In early July, I got a random call from Los Angeles and excitedly got ready to annoy a telemarketer. Only, the man on the other line was not Indian; instead, he was a producer for the Bachelor. It’s every girls dream to be considered for the Bachelor and surrounded by the romance of fake-reality. But I would never be able to be on the bachelor. I’m way too filtered for reality television. Producers would have a field-day with my honestly and I’m way too unfiltered to have cameras in my face.
But there was no harm in getting my ego stroked and I answered all of his questions in true Roberta fashion. For example, when he asked if I was ready to get married I told him the truth, “My greatest fear in life is never getting married.”
I own my feelings. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’d rather die than be thirty-five and single. How embarrassing, settle already. Juanita disagrees, but she comes from a broken home (divorce) which means her understanding of “happily ever after” is very tainted. “Do you have any children,” came the next question. “No but I’m giving some eggs to my gay friend and his dog walker.” He didn’t respond and I really didn’t feel like explaining my crazy.
After some back and forth and the producers realizing what a gold-mine I’d be for their ratings, I had to let the dream of being a reality-TV star go. The world isn’t ready for Roberta.