Page 2 of The Reality of Wanting Him (Love Without Labels #1)

BLAKE

Sixteen Months Later

“ S o, 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 the hardest 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 for Love 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 be real .

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.

Chad must have also followed the link because he flashes me the website from his own phone. “What if you end up talking to a really ugly girl? Or what if it’s a dude?” he says, sounding concerned.

“Come on, they always cast hot people for these things,” I point out. “Plus, I feel like it’ll be kind of obvious if I’m talking to a man or a woman, right?”

“Yeah, I guess it might, depending on what you talk about,” he concedes. “So, are you actually going to go for it?”

“I like the idea.” I shrug. “I’m running out of time, and everyone who signs up for the show is at least open to the idea of getting married in the next few months.

Plus, I’m so sick of my mom trying to set me up with her friends' daughters. They only seem to care about our appearances, so a little depth might be nice. I’m worried about leaving Lucky alone for that long, though,” I admit.

Lucky is the Samoyed puppy I got in Lady’s honor when I was cut from the NFL and had no idea what to do with myself.

I hadn’t gotten another pet before then because I assumed that I’d be traveling across the country every week with my team.

When that didn’t go according to plan, being able to have another pet was truly the only silver lining, and probably the only thing to keep me from spiraling off the deep end into the New York City party and drug scene that some of the guys I knew from college fell into.

I’ve never gone longer than a night or two away from her, and when that has happened, I’ve been kind of a mess trusting her with other people.

I pay someone to take her out, feed her, and keep her company if I do go out for the night, but I know that no one else will give her the proper snuggles that I do, and I miss her comforting presence at my side whenever I do have to be gone for more than a few hours.

“You know that she can move in with me while you’re gone.

I still have the binder you made me with all of her care instructions.

I promise to snuggle her as much as I possibly can,” he assures me, and I can’t help but smile.

Chad is probably the only person I’d trust with Lucky for that long.

I know he loves her almost as much as I do.

The thought of being away from her for weeks makes me not want to apply, but I don’t want her to be homeless either, so it’s time to find a wife.

“Okay, if you’re sure?” I check, and he nods enthusiastically.

We spend the rest of dinner mapping out everything I should include in my application.

When I get home, I start filling it out, trying to make sure I include everything important. I write down the basics: styled blond hair, hazel eyes, a decent tan most of the year. I even throw in that I'm six foot three because if I’m putting in this much effort, they might as well know I’m tall.

Once it's all written out, I spend way too long triple-checking everything, making sure I don't leave anything out that might cost me my shot. I attach a bunch of pictures too—some where I’m in swim trunks showing off the body I work hard for, and others where I’m dressed up for charity events.

I’m hoping to show them that I can clean up well but also know how to have a good time.

Seems like important reality show contestant skills, right ?

The last thing I need to do before submitting the application is record a short video about why I want to be on the show.

I’m pretty sure “my parents threatened to cut me off and I’m terrified of losing their money because I have no idea how to budget, pay taxes, or be a functioning adult” isn’t the best selling point.

So I go with a half-truth instead.

I sit in front of my laptop and press record.

“Hey, I’m Blake, and I’m hoping that you’ll consider me to be a contestant on Love Without Labels .

I’m twenty-nine years old, from New York City, aka the greatest city in the world, and I’m looking to settle down.

” I flash the camera what I hope is a dazzling smile that hides how nervous I really am.

“I’ve always assumed I’d be married by now, but the dating world isn’t what I thought it would be.

The bars and apps haven’t panned out the way I’d hoped they would.

“But I have a really great feeling about this. I love the idea of building a connection with someone before you jump into the more physically focused dating routine. I’m a fun, easygoing, open-minded guy, and I think I’d be a great fit for the show.

Can’t wait to chat with you all soon, and who knows?

Maybe wedding bells are in my near future.

Fingers crossed,” I tease with a wink at the camera.

I watch it back once to make sure I don’t look too stiff, but it’s fine. I look good, and I don’t think I seem awkward. What more could they want for a reality dating show?