I wandered back into the main gathering room just in time for the show's host to come out and introduce himself.

"Hello, ladies," he said. "I'm Benjamin, and I will be your host throughout the next six weeks." Benjamin looked slightly odd to me. Aside from the fact that he was wearing enormous sunglasses in the house, at night, his skin also looked somewhat tan. Not a natural tan, but the kind you see when college girls from the Northern Alaska get ready for spring break in Acapulco. Kind of an orangey, fake tan.

"Welcome to the brand new season of the Most Eligible Bachelor," he said enthusiastically. "And the brand new name of course, The World's Most Eligible Bachelor. I'm sure you have all noticed by now that there are women here from all over the globe. Everyone speaks English, but if you happen to know a little French, Spanish, or maybe some Russian, you can practice it here. You may have noticed we started out the evening differently this time. In the past, when the women arrived, the bachelor was waiting to meet them for the first time in the front garden. Obviously that didn't happen this time, and there's a good reason for it. The bachelor wants some time to get to know each of you, but you won't necessarily know who he is right away." 

This caused a good deal of commotion among the women. It did seem confusing; how would we get to know him without knowing who he was? Maybe I was right about that waiter guy. Or maybe this Benjamin guy was the real bachelor, painted orange so we didn't recognize him. 

"Okay, ladies, calm down and let me explain. The bachelor isn't exactly here yet. In fact, you won't meet him face to face until tomorrow."

"What?" A collective groan came from the group of women who were intoxicated to various extents, all of whom were losing their patience. Cameras were rolling from every angle.

"This was planned as well," Benjamin continued. "He is in fact in a very nearby location. We have a computer set up in this side room over here," he said, motioning to a door behind him. Each of you will get a few minutes inside, where the bachelor will interview you over video chat. His voice will be altered and you won't see his face. That way, he can have his few minutes to get acquainted with you before he meets you all in person, which will happen tomorrow morning."

With that, many women began to whine that they got all dressed up for nothing and that they had no idea what they would wear in the morning. Others were grumbling that it wasn't fair if he got to see them and we didn't get to see his face. It made sense to me - it would even the playing field for him a little since the bachelor was usually caught in a flood of women he'd never met, while all of them had seen pictures and bios of him for weeks before the show started. 

When the women dispersed, most went straight to an alcohol-bearing waiter. The first woman was called into the video room and the rest watched in curiosity

A girl came up to me and introduced herself to me. "Hi, I'm Demi." I had actually caught sight of her earlier because she was...well, first of all, she had blue hair, so it wasn't hard to notice her. Aside from that, she was kind of plain. And she was dressed like a 1980's prom queen .

"Hello, Demi, I'm Harper." I shook her hand and gave her a wide smile. She smiled back and I cringed a little at her yellow teeth. I noticed a cameraman moving in to capture our conversation. Was this a set up? Did they want to see how I would respond to someone so...unusual?

Now here's where you will discover an odd little quirk about me. I'm obsessed with colors, specifically names and shades of colors. It's sort of a compulsion - in a mentally sound way, of course - to identify the exact shade and type of color. Maybe that was another thing that drove me into advertising since the right color can make or break a logo. 

So, as I studied Demi's dress, I was at somewhat of a loss for words; color words that is. The entire v-necked bodice was covered in blue sequins, midnight blue to be exact. Honestly, the bodice, by itself wasn't much different than the one I was wearing. A swath of fabric rounded her hips at an angle and was secured by an overly large rosette. I would have to name that whole contraption cornflower blue. The skirt of the dress was a lighter blue yet, perhaps a Carolina blue, but the most interesting thing about it was that I could have sworn it was made out of  upholstery fabric. The sleeves were the most ridiculous part of the ensemble - they, too, were gigantic rosettes that matched the one on her sash, that seemed to stand straight up, almost brushing her ears. The most painful part was that none of the blues worked well together. There could only be one explanation for this monstrosity - it had to have been sewn by her elderly, colorblind grandmother, from the scraps of her ancestor's clothing, in 1984.

"How are you?" Demi asked after my extended awkward silence.

"Oh, fine," I said, blinking away the blue nightmare. "I was just noticing your dress is so...unique." 

"Thanks," she said with a big smile. I mean, a very large and overly happy smile. "My mom made it for me." 

"Ah, it's lovely," I commented, hoping to end my conversation with the awkward girl.  I didn't consider myself to be a judgmental person, but it was pretty clear that Demi was out of place, or at the very least, she had no idea that the 20th century was over. I had no idea how she got accepted into the show as a contestant because she clearly wasn't the kind of woman they would normally choose.

"The others aren't talking to me," she said sadly. I had to bite my tongue to not make a sarcastic comment about how much she sounded like an middle school girl at her first dance.

"I'm sure they're just nervous," I said with a reassuring smile. "You can hang with me. I'm not a big fan of crowds, so just having one person to talk to is nice." Why? Why did I just say that?

She grinned gratefully.

