my time to talk to Catherine came, the producers put us in the mezzanine area above the pool.
“I was really hoping to kiss you tonight, but unfortunately the other girls can see,” Catherine said, handing me a card with her lipstick imprint.
I’d thought Catherine had put me squarely in the friend zone by not seeming interested on the last group date. This card filled me with confidence. “You know, I’m the Bachelor. I can go anywhere I want.”
It was a totally arrogant statement, but I wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of our first kiss. I grabbed her hand and walked to the front of the mansion, around the house, and through the gate. When we got to the front driveway, I put my hands around her waist. Because she’s so much shorter than I am, her face only came up to my chest.
So there we were.
She’d told me she wanted to kiss, and I definitely wanted to kiss. Catherine, however, wouldn’t look up at me. She later told me she was nervous because she knew looking up would mean I’d lay one on her. After a few seconds of her giggling, making awkward small talk, and avoiding my eyes, I finally took matters into my own hands.
“You can look up whenever you want to,” I said.
When she lifted her chin, I leaned down, put my lips near hers, and—finally—kissed her.
The kiss was short and sweet, but it apparently made all her nervousness go away. Catherine suddenly got excited and giddy.
“I just want to frolic,” she exclaimed.
Frolic? I thought. Who uses a word like that? What I was beginning to appreciate about Catherine was her willingness to show her emotion. It might be the Italian in her—but when she’s happy, she just can’t hold it back. When a girl needs to frolic, a girl should be able to frolic.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go frolic.”
We grabbed hands, skipped around the front driveway, and acted absolutely goofy.
She was on top of the world and so was I. And so we danced around the front yard, high on emotion and our budding romance.
Of course, our time together couldn’t last forever. Pretty soon, producers whisked me away for another tough rose ceremony. I was exhausted from the day-in, day-out emotional roller coaster by the time I went back into the girls’ mansion to do my ITMs. It was four o’clock in the morning, and I could barely think straight.
I shook my head a bit to wake myself up before Mary Kate went through her list asking me about every girl. She—and the rest of the producers—wore earpieces that allowed them to hear everything that was going on. Whether I was on a date, at a rose ceremony, or frolicking in the driveway, the producers heard every word. Even though Mary Kate was always out of sight of the cameras, she was taking notes that she used during the ITM interviews. She might ask, “Tierra told you this tonight. What did you think about that?” Or “How did you feel when Catherine said this about this?” What the girls didn’t know was that I filmed these interviews inside the mansion while they were upstairs sleeping.
After I wrapped up my interview, I shuffled through the mansion, my head down as I thought about my head hitting my pillow. Tired, exhausted, and hungry, I was getting weary of the eighteen-hour days. Just then, I saw Catherine at the top of the staircase. Her face was cleanly scrubbed, and she had her toothbrush in her hand.
“Sean.” She paused. “What are you doing here?”
“Catherine, no!” her house producers said as they realized we’d seen each other and practically threw their bodies between us. Their ironclad rule is this: no interaction off camera. If something is said off camera that changes the direction of the relationship, it’s hard to convey that on film. (This recently happened on Juan Pablo’s season, when he uttered something profane to one of the last two remaining girls in a helicopter, causing the show to awkwardly try to convey what we’d missed and why the woman was so angry.) “No!”
As they tried to hold her back, Catherine fought through them, ran up to me, and gave me the biggest hug. It was such a special moment. As I went back to my place, my mind swirled with thoughts of Catherine.
My time in Los Angeles was amazing, but I was excited to get away from California for a change of scenery. Our next stop was Whitefish, Montana, one of the coolest towns I have ever visited. The mountains, trees, and rivers made this the perfect destination for romance. I’m an outdoorsy guy, so I knew I would really connect with the women who shared a similar appreciation for nature.
My first date with Lindsay couldn’t have gone better. We felt so comfortable around each other, and being together felt right. We took the helicopter to the stunning mountaintop of Glacier National Park and set up our picnic. You’ll notice picnics are a staple of most dates on The Bachelor because they give couples a picturesque moment to chat.
I liked Lindsay from the moment she stepped out of the limo in her wedding dress. Well, maybe a few minutes later, when I finally realized she wasn’t crazy. On our one-on-one date, however, I began to connect with her in a real way. She told me she wrestled in high school, which, of course, meant I had to challenge her to a match. Believe it or not, she took me down. I loved seeing Lindsay’s playful and fun spirit, and I felt like I had accomplished my goal for my season—to let the fun and goofiness of my personality (and the girls’) shine through.
