Bride and Seek

All the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances

— William Shakespeare

Even when I was a kid, I knew that love is not all it’s cracked up to be. I saw the effects it had on the people around me, on my mother and sister, and I am not impressed. At all.

Love is nothing more than an inconvenience at best and an absolute shitshow at worst. I steer clear of it as much as possible, much to the chagrin of my mother who continues to desperately beg me to find a man and give her grandkids as soon as possible. Apparently, it’s lost on her that in this day and age, it’s perfectly normal for a twenty-eight-year-old woman to be happily single and child-free.

Plus, I don’t have time for distractions, not with my work schedule. Just the idea of juggling dating and my work has me nearly breaking out in hives.

That being said, I’m not completely made of stone. There are moments that make me wonder what it feels like to be in love. Moments like the one unfolding before me right now as I sit at the rooftop bar of one of the most exclusive restaurants in Malibu.

At a table about ten feet away from me, sits a couple—an unbelievably, borderline offensively, attractive couple—completely wrapped up in each other. She’s dressed to the nines in a burgundy cocktail dress that perfectly accentuates her curves, putting my black jeans and t-shirt to shame. I lean forward in my seat in an effort to catch every word of their conversation, I’m completely engrossed.

I watch intently as the woman flips her unnaturally pale blonde hair over her shoulder and starts to speak.

“Brandon, I wanted to talk to you about something I’ve been thinking about for some time now,” she says, her eyes brimming with preemptive tears. “We’ve known each other for some time now and I… well, I…”

The woman stops to fan her eyes dramatically, as if the rapid bursts of air will prevent the accumulating tears from falling.

Brandon grabs her hand, clutching it close to his chest. He reaches out to push a lock of hair out of her eyes.

“Jennifer,” he says her name as if it’s the only name he’s ever known. “I know exactly what you’re going to say and I want you to know…”

Brandon averts his eyes, seemingly in an attempt to prevent his own tears from making an appearance.

The pause for dramatic effect is a nice touch, I think. I’ll have to remember that.

“I love you too,” Brandon finishes with a flourish, taking the opportunity to look deeply into Jennifer’s eyes.

She squeals in delight and throws her arms around Brandon’s neck, smashing her pink cotton-candy glossed lips against his. When she finally pulls away, they’re both out of breath with flushed cheeks.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before,” Brandon continues, holding Jennifer’s hands in his lap.

The loving couple stare intently into each other’s eyes, clearly infatuated. I can’t help but wonder how that must feel. I’ve been close to love before, namely my experiments with dating in college, but I never reached the Icarian heights these two seem to be living at.

The closest I came was junior year of college with Josh. But can I really call it love if we never claimed the coveted boyfriend/girlfriend titles? Plus, his crippling video game addiction and penchant for blacking out on Friday nights made him far from the ideal romantic candidate.

Post-graduation, my attempts at relationships have been lacking to say the least. Maybe if I put some more effort into it I could have whatever it is that has Barbie and Ken over there practically drooling over each other.

There were a couple guys I could have been easier on. Maybe, give them more of the benefit of the doubt. My mother always says I’m too picky anyway. I always tell her if you should be picky about anything, it should be the person you plan to spend the rest of your life with. Not that my logic stops her from setting me up on blind dates with the middle-aged divorcé sons of her bingo friends.

There was Gavin. I met him a month after moving from Worcester, Massachusetts to Los Angeles. Nice guy. He always smelled like charcoal from the KBBQ he lived above in Koreatown, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just meant that all I wanted to do was eat kalbi whenever I saw him.

The end result of that relationship was a loss of interest on his part, not that it bothered me much. On the bright side, Mr. Kim still recognizes me whenever I come in and gives me a complimentary bottle of soju. Although, that might just be a pity gift now that I think about it.

I’m snapped back to reality when I hear the waterworks start from Jennifer. Damn, what did I miss?

They’re both standing now, arms wrapped like tentacles around each other. Brandon pulls his head back slightly, causing Jennifer to look up at him with big, doe eyes. I’m impressed that her mascara hasn’t run given all the crying she’s been doing.