After a while, Demi and I sat down and made ourselves comfortable on one of the luxurious sofas. A short man in a tuxedo came over with a tray of drinks and offered one to each of us sitting on the couch. He wasn't the cutie-pie I'd seen earlier. Where had that one gone? I wanted to keep an eye on him. 

Have you ever played that game at a bridal or baby shower, where the host puts several things on a tray and has someone walk around with it, telling people they have two minutes to look at it? Then, when they took the tray away, they would ask you something about the person who was carrying it rather than the items on the tray. At that point, the person in question would be hiding so you couldn't cheat and take a look at them to answer the question. I honestly felt like that might be happening to us, that our beloved bachelor might be hiding in plain sight. 

The other women took their pick of drinks from the silver tray, but when the waiter came to me, he lost his grip and the drinks came cascading down into my lap. The girls around me shrieked and stood up, sending champagne and glass flying everywhere. I sat glued to the spot, the frigid liquid seeping through my thin pants.

I noticed a camera about five inches from my face while the waiter began to apologize profusely. I waved him off, saying, "Please, it's no big deal. It could happen to anyone. I'm fine really."

He rushed off to get some towels and came back and began blotting the drinks off of my clothing.

"Ralph," I said, reading the man's name tag. "It's okay, I can get it. And please, don't even worry about it." I really wasn't upset, but he was acting like he was going to be whipped for this understandable accident.

It wasn't very long before that shrew of a woman, Dove, was shrieking at the top of her lungs, "Look what you did, you imbecile!" And you guessed it, the camera that had been practically shoved up my nose was now in her face.

Another waiter had bumped her ever so slightly, causing her to smear a small amount of some kind of dip onto her dress. It was minuscule compared to the drinks that had showered into my lap moments earlier, but she was acting as if the guy had sexually assaulted her with the way that she was screaming at him.

I walked over and dabbed the tiny smidgeon of dip off her dress and then I said, "Accidents happen, Dove. Lighten up a little."

I started walking away and I heard her sneer, "How dare you touch me. Don't you tell me to lighten up. That man was careless and rude, and now this dress is ruined. And it's a Valentino!"

I turned back and walked up to her, standing only a few inches in front of her face. "Something tells me you can afford another one. So, like I said, lighten up." 

Everyone in the room let out a relieved sigh as I walked away. If they were expecting a cat fight, they weren't going to get it from me.  I refused to stoop to her level or to play her silly mind games, trying to make everyone else feel inferior.

I met several more women throughout the evening - Jacqueline and Logan were both from the US and they had spent most of the evening joined at the hip. Phoebe was from Australia, and a woman named Valerie looked like a European beauty, but she was actually from the Philippines. Our conversations were short and sweet - Hi, how are you, how did you decide to come on the show? Etc.

I approached another group of women, seeing Brittany was chatting with them. She introduced me to Hanan, whom I'd met earlier, Olivia from Sweden, and Natalia from Russia. Olivia and Natalia could have easily been models for Victoria's Secret. I asked the others, "So what do you do for a living?" Hanan told us she was an administrator for a hospital, Natalia was a hairdresser, and Olivia told us she was a chef in a well known restaurant. Maybe I had a little too much to drink because when I remembered she was from Sweden, I burst out laughing, "You're the Swedish Chef!"

Apparently, she didn't find it funny because she just walked away. The others scattered as well, but Brittany laughed with me a little. "I'm glad you appreciate my sense of humor," I told her.

"I'm so drunk," she responded. "You have to hold me up." I dragged her over to a couch and got her a bottle of water. 

"Drink this," I demanded. 

I sat down next to her and noticed a young girl I hadn't seen before, sitting in the chair opposite from me. She looked really young, as in too young to be here. She had gorgeous, long tendrils of chestnut hair flowing thickly over her shoulders and down her back. With stunning confidence, she wore a unique sequined dress that made it look like she stepped right out of the roaring 20's.

"Hi, I'm Harper," I said. "And this is Brittany."

Brittany waved and then leaned her head back against the couch.

"I'm Joy," she smiled.

"Have you been here the whole time?" I asked. "I guess I haven't met everyone yet."

"Yeah, I've been here," she replied, smiling. "I saw you earlier. I'm kind of a people watcher, so I haven't met many of the others yet."

"Where are you from, Joy?"

"Michigan," she smiled. "Lansing."

"Cool, I've never been to Michigan," I told her. "Are you a college student?" I asked, trying to get some information about her age.

"Um, yeah. Second year at Michigan State," she said. She was nervous, but I didn't know whether she was lying to me or if she was just nervous in general.

"Well, good luck," I said, walking away to find that cute waiter. Another drink might not be a bad idea.

The women who were coming out of the video room shared little snippets of their conversation with the bachelor. It made him seem a little more real, like this wasn't just some big hoax.

