I Didn't Come Here to Make Friends by Courtney Robertson

joojed up and petrified with a can of hair spray—I sat in my room waiting anxiously for the sun to go down. I drank a glass of red wine and ate a salmon salad. I wanted to be full because I knew it was going to be a long night. To kill time, I watched a wedding in the courtyard and practiced what I was going to say to Ben. After writing a bunch of one-liners down in my journal, I scratched them out, worried that I’d look like a nerd if I said any of them. I decided to go with a simple, “Hi, my name is Courtney” and then wing it from there.
    By 7:00 P.M. I was so mind-numbingly bored and restless, it was a miracle to be escorted down to the lobby, where I finally met my limo mates, three grown women all dressed like they were going to senior prom and wearing enough makeup to rival the stars of RuPaul’s Drag Race . I was the only brunette and the only one not hammered already. The very first girl I met was Monica Spannbauer, a loud, brassy blonde with an incredibly annoying laugh. She was actually snorting. The other two girls in my limo were the unbelievably named Amber Bacon and Anna Snowball. One was a maternity nurse, the other was, well, I forgot. Neither of these women made it past the first night.
    Despite an immediate disdain for them, I was ready to throw myself into this experience headfirst. I couldn’t wait to get into that limo and head to the legendary mansion. I couldn’t wait to meet my man.
    As we drove slowly through Malibu, Monica, Bacon, and Anna Snowball all pounded champagne, “woo’d” at the top of their lungs, and toasted Ben. “Benny boo boo … boo boo boo!” they screamed, referencing the chick flick How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days . I looked to the lone producer in the car for help, but he just shrugged. Surrendering to the madness, I poured a glass of champagne, even though I don’t like it much, and threw in a few “woos” myself.
    When the limo pulled up to the mansion, one of the girls shouted out, “Oh my God, it is Ben!”
    Duh.
    I was done paying attention to the other women. There he was, standing there alone, looking so handsome and tall—enough. (My biggest fear was that he’d be shorter than me.) As soon as I saw Ben I wanted him. I could see that his hands were clenched, a sign of nerves, and my nurturing side immediately kicked in. I also had major butterflies; I wondered if going last was a huge mistake. He already looked exhausted. And had he already met someone he really liked? I’d have to wait until these buffoons stumbled out of the limo before I could suss it out.
    Monica, wearing a long purple gown, was up first. She was a total dud. She said she missed her dog. And that was the highlight.
    Anna Snowball—I’m sorry, she has the kind of name where you always have to call her the whole thing—was so smashed she walked right past Ben trying to be all sexy and mysterious. But she just looked lost.
    Of the three, Amber had the most personality. I didn’t say it was a good personality. She told Ben she was the “Baconator” and asked him if he wanted a taste. He kissed her hand and told her she was delicious. I had a hard time watching this go down because I was already uncomfortable with the idea of any other women touching or kissing Ben.
    Finally, it was my turn. I got out of the limo as gracefully as possible and locked eyes with Ben. There were instant sparks.
    “Hey, cutie pie,” I said as I walked over, completely forgetting my script and remembering not to hunch my shoulders. “You come here often?”
    Ben was smiling from ear to ear and I gave him a hug. “I watched last season and I have to admit I have the biggest crush on you.”
    “Thanks,” he said bashfully.
    “I love your hair,” I said, reaching out to push it out of his eyes. “I’m a hair girl.”
    “Is that what you do for a living?”
    “No, I’m a model.”
    “Oh, nice,” he said. (Lie #1: Ben did not think it was nice, but all in good time.)
    There was actually more to