Commercial Break
Instinctively, I look down at my hands—a slight cold wetness forms in the creases of my palms—and twist the empty skin of my left ring finger. The studio lights are bright, and I'm sure if someone were to stand behind me, the lights would illuminate my inner organs like a macabre shadow puppet play centered around an overheating heart.
A production assistant has just informed me that we'll resume taping in a few minutes. Behind the wall to my right is my ex-girlfriend, and over the next few hours, I will attempt to win back her love from the other two contestants.
Bachelor One is the guy she went to college with and recently met up with again during a trip to California. They quickly rekindled a romance and, as he informed me before the taping, spent most of the night looking for an empty space to "fuck in." He's the type of guy who winks when he talks about a woman's personality and proudly and erroneously "rounds up" when counting off the women he's slept with.
Bachelorette Two looks peculiarly like my girlfriend. Her long brown hair with hints of auburn streaked throughout cascaded down her shoulders and back. She stands a little taller than my girlfriend. She's more assured and more proud. She seems like the type of person who could use big words like "zeitgeist" and "parsimonious" correctly and confidently in a sentence. She's the ideal, or, more correctly, my girlfriend's idea of the ideal.
I'm Bachelor Three, still unsure of how I got here and wondering when and why I signed up for this. There'd been some bumps - arguments, disagreements, and an instance of cheating on her part - but all of these were dulled by my genuine love for her. That didn't seem to matter. Because I was now on national television, hoping my answers to her pre-written questions would be enough to win her back.
Someone with a headset counts down from five behind a camera and points at the host. The host welcomes everyone back from the commercial break and reminds us that my girlfriend behind the wall has some hard choices to make. His billboard of white teeth clacks into a smile at the end of each sentence because no matter how this ends up, he's still getting paid.
I hear her clear her throat - the studio mics pick up any and all hiccups, snorts, and laughs. I wonder if it can hear my heart beating. The same voice that cried when she told me she loved me asks, "Bachelorette Two, do you believe in love at first sight?"
"Absolutely not. Love is something that's built; it's not just some random thing you happen upon," Bachelorette Two pauses and thinks for a second, "But you know what, you can love yourself at first sight."
"Interesting. Bachelor One, same question."
"Baby, once you get on the other side of this wall and see me, you'll know for a fact that love at first sight exists."
"Wow. Ok. And Bachelor Three...?"
---
I'd been at work late, and the subways were backed up. The 2nd Avenue Subway was still years away from being completed, so the Lexington Line was - typically - notoriously overcrowded. I reached the fifth floor of my apartment building, fumbled for my keys, and pushed my way into my front door with an exasperated breath. In the distance, I heard my roommate talking to someone.
I rolled my eyes, wanting only some relaxation in front of the television. This stranger would undoubtedly cut into my attempt at eating a horribly constructed dinner, drinking cheap beer, and passing out in front of some shitty reality programming.
I slogged off my coat and tucked my bag into my room, then trudged out into the living room to see who this interloper was.
My roommate introduced us, but I don't remember saying hello or telling her my name. I just remember thinking, "This girl is going to be so much trouble."
My roommate fell into the distance, swallowed by a room that no longer needed her. She may have gone to get food or lit the apartment on fire. There was a connection happening in that small living room, and she wasn't part of it.
We spoke all night. For the next week, everything was brighter and more colorful, and this wonderful person, whom I'd known for only a few short days, made me rethink all that was possible in life.
---
"Love at first sight is real. Absolutely." I say, my first confident statement of the program.
"Ok, a man who thinks true love is a reality," the host smirks into the camera, "how cute."
"Uh, I have a follow-up," my ex-girlfriend asks from her corner of the studio, "Bachelor Three, where would we go on our first date?"
---
"No one wants me here. I'm going to go," she says, not as a threat but as a resignation.
"Well, I don't care about them. I want you here. And if you're leaving, I'm leaving too," I respond with an unexpected coolness. She grabs my hand, and we run out of the bar into the rush of cold wind blowing through the wide avenues of the Upper East Side.
Once we caught our breath from climbing the five flights of stairs to the railroad apartment I shared with her best friend, things went from flirtatious tension to parental advisory. And even though she left to go to work the next morning, I crawled back into bed and hugged my pillows, letting the remnants of her perfume invade my soul, all the while trying to relive the magic of the night before over and over in my head.
