Behind the first door we have Bachelor Number One. Alone among the candidates, we started out as friends. In fact I didn't even know he was playing until it was too late. Unfortunately, he was patently inelegable because he didn't love Jesus. I told him so that night after he confessed his crush and never saw him again.
Bachelor Number Two was a mistake. So eager was I to be loved that I admitted him to the game without checking that I actually liked him. He broke his promises and by the time I sorted through the wreckage, he'd taken nine months of my life. He broke up with me over the phone, but we both know I pushed him to it. I haven't seen him since either.
Bachelor Number Three, a crowd favorite, appeared to have everything I could want, enough so to warrant trecking back and forth; enough so as to pledge my life to him. In my eyes it was all but official, just a matter of time. Apparently he disagreed. He murdered the bride-to-be he created and left me alone to bury her. After a week of seasick vascilation, he broke it up over the phone. He didn't even have the common decency to skype me.
