Revenge of the Bachelorette by Maggie W.

Going into this, I knew I was going to find love. I was positive and optimistic that I was going to hunt down a husband that loved me for who I am, and all that I can give. Not a lot of women are as fortunate as I, because of my stunning good looks, cunning intelligence, and killer personality. So naturally, I nominated myself to take a chance and find a partner who I can spend the rest of my life with on my favorite show “The Bachelor”.

The second I stepped out of the limo and saw the Bachelor, Chett, I knew it was love at first sight. He had muscles the size of my Louis Vuittons, and a jawline as sharp as my finger-nail extensions. Making sure he noticed my curvaceous figure, I walked up to him, flipped my gorgeous blonde hair and said with the utmost confidence and poise, “Hello, my name is Ocean, and when this show is over, I am going to be your wife.”

Eating ice (due to the lack of calories), and meeting the other unworthy ladies, took up my night leading into the first rose ceremony. Now with the women shifting nervously in their spots, and hoping to receive a rose, I stand here surrounded, ready to continue on my journey of love. Receiving a rose will give me the reassurance that we do have an instant chemistry and spark between us. I know it’s only the first night, but I feel as though I’m in love. I’ve only felt this way 11 other times on the first date, but this time it’s real, and I know it.

Staring at his gorgeous green eyes, golden brown hair, and tall stature makes me yearn deeply for his affection. I tell myself: Ocean you can do this. Do not let your Botox fail you now. You are a strong woman that uses the bountiful resources of Daddy’s money to afford your designer clothes. Now, stand tall and remember, just like Daddy tells you, you are as beautiful as the ocean.

He calls the first girl up, “Brittney, will you accept my rose?”

“Of course!” she says, spastically fluttering her false eyelashes, in pathetic hopes of winning his devotion. She picks up her dress, flaunting her sub-par legs, and struts down to meet Chett. As she returns to her spot, Chett begins again in his deep, provocative voice,

“Charice, will you accept this rose?” Giddily, she too steps down from the risers in her cheap-looking ball gown. “Oh my gosh! Of course I accept!” She takes the rose and bear-hugs Chett, for an aggravatingly long amount of time.

I whisper over to the girl on my left, careful no one else can hear, “Can you believe it? Chett just gave handed out a rose to a girl wearing faux fur! Where I come from, if I dressed like that, even my servants would look down upon me!”

Because we are running out of roses, I start to really turn on my sparkle. He keeps naming off more girls “Charlene...Kimberly...Crystal...Michelle…” and they keep accepting with their fake laughs, and high pitched tweety-bird shrieks. I know I simply cannot doubt our connection. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching this show for over 16 years, it’s that that is the first mistake. I exert as much of “Ocean’s sparkle” as I can, focusing on making sure my hair has the perfect amount of poof. I look over at the table and see the last rose sitting there basically crying out Ocean! Ocean! Come get me! “I’m coming baby don’t you worry…”📷

“Excuse me?” says Chett.

“Uh, what? I’m sorry” I mumble. I feel my face getting red hot, but reassure myself, I have artificial blush on, so no one can see. I shake my head slightly, embarrassed I just said that outloud. This is it. The last rose...It could be mine. It should be mine. It WILL be mine. Finally, the moment I’ve waited my entire life for has come. “Paula, will you accept this rose?”

As though in slow-motion, my world crumbles into ashes. This is no doubt, the absolutely worst moment of my life. Worse than the time when I cut my bestfriends fingers off in a meat grinder. Worse than when my Daddy told me that my valet totalled my Porsche. My heart is shattering into a million pieces and nothing can mend them back together. I just don’t understand why Chett doesn’t feel the same emotions about me, that I do towards him. You never know what true heartbreak feels like until you've met a guy for a few hours, and then on national television he rips out your heart, shoves it into a panini press, and just for good measure sticks it outside where vultures pick at it for hours.

Aghast, I stumble down from the risers, tears streaming down my face. I never thought that a man could take control of my life so early on in our relationship, but it can happen, and it did happen! I believed that it was true love, and it ended less than 3 hours after it had begun. I walked over to Chett, trying to stifle my blubbering, “Goodbye, I will always love you.”

“Goodbye...uh...what’s your name again?”

I don’t even bother answering, because if he’s someone who I dearly love, and does not even remember my name, why should I let him get the satisfaction of learning it? Sobbing, I run and drag my luggage down the mansions steps and into the limousine that is awaiting my departure. I slam the door behind me after I clamber into the back of the limo.

“Hey there miss, my name is Gustavo, and I will be escorting you to the airport. If you need anything just give me a shout,” the driver explains in a thick Italian accent.

I simply cannot answer because there is no use trying to suppress all the noises and outbursts, my heartsick body is unloading. I start to think about all the adventures that me and Chett could have gone on: getting our nails done at a spa in Aruba, buying tickets to fashion week in New York City... things that we would both enjoy doing together. Just the thought of love and adventure soothes me to a point where I only choke on my despair every few minutes or so. Looking back at all those things I said before about paninis, and vultures, I didn’t mean it! It was in the heat of the moment, that I felt crippled and broken, but now, realizing the potential our relationship had, I know I have to go back to get my man!

