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Her excitement is palpable, and I can feel my own rise. I begin to think that this could actually be it for me. I could be matched on this reality show with someone who is my perfect other half, and we could make a life with each other.
That always happens on reality dating shows, right?
Right.
“You and your feelings.”
“I was right about Greg.” She points the pizza slice at me.
Thoughts of my slimy ex-boyfriend enter my head, and I try to push them out just as quickly. I was head over heels for him, even thought he would propose. I didn’t expect to find him bending my former best friend and coworker over her desk, passionately fucking her.
“Ugh, don’t talk about him.”
“He was a snake in the grass, and I was the first one to tell you.”
“I know. I know. I am the worst picker in the world.”
“That’s why you need the experts to pick for you. Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy.”
“Easy-peasy,” I parrot back, still not sure about my foray into putting my personal life out there for people to watch.
This sounds like a supremely bad idea, which is my specialty, so what can it hurt?
I lazily blink my eyes open, the shrill sound of my phone alarm going off on the nightstand next to me. Immediately, apprehension punches me in the gut, and I don’t think I breathe for an entire minute.
This can’t be healthy, right?
I’ve never been one to put myself out there, in the spotlight. I like to live behind the scenes, go with the flow, and not create unnecessary drama for anyone or anything. That’s the complete opposite of a reality dating show. There’s really not a good way to spin this.
But I guess in some strange way, this show really is trying to find actual couples to match up. They did an in-depth questionnaire, followed up by three different interviews, where they asked me everything, short of what I’d eaten for breakfast that morning. They wanted to know my likes, dislikes, views on politics and religion, and even what I thought about different scenarios. I loved how detailed it was. As a teacher, I have a soft spot for those who value organization and comprehensive lists. But even I was getting tired by the end of it all.
My phone rings, breaking me out of my reverie, and I reach over, grabbing it and swiping with my eyes closed, not even looking to see who it is.
“Hello?”
“You’re still asleep?” Desi’s voice has me opening my eyes again.
“Yeah, someone kept me up last night, trying to convince me this could be life-changing.” I groan as I roll over, pulling the phone away to check the time.
How the hell did thirty minutes go by?
I scramble out of bed, grabbing my water bottle from beside where my phone was sitting, and make my way into the bathroom, turning the shower on to warm up as I load my toothbrush up with paste.
“You need to get your ass in gear. You’ve got to be at the taping studio in forty-five minutes.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say around a mouthful of toothpaste foam. I roll my eyes at myself in the mirror.
The taping studio is the community center. Camera, sound, and lighting crews have taken it over for the last week, transforming it into different sections that we will no doubt be paraded through. Looking like zoo animals on display. Feeling like zoo animals on display.
I’m having a hard time imagining who they might have me paired up with, but it can’t be any worse than Greg.
“It’s only for six weeks,” I murmur, forgetting about the phone I have pressed to my ear.
“What?” Desi’s confused tone hits me, and I jump.
“Nothing. I’ve got to get in the shower.”
“Good luck,” she says. I can hear the laughter in her voice.
