I made every attempt to sit still while Allegra tortured me, ratting my hair slightly and smoothing it over, in an attempt to give it some extra body.

"Ouch!" I yelled, finally squirming away from her. "What are you trying to do? Make me go bald?"

"Don't be such a drama queen. I'm just trying to help you with this lifeless hair of yours," she spat.

"Thanks for being so brutally honest," I muttered.

"I'm sorry, but this will be good for you, I promise."

I huffed and let her do her thing. I just closed my eyes and started thinking of my latest advertising pitch. I wanted desperately to land the Sony account; there was a huge push to market more technology to women, but I absolutely despised the idea of using pink and flowers to make a laptop more female-friendly. I really wanted to come up with a marketing approach that would appeal to women without making them feel like it was created just for them, or making men feel like they couldn't use such a feminine piece of technology. I wanted women to feel empowered by technology, not belittled. Women should be equal on the playing field, and they should not be intimidated by electronics.

"Harper!" Allegra's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"What?" I asked, shaking my head. Apparently she was done tormenting me and my aching head.

"I've asked you three times now. Are you ready to fill out this application?"

"I think I can handle it by myself," I smirked, knowing that my best friend didn't really trust me with this even though I was one of the most successful advertising reps in the city, hell, the country, well on my way to becoming an executive for Elite 21, the most well-known ad agency in the western states.

"No, I'm doing this so it looks perfect. First," she clicked. "Name?"

"Are you serious, Allegra?"

She laughed and filled in the appropriate space, saying my name out loud. "Harper Louise Blackwood."

"Height and weight?"

"4 feet, 10 inches, 295 lbs."

She glowered at me. "Very funny."

"Make sure to write down that I have a sense of humor. Fine, 5'5", 130 lbs. According to most websites, I'm overweight."

She typed in the information, and I assumed she went ahead and filled out age, education, family background, etc. because I heard her typing and clicking for quite a while before she asked me the next question: "Please describe your ideal mate in terms of physical attraction and in terms of personality attraction."

I gave her a stoic look.

She said the words as she typed: "Tall, dark, and handsome."

"Cliche much?" I huffed.

"Well, you do like guys with dark hair. I've never, ever seen you crushing on a blonde guy, and certainly not a ginger."

"Fine," I said. "Dark hair, green eyes, nice smile, tall, fit."

I thought a little more. "In terms of personality, I like a guy who is brilliant. Must be a member of MENSA. Must earn at least $100K per year and have a lucrative stock portfolio."

"Those aren't personality traits, you freak," Allegra laughed.

"Isn't that what this show is all about? Finding a guy who's rich and handsome without doing the actual work of finding Mr. Right, besides sitting there and looking pretty?"

"No, that's not the point at all," she scoffed. "It's about taking that chance to find someone you may never meet otherwise. It's about hoping that the stars line up just for you, for your perfect chance to find your Prince Charming. It's really romantic when you think about it – you could walk into that house and he could see you and just know in his gut that you're the right one for him."

"Do you have a barf bag anywhere nearby?" I asked, interrupting her with an exaggerated grimace on my face. 

She ignored me and continued, "And if he doesn't know it right away, then you have time to prove it to him without being distracted by your all-consuming career."

"I'm so sorry for wanting to be successful and actually loving my job," I grumbled.

"Hobbies?"

"Working."

"Interests?"

"Advertising."

"How would you describe yourself?"

"Hardworking, go-getter, energetic."

"God, you're so boring," she groaned.

"Then why are you hanging out with me?"

"Because I love you and I want you to be as happy and Jason and me."

And there it was, the reason my best friend has been badgering me to find Mr. Right, and most recently conned me into applying for this stupid show. She had found her own Mr. Wonderful and now felt sorry for me that I didn't have one of my very own.

I finally let her list some of my interests, which she didn't even have to ask about in the first place: Hiking, swimming, snorkeling, scuba diving, yoga and after she badgered me to list something non-athletic, I added antiquing and my weird obsession with hunting for unique rocks and gems.

"Let's do the video now," she said, expressing a whole lot more excitement than I had ever felt in my life.

She handed me a silky bra. "This is missing the top half of the cups," I complained. She threw a tank top into my hands as well and pushed me towards the bathroom to change. "You're trying to make me look like a hooker," I called over my shoulder.

When I returned, she had the camera all set up and she beckoned me to sit in a comfy armchair across from it. She came over to me and made a few adjustments to my posture, my hair, and then she pushed my neckline down a bit, at which point I slapped her hand away.

