2 Questions Every Girl is Asking Herself

Chapter 66

After the shooting for FCWR wrapped, for the next four weeks, I traveled to Jiangnan, Tibet and Guilin. Strangely, I was no longer the infatuated tourist devouring everything in sight, seeing everything as a beautiful and inexplicable mystery. Not the South Lake, not the landscape of Li River, not even the Potala Palace of Lhasa really did anything for me. Much of the wanderlust was lost upon me this time, all I wanted to do was go back to Vancouver and see Matt.

In August, my photos came out on the Vancouver newspapers – to the horror of Matt's family, and bewilderment of his friends.

Finger poking the paper, Matt's mother demanded in near hysterics:

"Why is your girlfriend on a dating show?"

"Umm... I told her to go."

"Are you crazy?! Do you realize how many people watch the show? You are such an idiot."

In turn, Matt became angry at me. Or maybe he was already angry, this only lit the fuse. He demanded why I had left the light on for the Calgary cowboy, but refused believe anything I said when told him why. He didn't come to the airport to pick me up. He nearly blew off my friend Melissa's entire wedding dinner. When we did see each other, he was distant.

The second day I returned to Vancouver, I had to join Melissa and the other bridesmaids at her bridal suite. Mel had long ago planned that this would be the night we have a girls-night-in at the hotel so we could get ready together the next morning. For the big day.

I had always wanted to be a bridesmaid. So I was thrilled when Mel asked if I was up for the job. We began prepping months in advance. We went on day trips and road trips. Attending bridal shows, fashion shows, fittings. Inquiring after florists' fees, DJ's fees, and scoping out churches. We went shopping for bridesmaids' dresses and evening gowns in suburban malls and across the border. Hong Wang said it would be a proud moment for the boyfriend, to see his girlfriend at the wedding, not as a mere guest, but as bridesmaid.

On the wedding day, I walked down the aisle in a silvery-blue strapless dress with a bouquet of spring flowers, feeling all the eyes lay on me like a thin laced veil. I watched Mel exchange vows and kisses with her husband and I shed a few happy tears for the wedded couple. Then I shifted slightly to see what Matt was up to. Sitting in the pew, in his crisp white shirt and skinny black tie, and his fringe swept casually to the side, he looked as dashing as any Korean superstar. I couldn't help but smile. In romantic movies, isn't this the moment where boy and girl exchange a knowing glance?

I rested my eyes on him, as the priest offered his blessings, waiting for Matt to meet my gaze.

But he never did.

* * *

Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it to go on the show.

To be ridiculed in public, to have it wreak havoc in my home life, I don't know why I have bothered at all.

A lot of people ask if reality TV shows are real. Well, it is sort of real. Sarah Monson, a reality TV producer, pointed out, "For every unscripted punch in the face, there are still scribes on staff sketching out scenes and crafting storylines out of thin air. They map out episodes with a central theme or conflict and hope the talent bites."

For FCWR, a third of the girls were in the know about the central theme/conflict, and two thirds of the girls, the ones from Canada, were kept in the dark. In con man terms, the Canadian girls are the "blind mouse". Some of the male contestants were told which girls to pick as the "Heartbeat Girl", and which girls they should leave the stage with. Part of the show is pre-planned, part of it is unplanned. Which makes it all the more convincing.

The goal is to put eccentric characters in outrageous scenarios, and, as they say, watch what happens. "Are you gently nudged to talk about things you might not ever have thought of? Yes," explained Sarah Monson, "Do Producers cast people knowing that they will hate each other and pit them against each other for drama? Yes."

That's what they did with me and Number 7. And Lejia was fishing for conflict.

The eccentric "characters" (aka real people with real feelings) are like pet crickets being released in a wicker cage. Fun to watch. Not so fun to be.

There I was baring my soul in front of all these people, not realizing the way they run the show is to pit you against the next girl. They drop the bait, spring it on you like you're a pet cricket, (secretly hoping you'd duke it out with the other pet cricket), then broadcast the recording to 300 million people worldwide. Before I had a chance to wrap my head around this reality of reality TV, it was already over.

I say this now because for the first few weeks I got back in Vancouver, a lot of caustic hateful thoughts decided to camp out semi-permanently in my mind. Instead of keeping calm and carrying on, all I could think about was: What's wrong with me? Why did I make a fool of myself in public? Why did I screw up my relationship? Why am I such a failure?

It's so easy to hate yourself for performing poorly, for not saying the right things, for not being successful enough, for appearing "lesser" than the girl next to you, and feeling the attendant emotions of shame and insecurity. The old adage of "just be yourself" simply didn't work for me. If being myself wasn't enough, then I must not be enough?

But what I came to understand much later was this: You gotta get the rules of the game, in order to work the game.

I didn't get the game. Most contestants didn't get the game. But one person did. That was Number 21, Angel. Intuitively, she understood the inner workings of reality TV. Angel is in her late thirties. Grew up in China. Lived in the UK, and now works in investments in Vancouver. When Guan Xiao Lei, (the terra cotta warrior) announced he'd specifically come for Number 7, all girls turned off their lights. All except for Angel.

She's seven years his senior, they live 2000 miles apart, and she most definitely wasn't his "Heartbeat Girl". I remember thinking: What kind of girl puts herself up for rejection like this? Maybe she did it out of genuine interest for Xiao Lei, maybe she did it knowing it's a dead end. She may not have won the guy, because she definitely won the spotlight. She created both conflict and drama in one fell swoop.

The producers loved her. The audience gasped.

And that, my friends, is how you work reality TV.

Perhaps the old adage should be adjusted to: "Be yourself. But be savvy."

As for me, sometimes when you step off the conventional path, it is best not to tell people about it while it's in its infancy. People won't applaud when you haven't gained traction. You don't want to be showing your vulnerable parts to strangers who may not be friendly. Getting hurt is never fun. Before your dream is a thing yet, you have to protect it. Even if that means keeping it a secret. 

But...

If you don't put yourself out there, how is anybody going to know about what you're doing?