Page 2 of The Reality of Wanting Him

“So as long as I get married in the next two years, you won’t cut me off?” I confirm, needing to make sure before I invest time into trying for more than my usual one-night stands.

“We just want you to have a full life, son,” my father finally chimes in. “Find someone to share it with. I know I found my true purpose after I met your mother and had you kids. I want you to find that, too,” he says softly, patting my hand. I give him a small smile because I know he’s always wanted what’s best for me, even if he wasn’t around much to show it, and that means he truly believes this is a good idea.

Fuck, maybe he’s right. Just because I haven’t considered settling down before doesn’t mean I hate the idea of sharing my life with another person. Regular sex and always having someone to hang out with sounds like a good time. I can change my bachelor ways if it means keeping my expensive way of life. I can’t imagine what I would even do if I needed to get a real job. I have a business degree, but I was so focused on football back then that I barely remember anything I learned in college. Not to mention, I have zero work experience.

Maybe Sandra from last night would want to go on a date?Fuck, I didn’t actually get her number, and I honestly can’t evenremember her name, just that it started with an S… I think.Shit, what is wrong with me?Why can’t I remember something as important as people’s names?Plus, it would be super embarrassing to show up at her house again after I gave her the whole “I don’t do repeats” speech multiple times.

Okay, it’ll be fine. No need to panic. The next time I’m interested in hooking up with a girl, I’ll try actually dating her instead. It’s not like I’m incapable of dating; I’ve just never had any motivation to try. Even with my clear expectations, it wasn’t like Samantha was the first woman who asked to see me again after we hooked up.

If I just put in some effort and actually try, it should be easy. I get along with everyone, and I bet I’ll find a girl who’s also looking to settle down and be engaged in the next six months. I probably won’t even need the two years they’re giving me. It can’t bethathard to find a girlfriend.

Right?

1

BLAKE

Sixteen Months Later

“So, how was the date last night?” Chad asks as he looks over the menu at the new taco place we’re trying.

“Awful. She looked nothing like her profile pictures, and all she wanted to talk about was celebrity gossip. Every time I tried to ask about her life, she would give super short answers, and she couldn’t stay off her phone,” I say with a sigh, trying not to remember the latest in my long list of failed dating attempts.

“What are you going to do? You only have eight months left to get married,” he points out,like I’m not hyperaware of that fact.

“Chad, will you marry me?” I suggest desperately, only half joking at this point.

“You know your parents would never go for that,” he says with a laugh, clearly not understanding just how much I’m starting to wish he’d agree. “What about going on a dating show? All the contestants on those claim to want to be married at the end of it.”

A dating show?How do people even get on those? “Like one of those reality shows all the streaming services keep promoting everywhere?” Those seem so vapid, but I guess I'd be applying for the same reason more or less. So maybe it isn’t the worst idea. “Are there any happening soon enough for me to pull it off?”

“Yeah, I saw an ad yesterday for one that’s doing an open casting call for singles who live in or around NYC. I think it’s brand new, and you’re, like, the perfect contestant: you’re not ugly and you don’t have a job. I’m sure they’d pick you,” he insists, sounding excited about the idea.

My first instinct is to laugh it off, but I really am desperate. I haven’t been able to keep a girlfriend for more than a month since my parents gave me their stupid ultimatum, and I’m running out of options. I had no idea that being in a real relationship required so much hard work. I’ve tried to be better, but I’m so used to being on my own, and women don’t like it when you lose track of time or forget that you said you’d come to something they care about. I’ve been alone for so long that I’ve never needed to worry about the details of being in a relationship, and I wish that I was better at it.

Growing up, I didn’t exactly have the best examples of healthy, supportive relationships. I think my dad tried his best when he was around, but he was always traveling for work, and my mom would’ve rather handed me off to nannies than spend time with me herself. My siblings are older and had each other; they never wanted to spend any time with the baby of the family.

Honestly, I think the only real affection I ever got came from our Samoyed puppy, Lady. She followed me around like a little fluffy white shadow and would always snuggle up to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her warm, sunny presence in my otherwise cold home.

I tried to make sure she had the best dog life possible. Losing her in my senior year of high school was definitely one of thehardest things I’ve ever gone through. She was twelve and had lived a full life, and I knew she was uncomfortable in the end, but it still gutted me. I think about her often, even ten years later.

Sometimes I wonder if growing up that way left me broken when it comes to dating. I really feel like I’ve given it my all with the girls I’ve attempted to date, but no matter how hard I try, or how much I want it to work, I keep fucking it up. I found out pretty quickly that the women I was picking up in bars and clubs weren’t looking for real relationships, even if they did want to hookup again. So I moved to the apps, but I keep striking out there as well.Maybe a reality show is a good option for me.

“Do you still have the link?” I check, getting more excited about the idea. I have nothing to lose at this point, and I do really like the idea of meeting someone who’s already hoping to get married quickly.

“Yeah, I sent it to my cousin, so I should still have it,” he says, and a moment later, my phone lights up with his text.

“Thanks.” I follow the link and am brought to a website forLove Without Labels—a new reality show designed to test people’s preconceived notions with completely blind and genderless dating. The casting call is for anyone above the age of eighteen who is looking for their forever person, regardless of their gender identity.

The website gives a brief overview of the premise, stating that contestants can’t disclose names, ages, or gender, explaining that there will be voice altering technology so you can’t decipher voices. Everyone will have their own apartment at first, and if you find a match, you can ask them to move in with you to continue dating. The show wants to see if people can make a deeper connection without looks or labels.

That sounds like a cool idea. I don’t have any specific type physically, so I’m not worried about not knowing exactly what they look like. I’m sure I’ll be happy with whatever girl I end up vibing with.

The website continues to explain that if you do find someone to pair with, you’ll meet the person you’ve been talking to and decide if you want to take things further. Ultimately, each couple will have the chance to tie the knot, and if they do, there’s a small amount of prize money on the table to sweeten the deal.

I guess they want to make it seem like a success, even if it’s all just a ploy. But hey, that’s all my parents want too—me to get hitched. They never specified it had to bereal.

They’re planning to start filming in about a month, and it looks like the deadline to submit an application is tomorrow. “This could totally work,” I agree, getting more excited about the idea as I continue to think about it.

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