“Wait! Stop the car!” I shriek. The brakes screech to a halt, and I lurch forward. Without waiting for Gustavo to ask questions, I burst through the door and sprint out.

With one goal in mind, I race back to the mansion. By now, all the ladies are sleeping in their beds or preparing for the exhausting week filled with dates, drinks, and dumps. I know I’m supposed to be the one that lives happily ever after with Chett, and winning his affection is easy. It’s the execution that is going to be difficult.

I slink into the house, taking off my Gucci pumps to ensure silence. Like an elegant ninja, I lurk through the shadows. I hear a blowdryer in the distance, and smell Chanel perfume lingering in the air. Just as I place my hand on the railing of the front staircase, a voice calls from behind me, “Ocean? Sweetie, why are you still here? I’m sorry but you were eliminated! It's time for you to leave.” I turn around and see the face of my enemy, a dirty blonde from Indiana. Of course...it’s Paula.

“Shut up Paula! You don’t understand! That rose that you stole was mine! And I intend to take it back, along with everything else that belongs to me!”

“Oh! You mean this rose?” She dangles the flower right in front of her face, smirking in a way that makes her rosy, fat, cheeks even fatter. Pure hatred boils up inside of me and all of a sudden I can’t control myself. My thirst for revenge is strong as I leap at her plump five-foot frame, and tackle her to the ground. Scratching at her face, and clutching clumps of her hair, we roll around like tumbleweeds in the desert. With outbursts of wails and shrieks, I thrust myself at her, backing her into a corner. I rip the rose from her grasp and begin to whack her with it, just as she, in return, claws at my scalp. All of a sudden, a sharp pain erupts from my head.

That morning, I had made sure it was completely disguised, so no one could ever notice it. It is my only struggle with self-confidence that I’d ever had. I’m talking EVER. I am probably the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life, but this is my ultimate downfall. It was...my weave. Paula just snatched my weave. “You…” I charge at her with all my might, at this point, there is nothing I can’t do. Roaring, I bodyslam her into the wall on the other side of the room. She hits it with a hard thud and slides down into a crouched position, head slumped on her neck, eyes closed. “That’s for taking my rose, you four-toothed rat! ” I proudly walk toward her in victory, but realize I don’t have much time before the other bachelorettes decide to put down their curling irons, and check out what all the commotion was about.

I turn and race up the stairs, towards Chett’s suite. Since I studied his itinerary for three hours before I came onto the show, I know that he should be sleeping by now, getting ready for tomorrow, a day of dates and interviews. But, little does he know the epic adventure that awaits.

Upstairs, I walk down the long hallway. I know it like the back of my hand: one left, one right, third door on my left. I turn the knob, and quietly walk in. To take all of him in, I loom over his body, looking at the angel that sleeps before me. I realize I did have quite an episode back in the limousine, but I still do have feelings for him. His defined abs, perfect hair, untamed scruff, and kitten snores, are just some of the things that I love about him. Feeling the pull between our two bodies, I dig to find something that I can tie his limbs together with. Then, I see it, his red necktie, sitting atop his opened suitcase.

My Daddy taught me how to tie a tie when I was 5 years old, going on my first date to a steakhouse downtown. He claimed it was a critical aspect in a young women, to be able to take care of her husband and do all the things he is too busy and important to do himself. He was truly an amazing, one-of-a kind father. While all the other girls my age were off going to ballet classes and watching Barbie movies, my Daddy instructed me how to teach a servant who’s boss, and remind them who pays their salaries.

“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, but it’s the only way I can get you to myself,” I explain to the sleeping Chett as I tightly secure the premium silk necktie around his wrists. Next, I take his shower towel off the floor. Sniffing it profusely to inhale his masculine scent, I quickly open his mouth and shove it in. He frantically jolts awake, with panic in his eyes. He tries to speak, but I can hardly make out any words, and judging from his facial expression, they cannot be nice.

“Shhh baby, don’t worry, I will take great care of you. You made a mistake sending me home, but I forgive you, and I know that one day you will feel the same love I feel for you. That’s why I intend to stay with you everyday, until I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me again. But we can’t do that here, so you’re coming with me.” 📷

Unrecognizable grunts escape from his mouth, making it hard to understand whether or not he is excited to run away with the woman of his dreams, but he has to be...right?

I run over to the window and pull down the whole curtain rod. After sliding off the drapes I take the rod and walk over to Chett. “This is only going to hurt for a minute, I promise shnookums.” Instantly he replies with noises of fright and refusal, but I toss my arms over my head and bring the metal rod down on his skull. Out like a light, I heave his groggy butt out of bed and toss his long, muscular torso like a rag-doll over my shoulder. Before I triumphantly walk out the door after dragging his sagging body down the stairs, I stop to pick up my pumps. My accomplice, Gustavo, still waiting outside for me, gets the limo ready so we can make our grand escape.

Impressed with my upper-body strength, he opens the door for me. “Where to now, miss?” Gustavo asks in his strong accent.

“Take Chett and me to our happily ever after, please.” And with that we drove away. Chett passed out in the back, Gustavo driving the getaway car, and me, leading the way, guns blazing, into our happily ever after.