I lean forward in my seat, despite my better judgment, when I see Brandon reach for something in his pocket.

Oh my god, here it comes.

He steps back slowly, pulling a small red box from his pocket. He positions himself on one knee and looks up at Jennifer, whose perfectly manicured hands have fluttered upwards to demurely cover her mouth. She knows exactly what’s about to happen.

As Brandon lifts the box upwards, he opens it to reveal the treasure within, but it must be difficult with his meaty, frat-boy-like hands because before he can show off the diamond, the box comes tumbling out of his fingers. The ring clatters to the floor, rolling absent-mindedly until it runs out of steam and collapses with a small clink.

“Shit!” Brandon roars, clearly upset he’s ruined the moment.

That’s when he turns to me.

Clearly, he expects me to do something

That’s when I jump into action.

“CUT!” I yell, assuming my role as Assistant Director. “We’ll pick up from the hug! Complete reshoot of the proposal! Take a five everyone!”

“Olivia, I’m so sorry,” Brandon pleads as he comes rushing over to me, his voice has gone up a couple octaves now that the cameras have turned away. “I don’t know what happened!”

“Dude, it’s fine,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “Just be glad it’s me on set today, not Dave. He would have skinned you alive.”

My adoring, ever patient boss Dave took the day to drum up some publicity for the show. He’s got some interviews with a few entertainment outlets, E! and Entertainment Weekly to be exact. I’m happy he’s taking the more front-facing role trying to stir up interest in America’s longest running and formerly most watched reality dating series.

There was a time when our show, “Bride and Seek” (Clever, I know), easily reached seven million viewers per episode, but those days are long gone. We’re lucky to see a quarter of that now considering all the competitors and the way raunchier shows attracting attention on streaming platforms. We are the proverbial dinosaur in the game now and Dave’s working hard to beat back rumors that the next season will be our last.

With Brandon placated for the moment, I walk towards Jennifer. She’s a sweet girl, only twenty-five years old and somehow convinced her life is over if she doesn’t find the love of her life in the next year.

“Hey, girl,” I say, standing behind the makeup team as they zhuzh up her blush, making sure to hit the right balance between ingénue and sexy fox.

“Hey Liv!” She chirps in her usual, God-can-do-no-wrong tone. “What a flub, am I right? I can’t believe I’m gonna marry him!”

She barely contains a squeal of delight, but makes sure to keep her face slack for the makeup artists to get their jobs done.

“Yes, it is baffling that you, the gorgeous and kind woman that you are, have decided to say yes to a proposal from…”

I trail off as I look towards Brandon who stands hunched over the craft table, shoving tea sandwiches into his mouth like he’s just been told he’s about to board the last helicopter out of Saigon.

“... that.”

“Oh, don’t be so judgmental Liv! He’s actually really sweet when you get to know him.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he is,” I scoff. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you a couple notes, just to pump up the emotion a bit more.”

“Anything for you Liv,” Jennifer sings happily.

I smile despite myself. I must admit, her positive energy is infectious, it’s no wonder that the cameras love her so much.

“When he gets down on his knee, try to position yourself so you’re flush with the camera, we can get a better angle of your face that way. Other than that, you’re perfect. As usual.”

“Okay thank you! I want to make sure you guys are always getting the best shot,” she nods her head in reminder and cracks a smile now that the makeup team has dispersed.

Part of me envies her blind optimism, but I know the truth behind the whole charade we’ve cooked up here. I’ve been with the show long enough to know the statistics.

The real reality. While Brandon and Jennifer might have their happy ending as far as our viewers are concerned, the likelihood they are still together even a year from now is next to zero.

This is life on the set of a reality television show. You never know what’s real or what’s manufactured.

That’s all by design.

I give her an encouraging thumbs-up before I head back to the director’s chair.

“Places, everyone!” I holler as I take my seat.

There is some brief scurrying around, but soon enough everything’s in its place.

As it should be.

“Action!” I shout.