by Sean Lowe
“Are you hot?” I asked her.
“No, I’m fine,” she said. Of course, there’s that old saying that Southern ladies don’t sweat; they glisten. I felt as though Emily—ever the proper lady—was probably a “glistener.”
I, on the other hand, was sweating my tail off. I tried to ignore the sweat running down my back.
Usually, the producers tried to stay out of our dates, to let the conversations happen naturally. Thankfully, they didn’t often need to interject to spice things up. However, if the conversation started to lag, they might shoot out a suggestion for a topic of conversation. “Sean, why don’t you tell her about . . .” Or they might say, “Sean, didn’t you say something about a certain childhood drama?”
The producers didn’t interrupt us on that day because our conversation was going so well—other than the fact that by the end of it I’d sweated through my clothes. They broke us up to do our ITM chats, and then we headed to my parents’ house in separate cars.
I was so excited for Emily to meet my family because they were part of my strategy. It isn’t easy to express what kind of person you are on a televised dating show. So every chance I got, I told her about my upbringing, my values, and my parents. I also emphasized how I wanted to create a family with her that’s just as great as the one my parents created for me.
Mom, Dad, Shay, and Andrew were in my parents’ backyard with my nephew, Smith, and my niece, Kensington. This was the first time they had gotten involved in this production, and it was very strange to have cameramen cowering around our yard. Plus, they’d all seen Emily during her season on The Bachelor. When I walked in with Emily on my arm, I could tell by their faces it felt like seeing a celebrity. It didn’t hurt to have film crews following our every move.
“Your son is so great,” she said. I could tell my parents noticed when she reached for my hand. Shay has always been very open with my family. In fact, she never stops talking. Every problem she’s ever had in her life, she’s immediately shared with my parents. I, on the other hand, hide everything. I’m perfectly content being alone to work things out in my own head. I don’t want to sit around and discuss my situation with other people, especially my family. Out of all the girls I’ve ever dated, guess how many I’ve talked about in a deep conversation with my parents?
None.
Sometimes on the show, the parents really grill the person being brought home, but my parents are nice and unfailingly polite. Because humor is so big in my family, the producers thought it would be hilarious for me to tell Emily that I still lived at home. It was a little cheesy, but we decided to go ahead with it. After we chatted out in the yard for a bit, the producers gave me a signal.
“Emily,” I said. “I need to come clean on one point.” My family pasted stern looks on their faces. “I still live at home with my parents. I don’t have to live with them, but I choose to live with them.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said graciously, motioning to my parents’ well-kept yard with flowering bushes, green grass, and a beautiful cottage for their granddaughter. “I want to move in too.”
“Let me show you around,” I said. When I took her to “my room,” there was an unmade bed, half-eaten cookie remnants, and a lot of filth. “This is Whiskers, Buddy, Mumu, and Froggy,” I said, pointing out the various stuffed animals they had placed around the filthy room. “I kind of wish my mom would’ve cleaned up a bit.”
I’m not sure she bought it. It was so over the top. “That’s okay,” she said kindly. “I know how to clean.”
The girl was unflappable, even when my mom and dad tried—as another joke—to serve her baked armadillo. When we revealed that these were hoaxes, she took it all in good fun.
The day was a whirlwind, and almost no second passed when a camera wasn’t pointing at us. Producers wanted everything to be documented, of course, so they tried to make sure there were no private moments. However, one exchange did happen off camera that was pretty significant. Emily and my dad had gone inside the house to talk and were about to go back outside to meet with everyone else. It was all staged, of course, which takes a little time. As the producers were discussing camera angles, Emily stole a short, private conversation with my dad.
“Sean’s so much different than the rest of the guys,” she said.
“How so?”
“His faith is so evident in the way he acts around me.”
“Well, can I tell you a little story?” he asked. “The day Sean was on his way out to the airport to fly to Charlotte to start filming the show, he called me. I was in the locker room at my gym, but I made sure to pick up.”
“All right,” the producers interrupted. “Let’s go back and regroup with the family.”
“Hold on,” Emily said. “I want to hear this.”
The producers, always on a tight schedule and reticent to let any meaningful conversations happen off camera, stood around as my dad continued.
“So I was telling Emily that Sean called me on the way to the airport when I was at the gym. I told him that Sherry and I would pray for him, that I loved him, and that I knew God would use him somehow in all this.
“Fifteen minutes later, I was out in the gym exercising when a guy tapped me on the shoulder. He said, ‘You didn’t know it, but I was standing behind you when you were on the phone.’ ”
Dad could tell he had the attention of Emily and even the producers.
“He said, ‘I heard what you said to your son, and it made me think that I need to get my life right with God. Just hearing you say you loved your son and that you would be praying for him made me realize how far away I have gotten from God. Anyway, I wanted you to know that God is already using your son because your conversation got my attention.’ ”
“Really?” Emily asked.
“Yes,” my dad said. “That’s when I knew God does have something in store for Sean in all of this.”