---
The host cuts in, "Bachelor Three? We're waiting."
"Uh, we'd grab some drinks with friends. Then head back to my apartment for a nightcap." I keep it clean for the television-viewing audience.
The host continues and moves through my competition. Bachelor One invents some wonderful—though absurdist—date involving horseback riding on a beach and drinking margaritas on a boat. The fool doesn't even know she hates tequila. Bachelorette Two talks about discovering themselves, understanding what it is that they want together, and how best to reach their goals. This response gets a positive reaction from my girlfriend.
"Bachelor One, what are your best qualities?" she asks by reading off a blue notecard in front of her. Bachelor One shifts in his chair and smirks, bordering on a smile.
"That's a great question. I'd have to say that I'm exciting. I'm different. And I'll challenge you."
"Bachelorette Two, same question."
"I'm driven. I'm successful. And most importantly, I won't let anything stand in my way of happiness."
Subconsciously, I lean away from Bachelorette Two.
"And finally, Bachelor Three, how would you answer that question?"
---
We are on a hammock just after sunset. The summer birds have gone to sleep, and fireflies blink all around us. This is the first moment we've had alone all weekend. Her head is on my chest, and I feel a small, warm, wet spot form on my shirt near her eye. I pull her in tightly, silently letting her know that I know. She looks up at me, smiles, and buries her face deeper into the comfort of my chest.
---
"I'm a good listener," I respond, sure that I've said the wrong thing.
The host cringes a bit.
"OK!" the host with the teeth again, "Here's our last round of questions. Then we'll see if we've made a match here tonight!"
Behind the wall, my girlfriend's chair squeaks as she turns in it. I imagine her biting her bottom lip as she did so often when she was troubled or deep in thought.
"Bachelor Two," she says, "If I had to end our relationship to figure out who I was, would you let me go?"
Bachelorette Two seems taken aback by the question. She thinks for a second and finally leans into the mic, "Well, yes. But I'm hoping that we can find each other."
Bachelor One doesn't even wait for her to repeat the question, "No way! You'd never leave me. I'm all you need and all you want."
"Bachelor Three," she pauses briefly, "Bachelor Three if I had to leave you to figure out who I was, would you let me go?
---
She's been gone for a week. I still find her bobby pins everywhere, and her clothes still stick out in triangles from our shared dresser. Our apartment is lonely, quiet, and different.
She'd taken a job out in California - one that seemed promising and exciting, and if I'm being totally honest, a needed change. Her infidelity a few months back was really nothing more than a "par for the course" of a relationship in turmoil. Before that, she'd started taking weekend trips without me, and I'd stay out late at bars with friends, trying to think up excuses not to come home early. We were growing distant, two large masses feeding off each other's gravitational pull but needing to explore the "what ifs" of an endless universe.
When she told me she wanted to take the job, I knew there was no convincing her otherwise. Her eyes had a flame in them - one that I hadn't seen in months. And so, I said I'd support her no matter what.
---
"Of course," I mutter into the microphone, "if you haven't found yourself, I wouldn't want to keep you from figuring that out."
It's a lie. I wanted her to go, but more than anything, I wanted her to go and realize she needed me. To realize that I needed her. To come back because we needed us.
I slumped in my chair, tired, worn out, and defeated. I knew how this was going to play out even before I entered the studio this morning.
"Alright, folks, let's see who she's picked."
The stage lights, attached to small motors, shoot their beams downward in dramatic fashion. A pre-taped musical sting creates tension. Once again, I twist the skin on my left ring finger nervously.
"I've given it careful consideration, and I think I'm most compatible with…” pause for dramatic effect, “Bachelorette Two."
When Bachelorette Two stands up, the stage lights point toward her in unison, bringing much-needed darkness and letting my pupils expand for the first time in a few hours. She's laughing and covering her mouth like she just won an Oscar. The host guides her across the studio floor and behind the wall, where my girlfriend—sorry, my ex-girlfriend—and Bachelorette Two undoubtedly embrace.
I don't bother seeing what the consolation prize is. I walk through the dark door to the studio and out into the world alone.
---
I roll over in what was once our bed in the boxed-up space that was once our apartment and bury my face into what were once our pillows. For the last few moments in this place we once called home, I replay only the good moments we shared together, thankful that we got to share them at all.
