Free I Didn't Come Here to Make Friends by Courtney Robertson

apologized for picking neither girl in his first incarnation as the Bachelor and was enthusiastically and sincerely looking for real love and a wife. He was being so romantic and chivalrous, unlike Dylan.
    During one of those commercial breaks, when host Chris Harrison asked, “If you’d like to be on the next Bachelor . . .” my ears perked up. Impulsively, I got my laptop, logged on to ABC.com, and applied.
    The generic questionnaire took about ten minutes to fill out. I uploaded three of my favorite modeling pictures and wrote a short essay, explaining that it was hard finding love in L.A., that I’d dated actors and models, had my heart broken, and worked my ass off. But after being told by my last two boyfriends that they didn’t believe in marriage, I was a hopeless romantic looking for someone who did believe in making a lifetime commitment.
    When I pressed SEND , it felt no different, no more possible, than signing up for one of those “Win a free iPad!” contests.
    I didn’t expect to ever hear anything back.
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    KEEPING IT REAL
    How to Get Noticed in the Application
Send in your best photo. Cut to the chase and save producers time by wearing a bikini in the photo.
Be heartbroken. A good breakup story, in which you’ve been dumped cruelly and callously, helps your chances.
But be ready for love. Nobody wants to date a sad sack. Say you’ve recovered and are looking for the real thing.
Show off your romantic side. Tell stories about the most romantic thing you’ve ever done. But don’t lie. They will eventually figure that out.
Toss around some clichés. They really like it when you say you want a good story to tell your grandkids someday, or that life is better spent when shared.
Don’t beg. That’s unattractive.
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    I was single again, but not for long. The serial rebounder strikes again! The day after I shot the e-mail off into the Bachelor abyss, I ran into Cavan on one of my fat-burning power walks through Venice. He asked me out, and I said yes, even though he was moving back to San Francisco and wasn’t really my type. He was bald and kind of overweight, but had a sexy swagger. His confidence was off the charts and he was really funny. We got some fish tacos at James’ Beach, made almost famous in the movie I Love You, Man, and I was instantly smitten. What can I say? After being burned by Dylan, Cavan was refreshing, a real man: he was independent, hardworking, and a true gentleman.
    When it rains it pours. Within two days of that first date, I got an e-mail from a producer on The Bachelor, asking if I would come in to meet them at their production office on Bundy and Olympic, which was conveniently located just down the street from my new house. I was totally surprised. I was so certain I’d never hear back I’d already forgotten that I’d sent the e-mail. I didn’t respond right away. I went on date number two with Cavan first, and he was so charming, I confessed right on the spot that I liked him. After his eye twitched a little, he said he really liked me, too. And just like that, I had an insta-boyfriend and a response for The Bachelor producer. I thanked her for reaching out, but informed her I’d met someone and that I’d be back in touch if anything changed.
    Of course, it did change. I quickly realized that at thirty-five, Cavan was a little too old for me. I was twenty-seven at this point. Plus my crazy, nonstop love life was also starting to get a little old. And with Cavan in San Francisco, I was back in an annoying long-distance relationship.
    Because I was often home alone, my sister Rachel came to visit me a lot. She unapologetically liked to watch TV, just like me, and we got really into the new season of The Bachelorette together. Ashley Hebert was the lucky girl looking for love this time and Rachel asked me which guy I liked best.
    “Ben,” I said without hesitation. I thought the sweet wine maker from Sonoma was so cute and almost sad. I loved his long hair. He