For the Right Reasons (35 page)

We had so much fun during this time on
DWTS
. During my very little time off, we managed to explore the city together. We would go to Runyon Canyon, try different restaurants, take the dogs to the beach, and walk around The Grove. The Grove, an awesome outdoor retail space that’s always on television and in the movies, was right across the street from our apartments, so we spent a lot of time there. Not only that, but we created great friendships with the other dancers, including Lisa Vanderpump and her entire family, Victor Ortiz, and Alexandra Raisman. It was wonderful to see Catherine smiling in the audience every week, always cheering more loudly than anyone. She even tried to match her dress with whatever my themed outfit was for the week. Catherine spent the days also studying Scripture and growing in her faith, learning to lean on the Lord.

It was a skill she’d need during the weeks of all those practices and rehearsals. As the weeks went on, the dances got more complicated and the practices got even longer. Thankfully, Peta is a workhorse who wanted to win too. I had to work harder just to stay in the mix, and I know the fact that I was rarely at home began weighing on Catherine. Even though we were making the most of the time there, she was still in an unfamiliar place, alone most of the days.

Want to grab dinner?
I texted Catherine on the way out the door of the rehearsal studio. It was close to ten.

I guess
, she texted back.
Isn’t it a bit late?

Suddenly, I realized she’d been in her apartment stewing over the fact
that I hadn’t contacted her. She didn’t understand I was spending every free moment I had with her—at dinner, the theater, or just running across the street to the mall. It seemed like no matter how much I tried, my time was never enough for her. In retrospect, I realize that I didn’t handle this situation well. I should’ve been more conscious of the fact that these ten- to twelve-hour practices were going to add too much strain to our relationship. I should’ve seen this coming and politely declined the opportunity. Of course, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I was new at being someone’s fiancé.

When I arrived, she met me at the door.

“I can’t,” she said, in tears.

“You can’t go out to eat?”

“No,” she said. “I can’t do this!” She motioned with her arm all around her in the
Dancing with the Stars
–provided apartment.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Nothing ever happens. At least for me. You’re gone every day. I never see you.”

“I want to spend time with you,” I said. “But this is just a hard time of life.”

“We just got
out
of a hard time of life,” she said. “Remember?
The Bachelor
? That wasn’t easy either. We kept saying that once it was over, we could get to live like normal people. Well, this isn’t
normal
!”

“Listen to me,” I said, in the calmest voice I could muster. “I want to spend time you, but rehearsal is eating up all my time.”

Catherine and I never argued on the set of
The Bachelor
. Now that we were in the real world, I was beginning to see a side of her that I’d never known existed. I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“I don’t know why I moved down here. I wait around all day just to get five minutes with you I get only your leftover time,” she said. Though I appreciated she was trying to be supportive by being in Los Angeles, her unhappiness stressed me out. Sometimes, before I turned the knob to see her after a hard day of practicing, I had to take a deep breath and brace myself for whatever was on the other side of the door. I knew I’d screwed
up and overcommitted myself on this show, but I had no way out until the American people wised up and sent me home. With my level of proficiency, I figured, that shouldn’t be too much longer.

“I left my career for you,” she said. She’d worked her way up at Amazon as a graphic designer but had to quit so we could be together in Los Angeles during filming. Suddenly this self-reliant woman had no income and had to rely on me to pay for everything. I now understand that this was a hard transition for her—not only did she move from Seattle to California, she went from being a professional person to someone’s fiancé. She was suddenly supposed to be my main cheerleader in the audience, my main encourager.

However, I didn’t feel encouraged. At least not in this moment.

She began sobbing.

“I just feel so lost,” she cried.

Every week, Catherine went to the Monday performance and Tuesday results show. She sat in the crowd with my parents and was always there to support and cheer for me. Even though we had troubles, I knew she wanted me to succeed and was doing her best to make this work.

Can this relationship last? Did I jump in too soon
? Doubts crept into my mind as I tried to navigate the complicated relationship-conducted-in-reality-TV waters. We had a couple of nights where I thought the neighbors might hear us arguing through the walls. She cried, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve given up my entire life for you.”

“Should I quit?” I asked.
Dancing with the Stars
was a huge financial blessing for us. “Should I walk away from the show—and our income—to make sure you have peace of mind? Is it even right for you to ask me to do that?”

“No need for you to quit, because I’m moving back to Seattle,” she said. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m not going to sit in the front row with your mom and dad, while I watch you out there dancing your heart out. It feels like you’ve put this show ahead of our relationship, and I just don’t want to be a part of it anymore. I can’t,” she said. “I won’t.

I was stuck. And it didn’t help that when I finally had the chance to spend time with Catherine, reporters were everywhere.