Lindsay also had a serious side. She opened up about her fear when her dad was deployed to Iraq and how her mother held the family together during his absence. This was when I realized where Lindsay’s supportive and caring nature came from. Every other girl would hound me about getting a one-on-one date, but Lindsay never brought it up. Instead, she always reminded me she wasn’t going anywhere. She once mentioned she thought it was good for me to get to know everyone else so that I would eventually learn she’s the one for me.
That’s confidence, and I liked it.
We ended the night dancing in the town square. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life.
Could Lindsay, I wondered, one day be my wife?
Honestly, I could see it.
The group date in Montana was, suitably, called the “lumberjack challenge.” The girls had to saw wood, carry hay bales, and canoe—a nice change of pace from the normal bungee cord jumping or Beverly Hills–type dates common to the show. Definitely safer than roller derby. Before the date started, I walked through the downtown Whitefish restaurant with the director, who pointed out all the spots I could sit with the girls.
“Here’s a spot right here,” she said, pointing to a table. “Or you could also sit here,” she said, pointing to an area they’d set up in the corner. The producers thought carefully about where we could sit and talk so they’d be camera-ready when the time came.
The evening portion of the date was going well, and I was dutifully taking each woman to the predetermined, candlelit spots. Halfway through the evening, Catherine grabbed my hand.
“Let’s go outside!” she said. Judging from the way the cameramen scurried to follow us, the producers apparently didn’t know this was coming. When something unexpected happened on the show, they didn’t try to stop it from unfolding. Rather, they did the best they could to capture it on film—which is why close observers of the show sometimes see cameramen running in the background. Usually, that’s when something good is about to happen!
We walked out the back door and went back behind the restaurant/bar into their parking lot holding hands, laughing, giggling, and having a good time. There were a couple of guys out in the back who weren’t impressed by our giddy lovefest.
“Get out of Whitefish,” one of the guys slurred. “We don’t need you here!”
“Why don’t you shut up and go back inside the bar?” I said.
It was a funny backdrop for what was supposed to be a romantic conversation. Maybe that’s why the producers set everything up in advance, I thought. The drunk guys’ disapproval didn’t matter to us. Catherine and I sat on a bench and chatted away excitedly.
While the group date was pleasant, the pre–rose ceremony cocktail party that week was a disaster. Tension among the girls bubbled right under the surface, and apparently the drama surrounded Tierra. I was beginning to sense a pattern. I heard rumblings that she was different around me than she was around the girls, but I hated taking secondhand information. I wanted to judge someone based on what I’d seen—not what I’d heard. Tierra was kind and nice to me at all times, so I pushed any criticism I heard about it out of my head. But I couldn’t ignore the snippy fighting I heard all night. During the party, there was an epic battle raging from room to room, focusing on Tierra and putting everyone on edge.
When I finally had a chance to sit down with Harrison before the rose ceremony, I was fed up.
“I feel like I’ve wasted everyone’s time,” I told him. “Including my own.”
“What’s going on?” he asked me.
“I’ve had a good time, but I am so sick of the drama. I can’t imagine my wife is in this bunch.”
Harrison, to his credit, didn’t push me too hard. He just listened and nodded, and assured me he’d seen much worse. “Listen, Sean, I know it seems overwhelming right now, but this, too, will pass.”
I listened to his counsel, sent someone home, and went back to my place.
I couldn’t shake the feeling.
This just didn’t feel like the right way to meet a wife.
Though Whitefish was beautiful, I was glad to pack my bags for Canada. Our next destination was the Fairmont Chateau, nestled on the shore of Lake Louise in the Canadian Rockies, which had—over the years—hosted many kings and queens. Surrounded by enormous mountain peaks, the jaw-dropping Victoria Glacier, and a vibrant teal-blue lake, it was the most majestic area I’d ever seen.
The date card that week read, “Let’s find our fairy-tale ending” and went to Catherine. I was over the drama, over the women talking about the drama, and ready to find a partner I could see myself with for a lifetime. Could Catherine be that person? I doubted it but was excited about exploring the opportunity.
Everything was working against us on our date. I arrived early because they had to teach me how to drive a gigantic bus that would take us on an excursion to a glacier in Jasper National Park. However, blizzard-like conditions crept up on us as we prepared.
“You ready?” Mary Kate asked, standing next to the enormous vehicle. “It looks like there’s a storm coming that we didn’t anticipate.”
