It's Not Okay: Turning Heartbreak into Happily Never After by Andi Dorfman Page A

Dominican Republic, where the rum was flowing and the sexual tensions were blowing the ozone layer off the Caribbean sky. In other words, it was the time where every girl finds herself ready to pull the car over, pop the hood, check out the engine, and examine the dipstick. And I was no different. I had spent days preparing for this moment. I did extra crunches in the gym, I shaved my legs, and I even got the unbearable but necessary Brazilian wax. The physical part of the preparation, albeit painful, was considerably easier than the mental part. The thought of bedding three different men in a period of ten days didn’t sit well with me. I was never, nor did I intend to start being, the girl who recklessly threw around her vagina simply for the thrill of it.
    Luckily for me, it was really down to only two men at that point, a number that was much easier to justify. The real competition was between Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six, both of whom had long been the front-runners, with Twenty-Six slightly in the lead. I liked them both, but their pronounced differences left me puzzled as to who would be the right man for me.
    Number Twenty-Five seemed like the intellectual type; he came off as more polished and profound, there was a depth to his words. He was transparent in his emotions, leaving no doubt as to where I stood, thus making him a safe bet. But there was excitement, too, when it came to him and the big city life he lived. He made me feel desired, he made me feel sexy, and he made me feel like a grown-ass woman. And to top it off, he had a secret weapon hidden behind his kisses that included him tenderly placing one hand on the side of my face while he ever so coyly slid his other hand around my rib cage and firmly pressed in, sending tingles through my entire body. It was as if he had discovered the above-the-belt G-spot, and I was dying to see what else he could discover.
    Number Twenty-Six was definitely rougher around the edges yet charming, charismatic, and possessed the unique ability to make an uptight woman like myself feel like a young teenager in love. His kisses were nothing short of steamy, and he didn’t have to stroke my rib cage to indulge my body with the same tantalizing tingles. There was a comfort between us that made me feel as though I’d known him all my life, and better yet it was accompanied by the spark I’d been waiting for all my life. But despite the comfort, he was anything but safe. With the thrills came a looming dark cloud that I feared would create a torrential downpour at any moment. I had seen his temper during our fight in Italy and I wondered what he would be like without the cameras—would he bring up the lie detector test again or, even worse, other problems that he had been hiding? Had I let the strength of my feelings build him up into something he wasn’t only for it to come crashing down in one night? At times, I found myself putting all my eggs in Number Twenty-Six’s basket, with no certainty that the risk would pay off. He was my type, which hadn’t worked out so well in the past, and I wondered if he would follow in the footsteps of my past lovers. And though I didn’t know, I was damn sure going to find out.
    With a million emotions swirling in my head, from fear to anticipation to pure giddiness, it was time for the most important week of dates to begin. First up, Number Twenty-Five. He met me at an airport with a helicopter fueled up and ready to go. Though I hadn’t seen him for days, the passionate kiss he immediately placed on my lips brought me right back to him. It was only a matter of time before those kisses would turn into more, and we both knew it, but first we had to get through the actual on-camera portion of the date. After a romantic chopper ride across the island, we landed on our own private island and enjoyed a day filled with sipping champagne and frolicking (and kissing) in the ocean. Rough life, huh? Seeing him shirtless on the white sand with the