I Said Yes: My Story of Heartbreak, Redemption, and True Love by Emily Maynard Johnson Page B

didn’t have this overwhelming sense of “Oh my goodness! I definitely want to be on the show,” but I also wasn’t totally opposed to the idea, as I had been at first. I also wondered how Ricki would fit into the picture, my biggest concern, and what my parents would think if by some strange collision of fate and chance I actually ended up on The Bachelor . Thankfully, before I had the chance to worry away the next few hours, I dozed off.
    A few days later I received an e-mail from the show. “Congratulations, Emily. You’ve been chosen to be on season 15 of The Bachelor .” Wow! Talk about a surreal moment! But I hadn’t yet made a decision. I let the e-mail sit for days, unanswered. Then came the barrage of phone calls from producers. My mind spun in nauseating circles. This was all happening too fast for my comfort. By the time I got the guts to call someone back, I repeated my previous response of thanks but no thanks. I wasn’t comfortable enough to say yes, and besides, no one, other than Nikki, seemed to think it was a good idea.
    When Mom and I had a heart-to-heart about the opportunity, she wasn’t as excited about the opportunity as I would have liked. She had recently watched an episode of The Bachelor Pad , and under no circumstances would she support her daughter partying, carrying on, and disrespecting herself on national TV. “Please, Emily. Don’t do it,” Mom begged. “They’re going to eat you alive.” She was being protective, a natural instinct for any mother. Who “they” were, I didn’t know. The other girls? The media? The American public? All the above?
    When a producer called one night trying to convince me to do the show, I purged all my fears on him. “How could I leave Ricki? What if I get portrayed terribly? And is the whole show even real? It doesn’t have a positive track record!”
    “I’ll tell you what, Emily,” the producer said. “Just say yes and come meet the guy.”
    I replied, “But say I think the guy is a total jerk or just not for me. Then you’ll probably work your editing magic and make me out to be some lunatic.”
    He laughed. “I promise you, Emily, we won’t. But I also promise you, you’re gonna like the guy.” Something in his voice seemed reassuring.
    And so, a week before filming, the end of October 2010, I finally agreed to do the show. At the tail end of the nonstop worrying, pondering, and questioning lay two big words: Why not? Maybe, just maybe—and I’m telling you at the time I was convinced of this—God planned for me to meet my husband this way. True, it was unconventional. And a little strange. But my life had been pretty unusual up to this point, so what was the difference? Though Mom was disappointed, she was quick to get on board and agreed to watch Ricki for me. I didn’t know exactly how long I’d be gone, but Mom graciously blocked out her schedule for the full two months, just in case.
    My yes required signing my life away, so it seemed, in a contract thicker than my real-estate textbooks. I was sworn to secrecy starting the moment my signature was on the page until a certain time well after the show would air. I was not to have contact with the outside world during filming, which meant no phone calls to anyone—not family, friends, or media—and no access to the Internet or e-mail. I couldn’t share details about the show or the filming process with anyone. I was basically enclosed in a bubble for the next few months. ABC was very accommodating, however, considering my single-mom status and my earlier hesitance to do the show. The network made allowances for me to call and check in with Ricki on a daily basis. I wouldn’t have done the show without that exception, so thank you again, ABC!
    The contract was accompanied by a vague packing list. The list was so ambiguous I needed help—and fast.
    I enlisted the keen eyes of my fashionista buddies and turned my guest bedroom into a packing room. While Ricki slept, Nikki