"I think it's low enough. Good grief, you can see my belly button in this damn thing."

"I just want you to show off what you've got, babe," she laughed.

"I don't have much in the bosom department, in case you haven't noticed."

"Well, duh, that's why you're wearing a push-up bra, to make it look like you've got something. Accentuate it. Make it look larger than life."

"All right, let me get this straight," I argued. "I apply for this thing, Mr. Right, or his committee or whatever, chooses me based on the fact that my boobs look like twin Mt. Everests. What happens when I show up with nubs the size of anthills? I'll be out before the first candle ceremony."

"I don't think he'll be that shallow," Allegra huffed.

"Then why do I have to accentuate my obvious lack in the bosom department?" I whined.

"Ugh, you're so exasperating," she said, stepping behind the camera.

"If Mr. Right wants me or doesn't want me on the basis of breast size, then I don't want him," I shot back.

"But you are beautiful, you know that, right?"

I rolled my eyes and answered with a sarcastic, "Yes, mom." 

I guess I agreed with her in general. I certainly wasn't super model material, but I didn't have any major complaints about my appearance except that my chest was a little less ample than I'd like. At 5'5"and 130 lbs., I wasn't anorexically skinny, and I never wanted to be. I was healthy and strong, and I rocked a 6-pack because of my devotion to the gym. It was the only reason I wore a bikini on occasion, so I could show off what I worked so hard to attain. Otherwise, I was happy with a one-piece that covered a little more flesh.

Don't get me wrong – I wasn't shy about my body; I just wanted to decide who should see it and when. Perhaps I had brainwashed myself with my professional approach - I wanted to be the best damn advertising representative and make all of my deals based on my intellect and creativity, not on my sex appeal. Therefore, I was vehemently opposed to letting too much leg or any cleavage show on the job, and I guess that just leaked over into my personal life.

My caramel-colored hair was suitable, if a bit lackluster. Allegra was always trying to get me to dye it or change the style somehow. If I didn't know better, I'd think she considered me ugly, but that was just her personality, always wanting new, better, different, interesting. She herself had tried almost all the colors of the rainbow on her locks, lips, and cheeks, and she even shaved her head completely bald once, after failing to comb out the dreadlocks that she had spent months cultivating.

"Would you get on with it already?" I whined as Allegra fidgeted with the camera.

"Okay, start your statement in three, two, one." She pointed to me like she was a Hollywood director.

"Hello, I'm Harper Blackwood. I'm an advertising representative for Elite 21, one of the most prestigious ad agencies in the country. I've worked there for seven years and I'm on my way to becoming an executive."

I saw Allegra motioning for me to stop talking about my career.

"I enjoy long walks on the beach, poetry, and guys who can't think for themselves."

Allegra switched off the camera and stomped her foot on the floor. "What the hell, Harper? I thought you were going to do this for me."

I sighed. "I am, but only as a favor to you. The main thing I'm looking forward to is having a vacation, if I even get chosen, which is doubtful."

"Well, you won't get chosen if you can't be serious on camera. This would be so cool and you know that my chance to get on the show went out the window when Jason proposed. Come on, this is your birthday gift to me, remember? You have to at least make a good application and a decent video. Okay?"

Allegra had applied at least three times to be on different seasons of The Most Eligible Bachelor. I was actually shocked that she wasn't chosen with her effortless beauty, dark skin, bright eyes, and hair that was ridiculously perfect. And she was tall, a good 5 or 6 inches above me. If they didn't choose her, I had no chance at all.

"Fine," I huffed. Normal people asked for simple things for their birthdays, like a new purse or tickets to a concert. But no, my best friend decided that, as a gift for her 25th birthday, she wanted me to apply for the most unrealistic reality show on TV. Her birthday was ten months ago, and we had missed the deadline for last season's show. All this time, I had hoped and prayed she would forget the idea all together. But she didn't.

She turned the camera on again and I did my best to present myself as an attractive, interesting, thinking-for-myself, successful woman.

"Yeah!" She squealed. Once it was uploaded, we added the application and clicked send.

That was it. I was officially entered as a potential contestant for the wildly popular reality show, The Most Eligible Bachelor; well except this next season would have a new title and a twist. They were calling it The World's Most Eligible Bachelor, and there was some talk of it becoming an international competition.

I had a better chance of marrying Elvis on a space ship than being chosen for the show. In any case, I had fulfilled my obligation and I wanted to forget the whole thing as soon as possible.

_____

Here we go! I'm really excited for this story. :D 

Take a peek at the cast list - I'll be adding more as the story progresses. xoxo