It was a special moment, because Emily’s interest showed my dad she had a very soft heart. I was glad my hometown date allowed Emily to get a sense of my family’s faith, kindness, and fun-loving ways—even if we weren’t racing around a track or traversing a huge farm in a dune buggy. As simple as it was, the hometown date helped me become more comfortable with our escalating romance. By the time Emily was whisked away, Mom—who’d been skeptical—said she’d be thrilled if Emily and I got engaged. I’d like to say I’m the kind of guy who would pursue romance no matter what my family said, but their stamp of approval went a long way in confirming the feelings I could no longer deny were developing for Emily.
Jef, Arie, Chris, and I—the final four—reconvened in Los Angeles for the rose ceremony after the hometown visits. Just like every other rose ceremony, I wasn’t nervous at all. I was the second person Emily called that night. Whether I was the first or the last person she called, it didn’t matter. I knew she was going to call my name.
I knew I had something really special that no one else shared with Emily—mainly our faith. I didn’t question it.
When Chris went home that night, I went to our final destination knowing one thing for certain.
Andrew’s text had told me so many months ago: I was going to win. But by this time, I’d realized I didn’t want to win.
I wanted to spend forever with Emily as my wife.
“Wear shorts today, but make sure you bring a swimsuit,” Scott told me when I woke up on the tropical island of Curaçao in the southern Caribbean Sea. We had finally reached the end destination of the season’s Bachelorette journey. In a few days, Emily and I would be engaged in a jaw-dropping romantic setting. At least, that’s what I knew in my heart. We still had to go through the formality of one more rose ceremony. At that point, two remaining guys would both propose to Emily in the show’s finale. She’d say yes to one, and then cue happily ever after.
I grabbed my swimsuit and headed out to the van. They drove me down a dirt road and then stopped randomly in the middle of nowhere.
“This is yo
ur spot,” the driver said, putting the van into park and rolling down the windows. I looked out and saw the cameramen getting into position, probably for about fifteen minutes. Everything about this show was hurry-up-and-wait, but today it seemed particularly cruel. My thoughts were racing. This was going to be a big day for me, because I was finally going to tell Emily I loved her.
“Is there anything you want to talk to Emily about specifically today?” Scott asked before jumping out of the van to help the camera crew. He asked this question before every date and then figured out the best time to bring up that particular topic.
“Yep,” I said. “Today’s the day.”
“The L word?” He smiled.
I knew it was time. Saying “I love you” is a big moment in every relationship. It’s even more challenging to say it on a television show to a person who can’t return the sentiment. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was the only guy who hadn’t come out and told Emily I loved her.
“Okay, well, please wait to tell Emily during the evening portion of the date when things are supposed to be more serious,” said Scott. “Oh, and good luck!”
Officially putting it on the agenda made me feel uneasy. I didn’t want to overthink the moment. Surely it will come up naturally in conversation, I thought as I sat in the van alone. However, my mind kept going back to it as a tongue finds a bad tooth. Even though I was so happy to give up my phone two months ago, I regretted that there was never any distraction. No texts. No Nigerian e-mail scams. No weather alerts. No Angry Birds. Unable to properly waste time, I sat there in the heat as the anticipation built.
This was the week the producers would offer Emily the option of overnight dates with each guy. At the end of each of her three evening dates, Emily opened a card from Chris Harrison inviting her and her date to use the “fantasy suite.” This card, for some reason, is usually accompanied by a ridiculously old-fashioned key, presumably because a magnetic key card doesn’t conjure romance in the same way. While I normally would’ve been nervous about such a prospect, I knew premarital sex was off the table for this Southern Christian bachelorette. When Emily was a Bachelor contestant, she turned down an offer for an overnight date from Brad Womack, saying she didn’t want to set a bad example for her daughter. I didn’t even wonder how she was handling this potentially awkward situation, because I knew she’d do it with grace and charm.
I jumped when Scott knocked on the window and motioned toward the road. “Okay, it’s time to start walking.”
I climbed out of the van and placed my feet on the dirt. I hadn’t seen Emily for several days and had no idea what to expect. When I came around the bend, there she was. Radiant. At this point I had a choice to make. Some people try to continue walking casually, which is super awkward. (I noticed that when a camera was on me—and me alone—I suddenly forgot how to walk. Do I swing my arms, or do I look like Sasquatch? Am I going too slow?) But it’s also odd to break out into a sprint. Presented with two equally uncomfortable options, I chose the one that more accurately reflected how I felt. I jogged up to her and gave her a big hug.
It was wonderful to have her in my arms again. At this point, the dirt road had yielded to a view of the ocean, and we took a moment to absorb the amazing scenery. The Bachelorette had taken us all over the world, and it was poignant that this was our last stop. As we stood there, arms intertwined, a helicopter appeared in the sky.
“Our date is going to be on our own private island,” Emily gushed.
I’d never flown in a helicopter before, so I made sure to buckle up. There was a moment after we climbed into the helicopter and before we took off during which the cameras were getting in position. I remember like it was yesterday. She leaned over and said, “Make sure you don’t tell anybody this, but I have a plan.”
“For me?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “For you only.”
