I’ve Gotta Take Some Time Off to Be on the Bachelorette

I’m gonna be out of pocket for the foreseeable future.

Hi all,

Hope this email finds you well.

Me? I’m doing excellent. But in a bittersweet way. Because this is where I leave you. For now, anyway. Could be as little as a few days (fingers crossed that’s not the case, though). Or it could be forever, if I play my proverbial cards right and fate decides it’s time for me to finally fall into the kind of love that is actually equally reciprocated. (It’s tough to imagine this happening, ever, but I’m going to lead with optimism here.)

If that ends up being the case, I might never see any of you again — which is sad in a way, but frankly not to a debilitating degree. None of us are that close, are we? Though no matter how long I’m gone, I’ll miss some of you. Some of the time. Probably. But sometimes you have to take a leap, especially in pursuit of a lasting and meaningful connection (again, fingers crossed or whatever), and that can mean leaving some people behind.

This is my long-winded way of leading into what this message is all about:

I need to take some time off to go and be a contestant on the latest season of The Bachelorette.

And I assure you, I’m in it for all the right reasons.

That’s right. They chose me from amongst the endless sea of dudes who apply to vie for the affection of a single woman who has, for whatever reasons, been at least slightly unlucky when it comes to love.

What an opportunity, right? I can’t wait to show up at an undisclosed location to stay in a mansion with my competition and give it the ole’ college try re: winning the heart of Heidi, who you may recall from Zeke’s season, during which she made quite the splash. In my experience so far, it’s not often you encounter a woman who is not only willing to garner some attention by drunkenly cannonballing fully clothed into a swimming pool, but who does so with absolutely perfect form.

When I saw that, I was like, “Be still, my heart.” I think we can all agree that a perfectly executed cannonball is something of a lost art these days. It was a stunning and vaguely arousing display of reality television art, to say the very least. And when she surfaced and screamed “I shan’t be ignored, Zeke!” I found myself thinking that maybe she was The One, and then lamented the notion that she would be forever unattainable by the likes of me.

I briefly considered shooting for the stars via an eloquent DM slide, but something about that seemed uncouth. Especially when you add in the variable that I was a spoken-for man at the time. So cooler heads prevailed after I spent a couple hours trying to craft something witty to say that might stand out among the countless messages she was probably getting from admirers who hoped to become gentleman suitors. I gave up.

You all remember Wendy, right? My girlfriend? Who vomited in the photo booth at the company holiday party a couple months back? And may or may not have hit on someone from HR? She was the one who alerted me to the fact that Heidi would be The Bachelorette in the forthcoming season and, I thought jokingly, suggested that I send in an application for contestant consideration.

It seemed like less of a joke when I came home early from the office one afternoon to find her in bed with one of the dental hygienists she works with, who seemed to be thoroughly and diligently examining an orifice of hers that was not, dear reader, her mouth. She must have forgotten that we occasionally get to take advantage of Summer Fridays at this joint, because she was pretty surprised to see me.

I’m not saying plotting to slide into the DMs of a reality television show influencer — or whatever you want to call Heidi — while I was in a relationship is the most above-board move, but if we’re keeping score, I think her relationship infraction was at least a little bit worse.

Anyway, long story long, Wendy and I have split the sheets, and I am morally free to pursue what may just be my destiny.

Some of you may judge, and that’s fine. But truth be told, I’ve tried to find love in arguably more off-the-wall ways throughout my lackluster dating career. (For example, one time I approached a woman at a bar and attempted to strike up an in-person conversation. Like a true fucking maniac.) And they haven’t worked out too swimmingly, obviously. So I guess I’ll try something new.

Here’s hoping management approves my unquantified time off. And that I’ll be able to keep my health insurance during my leave of absence. (I maybe should have given more thought to the logistical side of things, but hey, buy the ticket, take the ride.) Also that I won’t have my heart unceremoniously ripped out of my chest on national television — though it’s not lost on me that having this happen could be potentially parlayed into a pseudo career where I appear every now and then on Bachelor in Paradise, which wouldn’t be such a terrible consolation prize.

Anyway, keep fighting the good fight. Don’t forget to set your DVRs. And have some fun out there.