Eight Weeks to Mr. Right by Amy Archer Page B

told him about reading the news from La Joie that their CEO, Andrew Audrave, was going on the inaugural season of a new show called Eight Weeks to Mr. Right , which was currently holding auditions for female contestants. I knew that most of the contestants would never have heard of Andrew before applying for the show, but I was very familiar with him. I’d been following him for years.  
    “After all,” I said, “he’s really young to be CEO of a big company like that. It’s very unusual.”
    “How did he get there?” Ben asked, and I told him about Andrew’s dad stepping down due to health problems and surprising the industry by wanting his son to succeed him. But the board had voted him in, and so there he was.
    “Huh,” Ben said, an unreadable expression flickering across his face.
    I hesitated, wondering what he was thinking.
    “So it was almost a joke when he announced that he’d go on this reality show,” I continued. “This young CEO, he’d been in the position for a few years but was still trying to prove himself. And then he decided to do reality TV? When he was worried about people not taking him seriously enough?”
    “It does seem like an odd choice,” Ben agreed.  
    “I thought so too. But the more I thought about it, I realized it was all part of his strategy. Get younger people into the industry, everyday people. People who watch reality TV.”
    “So you’re saying you think he went on the show as a career move.”
    “I know he did,” I said. “He didn’t really expect to find love, not in the start. He just wanted the exposure that being on national TV can bring. It’s free advertising and gets a whole new demographic interested in his perfumes, people who think the older, more established brands are old-fashioned and overpriced.”
    “Okay,” he said. “That makes sense.”
    “So I figured, he’s doing this to advance his career, why shouldn’t I? Working for La Joie is my dream. It’s been my dream since years before Andrew decided to go on the show, since before he was ever named CEO. And like I said, I was lonely in New York and bored with my job. And I just thought…why not?”
    “Why not indeed,” Ben said. “That makes a lot of sense.”  
    I pulled at a thread on my sweater, thinking back on that decision. Mr. Right was a new show, so no one had heard of it yet when I’d decided to apply. Somehow, it had felt like the safety of obscurity would follow me once I’d been chosen and started filming. There had been a disconnect between knowing that the show would be on TV, and actually seeing myself appear on network television.  
    At the time, I never would’ve guessed that anyone would care if I only went on the show to further my career. I’d known enough not to tell the producers outright, but back then the idea that other contestants or viewers would think poorly of me for my choice had seemed as remote as thinking I might actually be romantically attracted to Andrew. Now, it all felt a little more real. The reality of reality TV.
    “So what about you?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. “What have you been doing since high school? How did you get into the job you have now?”
    “I’ve mostly stuck around here,” Ben said. “I got a communications degree, worked for a couple of other nonprofits, learned the ropes. When something came open at the San Francisco Mentorship Alliance, I applied, and I’ve been there for about three years. Pretty boring.”
    I looked at him sitting there in his old but comfortable apartment on his cozy couch. His hair fell over his eye as he spoke, and he pushed it back with one hand. He looked confident, calm. Like he knew what he wanted out of life and knew how to get it. Like maybe he already had it.  
    “I don’t think it’s boring at all,” I said. Ben was the last person on earth I would’ve described as boring, especially in that moment. “I think it sounds really wonderful. Good for you.” He looked