constantly thought about how empty and hollow I felt. All I did, all day, every day, was sit and think about my failed relationship, and how—IN ONE DAY—my cube had gone from having happy pictures of Tye and me all over it, to having no decorations at all. It was like a metaphor for my life. I was stuck in this dark, empty space, and I didn’t know how to get out.
I had that empty pit in my gut, and I just wanted it to go away, and Tye was just ONE factor that contributed to that pit (albeit, a big factor). I was not happy with where my career was. I was not happy having a home I didn’t like going home to (because it reminded me of Tye). I was not happy that I didn’t have the Cowboys to keep me occupied, and most of my friends were still on the squad. And I was not happy being alone. Even though I was with my friends all of the time at this point, ironically, I felt more alone than I ever had. So I just wanted a change from everything. Not limited to—but definitely including—Tye.
I needed a BIG change: a change of scenery, a change of perspective, a change of direction in my life. I was itching to get out of Dodge. I didn’t want to be in Dallas anymore. I was thinking about relocating to Austin, and I visited there several times while contemplating whether or not the move would make me happy. I was thinking about going for my teacher’s certificate and becoming a teacher, and I still believe I will be a teacher someday. But I couldn’t bring myself to do anything.
And then, one day that summer, I checked my mail, and there was an application for the television dating show, The Bachelor. I was totally dumfounded. The opening letter read: “Thank you for applying to be a candidate on The Bachelor . . .”
What?? I never applied to be on anything. I wouldn’t even know how to go about doing that if I wanted to. What the heck?
Now, over the past six months, several of my girlfriends had joked that I should be on that popular television dating show The Bachelorette. They always told me that I had a lot of things going for me, and that I would absolutely get picked for the show. But I thought it was just my friends trying to cheer me up and make me feel better about myself. I certainly hadn’t taken them seriously. And I certainly hadn’t applied to be on any show.
I couldn’t figure out how the application came to me, but I also knew that it couldn’t have been completely random. It wasn’t like they just handed them out to people at the supermarket. The materials revealed no clues. They thanked me for my interest in becoming a contestant, and included instructions that asked me to complete the entire questionnaire as honestly as possible and mail it back by a certain deadline.
Hmmm . . .
I took the application to work the next day, sat with one of my colleagues who was also a good friend, and got my cell phone out. One by one, I called each of my friends and asked them if they had somehow nominated me to be on The Bachelor. Finally, I got one of my girlfriends from the Cowboys, Kristen, on the phone, and her response wasn’t quite like anyone else’s.
“You know, I might have,” she said. “I don’t remember.”
Seriously?! You don’t remember if you signed me up to be a contestant on a national television show? Yeah, right. Someone’s busted. I found my culprit!
After that mystery was solved, I decided to delve further into the “application.” As I’ve probably established by this point, I would have done pretty much anything to make my workday go by quicker. As I started flipping through the application materials, I noticed there were twenty-four pages of questions, all targeted at me.
Wow. They could write a biography on someone with all of the information they wanted.
I figured it wouldn’t hurt to fill it out, since I wasn’t exactly doing anything with my life just then. Surely I wouldn’t make it. I’d just see how far I could go, just for fun. It gave me something new to
I had that empty pit in my gut, and I just wanted it to go away, and Tye was just ONE factor that contributed to that pit (albeit, a big factor). I was not happy with where my career was. I was not happy having a home I didn’t like going home to (because it reminded me of Tye). I was not happy that I didn’t have the Cowboys to keep me occupied, and most of my friends were still on the squad. And I was not happy being alone. Even though I was with my friends all of the time at this point, ironically, I felt more alone than I ever had. So I just wanted a change from everything. Not limited to—but definitely including—Tye.
I needed a BIG change: a change of scenery, a change of perspective, a change of direction in my life. I was itching to get out of Dodge. I didn’t want to be in Dallas anymore. I was thinking about relocating to Austin, and I visited there several times while contemplating whether or not the move would make me happy. I was thinking about going for my teacher’s certificate and becoming a teacher, and I still believe I will be a teacher someday. But I couldn’t bring myself to do anything.
And then, one day that summer, I checked my mail, and there was an application for the television dating show, The Bachelor. I was totally dumfounded. The opening letter read: “Thank you for applying to be a candidate on The Bachelor . . .”
What?? I never applied to be on anything. I wouldn’t even know how to go about doing that if I wanted to. What the heck?
Now, over the past six months, several of my girlfriends had joked that I should be on that popular television dating show The Bachelorette. They always told me that I had a lot of things going for me, and that I would absolutely get picked for the show. But I thought it was just my friends trying to cheer me up and make me feel better about myself. I certainly hadn’t taken them seriously. And I certainly hadn’t applied to be on any show.
I couldn’t figure out how the application came to me, but I also knew that it couldn’t have been completely random. It wasn’t like they just handed them out to people at the supermarket. The materials revealed no clues. They thanked me for my interest in becoming a contestant, and included instructions that asked me to complete the entire questionnaire as honestly as possible and mail it back by a certain deadline.
Hmmm . . .
I took the application to work the next day, sat with one of my colleagues who was also a good friend, and got my cell phone out. One by one, I called each of my friends and asked them if they had somehow nominated me to be on The Bachelor. Finally, I got one of my girlfriends from the Cowboys, Kristen, on the phone, and her response wasn’t quite like anyone else’s.
“You know, I might have,” she said. “I don’t remember.”
Seriously?! You don’t remember if you signed me up to be a contestant on a national television show? Yeah, right. Someone’s busted. I found my culprit!
After that mystery was solved, I decided to delve further into the “application.” As I’ve probably established by this point, I would have done pretty much anything to make my workday go by quicker. As I started flipping through the application materials, I noticed there were twenty-four pages of questions, all targeted at me.
Wow. They could write a biography on someone with all of the information they wanted.
I figured it wouldn’t hurt to fill it out, since I wasn’t exactly doing anything with my life just then. Surely I wouldn’t make it. I’d just see how far I could go, just for fun. It gave me something new to
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