When it was my turn, I sat down in the darkened room in front of the computer. It was light enough that I could see my face in the corner of the screen. He was behind another screen in the room where he sat, and a light behind that illuminated his silhouette. His voice was changed as well, as Benjamin had said it would be.

"Hello," the faceless voice said.

"Hi," I smiled. "I'm Harper.

"Hello, Harper. How's it going so far?"

"Umm, it's...bizarre, let's put it that way."

"Bizarre. Really?" He laughed.

"Right, this isn't my normal vacation," I said, biting my lip. "You know, in a mansion, with 29 beautiful women from around the world. The odds aren't exactly in my favor."

He shouted with laughter, and I wished I could hear his real laugh, without digital interference.

"Well, I thought it might be nice to talk a little before you know who I really am," he explained.

"What does that mean? Are you some big scary ogre and you want us to fall in love with you before we see your hideous face?"

"Not quite," he laughed again. "Or maybe you'll think I'm scary and ugly. Who knows? My first question is how did you decide to apply for the show?"

"Ohhh, that's an interesting story," I said, biting my lip mischievously. "Do you want to hear the truth, or should I make up something more interesting?"

"Well, now you have me curious. You have to tell me the real story."

"Okay, well, no offense," I began. "I didn't really want to be here. My best friend forced me to submit an application, and I got through, so here I am." 

"That must be some friend," he remarked. "How exactly did force you to do it?"

"She asked me to do it as her gift for her 25th birthday. She's kind of eccentric," I said with a shrug. "But just so you know, I'm happy to be here now. I think it will be an adventure."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "I've got a few more questions to ask." I nodded eagerly. "If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"I think I'd live right here in this mansion!" I giggled, which I found strange since I wasn't really a giggler. That was Allegra's department. "I haven't thought much about it, actually. I like where I am in Sacramento. It's a pretty decent location, it's not far to drive to a lot of interesting hot spots."

"What's your highest aspiration?"

"No pressure, right?" I asked, shaking my head. "That's a loaded question. I would say, career-wise, it would be to become an executive at my ad agency. Or maybe even own my own company. Other than that, I guess I just want to make a difference in the world, you know?" I shook my head again. "Sorry, that's so cliché."

"No, no, it's great," he assured me. I heard a timer ding. "Oh, that means it's been five minutes; crazy, right? Let me just ask you a few more questions, if you don't mind."

"Shoot."

"What would you do with the money if you won the lottery?" He asked.

"Don't we all wish that would happen to us?" I said. "I'd make sure my dad was set for life – new car, nice house, mortgage paid off. He worked really hard to provide for me and he's all I've got so I owe it to him to take care of him as he gets older. Then, I don't know. I guess I'd want a nice place for myself. Like this mansion!" I said, giggling again. "But seriously, I don't think I'd be able to spend it all on myself. I don't think I need that much of anything. Probably give some to a charity and then invest the rest for college, if I have kids, or retirement."

"Are you a homebody or do you like to travel?"

"Travel."

"Cats or dogs?"

"Dogs."

"What's your favorite style of music?"

"Classic rock, all the way."

"Nice. Do you have a nickname?"

"Yes."

"Well, what is it?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Dimples," I said, pointing to the indents in my face when I smiled. "But only my dad calls me that."

"That's adorable. Favorite food?"

"Nachos!"

"Favorite movie?"

"Ten Things I Hate About You."

"Do you believe in angels?"

"Umm, I guess so," I answered.

"What's your favorite book from when you were a child?"

"It's a toss up," I answered. "I loved A Three Hat Day and Where the Wild Things Are."

"Never heard of the first one," he said, and I swore I could hear a smile in his voice.

"What does OTRA stand for?"

"I have no idea," I said.

"And one final question. If you were famous, what do you think you would dislike the most about it?"

"That's another hard one. I guess I would hate for my life to be so open to the public, having everything I do scrutinized by people who have no business telling me how to live my life."

"I'm sorry to cut this short, Harper, but I've got to keep meeting my guests."

"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow."

Then he did something that I didn't expect. He turned off the voice changer and spoke in what I assumed was his normal voice. "It was a pleasure to talk to you, Harper. I'm looking forward to meeting you tomorrow." The sound was deep and melodic, and he had a British accent. The way his words melted into the room, I was thoroughly and blissfully surprised. No fair - no one told me the bachelor would be from England. Maybe that's one area where I tended toward the cliché, but British accents just made me weak.

"You too," I said as my throat went dry. 

I was rather dumbfounded when I left the room. I had no idea if he'd done that for anyone else, so I didn't say a word. I just floated through the room til Brittany stopped me.

"Are you okay, Harper?" She asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No," I smiled lazily. "Not a ghost. I just had my interview. But you look like a ghost. We should get you to bed." 

"I don't sleep with anyone on the first date," she giggled. 

"Neither do I," I said, laughing at her drunken state.

"Isn't he fantastic?" She sighed dreamily, leaning against the elevator door. "I can't wait to meet him." 

"Neither can I." 

____

What do you think so far? :D xoxo