“When I open the fantasy-suite invitation tonight, I’m going to say no on camera,” she said. “But after we finish filming tonight, come back to the suite and we can hang out.”
“Really?” I asked, my heart in my throat.
“Don’t get any ideas.” She smiled. “I want so badly to be able to talk to you without the whole nation watching. No cameras. Just us.”
I’d never felt more certain of our relationship as I looked out the window and watched the ground grow distant beneath us. The private island, of course, was amazing. Before we got to get out into the ocean, we were to partake in another picnic by the water. As I sat there, looking at her over our prop food, it was all I could do not to break out into laughter. It was so fun to share secrets with her.
Emily, apparently, had other things on her mind—mainly my past relationship with Brooke.
“You sister told me you treated your past girlfriend like a buddy,” Emily said. “How so?”
The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Brooke, especially while being filmed. But I was developing a real relationship with Emily, even though it was playing out on a television show. That meant we had to have real conversations.
“I loved her, I really did,” I said. “There came a point when I realized I wasn’t supposed to spend the rest of my life with her. Because I wasn’t in love with her, I didn’t do the sweet things a boyfriend was supposed to do,” I said. “Like, when I’m around you, I can’t stop holding your hand or kissing you. I didn’t necessarily have those feelings around her.”
“Did you ever talk about marriage?” Emily asked.
“Yes, she brought up marriage all the time, but I’d always try to deviate from the conversation,” I said. “That would cause arguments. She knew something was up.”
Of course, this was an oversimplification of our relationship. Brooke’s one of the best girls I’ve ever met. However, it’s not easy to put a three-year relationship into a nutshell. Because the cameras were on me, I left out the fact that I went back to Brooke and told her I regretted ending everything. I left out the fact that she was the one who told me that she didn’t want to be with someone who was willing to leave her for so long.
After our chat, Emily and I snorkeled and wrapped up the day portion of our date. The producers called, “Cut!” and gave us enough time to shower and get ready for the night portion.
It didn’t disappoint.
The technicians had set up a beautiful picnic area right on the beach on our resort in Curaçao. Again, the lighting department was amazing, because they could transform any place into the most stunning spot in the world. A blanket was covered in lush pillows, a fire crackled in the background, light hit the rocks just right, and the stars and the moon sparkled. (Though I’m not sure the lighting technicians were responsible for the appearance of the stars and moon.)
During the evening portion of the dates, the producers liked for us to begin by rehashing the day. Yeah, today was so great—I enjoy spending time with you—Snorkeling was fun—before getting into more serious conversation.
“I so enjoy spending time with you, Sean,” Emily said before going back to her favorite topic. “You’re the perfect man.”
“I’m far from perfect.”
“What’s not perfect? I feel like things have been going so perfect . . . at least that’s how I’ve been feeling.”
My heart was beating in my chest as I prepared to express my feelings to her for the first time. “I don’t want you to worry about how you will fit into my life.”
“It’s not just me—it’s Ricki and me,” she quickly corrected.
“I want that,” I said. “I want to be a soccer dad. Actually, I wrote Ricki a letter on the way home from Prague.”
I pulled out the paper and cleared my throat.
When viewers were watching the show on Monday nights, they saw these wonderful, intimate dates. What they didn’t see was all the activity going on about ten feet away. Right outside the camera’s gaze were about twenty people standing around watching us. There were camera operators, sound technicians, producers, direc
tors, storywriters, lighting techs, and more. Not to mention the millions of people who were watching this unfold at home.
Even though the setting was less than private, the moment I was having with Emily was as real as any I’ve ever had. Maybe more real, because I’d never even considered adding a little girl into my life. I’d never talked to anyone about being the father of her children.
“Dear Ricki,” I began, and my voice broke a bit. “I’m writing you this letter before ever meeting you . . .” By the time I reached the end, I’d regained control of my voice and emotions. “The thought of spending the rest of my life with you and your mom overwhelms my heart with joy,” I read. “The last thing I want you to remember is that I’m always here to protect you and your mom and I’m always going to be here for you.”
I’d been confident that Emily believed I was the one. But in that moment, when I saw that look in her eyes after I read the letter, I knew. My loving letter to Ricki had sealed the deal. I folded up my letter, handed it to Emily, and thought, That’s it. I’m about to be a husband and a dad. With my newfound confidence, I took a deep breath and decided to go for broke.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, and I can’t picture my life without you,” I said. “Never in a million years did I think I would have these feelings or find the woman I wanted to be with forever. But I’ve fallen in love with you, and I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
Normally, in an untelevised relationship not involving two other guys, a woman might respond with, “I love you too.” In this context, however, it’s forbidden. So Emily simply beamed with joy instead.
“That makes me so happy to hear.” That’s when she reached behind her back, pulled out an envelope, and asked me to read it. “Tell me what you think.”
“Emily and Sean,” I read aloud. “If you choose to forego your individual rooms, please use this key to stay as a couple in the fantasy suite.”
I put the card down and said, “Well, I’d love to stay up, talk to you, and be with you.”