That’s the thing about Los Angeles. No matter where I went, paparazzi showed up. It was amazing how they could find out our location. Had our government hired the Los Angeles paparazzi to find Osama bin Laden, they would’ve quickly had a multipage spread of candid photos under the headline “Grooming Habits of the World’s Most Wanted.”

Even though our dance studio had tight security, every single day there were six to eight photographers standing outside all day looking for the shots. That didn’t bother me compared to how they hounded me in my off hours. When Catherine and I tried to steal away for dinner, the paparazzi somehow found out and stalked us. Every single time we flew, we were followed by photographers at LAX.

“How do these people know our schedule?” I asked Catherine.

Magazines started publishing those photos, accompanying articles under headlines such as, “Trouble in Paradise?” or, “Are They Gonna Work Out?” Then there was the familiar standby, “Can You Really Find Love on a Reality TV Show?”

When I saw those headlines, I laughed. “Look at this,” I said to Catherine, hoping she’d laugh too. In my heart, however, the magazine headlines really bothered me because they touched on a truth I didn’t want to admit.

Of course, I never shared any of my hesitation or personal doubt with anybody. When reporters asked me about how things were going, I had the same answer. “Don’t believe the rumors. Everything’s great with us.”

And I hoped one day, this would be true again.

About that time, I was invited to be on
Jimmy Kimmel
. Since I’d been on his show three times, I was excited to be invited again. Jimmy’s great, and I love his sense of humor. When I got there, the producers prepped me beforehand.

“Now, Jimmy might bring up the ‘virgin bachelor’ thing,” one producer said. “So be ready.”

“Really?” I said. “I figured he might want to talk about
Dancing with the Stars
.”

“We don’t know,” he said. “Jimmy sometimes goes his own direction. You can’t predict what he’ll say.”

When I went on stage, sex—or lack of it—was the only thing Jimmy wanted to talk about. Since I’d expected a light, fun show, I tried to laugh along with him. In my head, though, I was thinking,
Come on, man, really?

He didn’t relent. Like everyone else, he couldn’t believe that we had decided to wait until marriage for sex. But unlike everyone else, he had me on live television grilling me over the topic. Again and again and again.

Catherine smiled from her place in the fifth row, but I wondered how long those fake smiles could last.

I was quiet when I left the show. No one would’ve made jokes—or even found it noteworthy—had I been some sort of playboy, bedding women left and right. But once I said I wanted to live by basic Christian principles, people thought I was different, weird, and strange.

Matt picked up on my silence really fast. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know he was going to pound you that whole time.”

But I wasn’t mad at Jimmy. I was mad that no one would give it a rest. Every interview was all about sex, all the time.

When week 7 of
DWTS
arrived, Peta and I were assigned the rumba, a steamy Cuban dance that demands chemistry. She instructed me, “You have to pretend you’re in love with me.”

“How can I do that when I don’t have romantic feelings toward you?” I asked. My throat tightened. Would this be the week that I’d finally be sent home? It’s hard enough when you are doing the fox-trot. I knew the rumba, designed for lovers, would be hard to pull off.

“I have an idea,” she said. “Let’s get Catherine in here to dance with you. I can watch and see what it looks like when you are dancing with someone you love. Then, maybe we can fake it onstage when it’s you and me.”

Every part of me knew this was a bad idea, but I had no other options. Now that Catherine and I were having a few relationship issues ourselves, would she be willing to come in and try to dance with me? I had no other option but to ask, and—to my surprise—she agreed.

When Catherine arrived at the studio, she gave me a kiss. I could tell she was very uncomfortable. Suddenly, she was in a studio surrounded by people she didn’t know. I, however, was in my element. I knew the studio, producers, dancers, and sound techs well. This rehearsal was a case of two worlds colliding, and it was hard for everyone.

“Okay, so let me see you two dance,” Peta said. There’s nothing worse than being told to be romantic on cue—especially with the undercurrent of unhappiness bubbling right under the surface. We made it through the awkward rehearsal.

And honestly, Peta’s gimmick to get me to practice with Catherine actually worked. Holding Catherine in my arms made everything feel right in the world. Even though it was a tough time, I knew we were meant to be.

When it came time to perform, I was a ball of nerves. However, I glanced out in the audience. Catherine smiled and waved, trying to be as supportive as possible. When it was all over, the judges said my performance was great, and pointed out—once again—that I’d improved. Though I was up against a lot of naturally athletic people and others involved in show business, I felt like I was holding my own. At least I was out there giving it a try. And so, I lived to dance another day. But at what cost to our fragile, new relationship?

The next week, it felt like the world sat on my shoulders. Not only had my relationship with Catherine strained past the point of comfort, but I also had to learn two dances. I always had trouble remembering all the steps, so we had to practice more than twice as much. By the end of the week, I had every foot placement down pat. I took a deep breath when we went out onto the floor. But when the music started, I simply forgot what I was supposed to be doing. After I messed up our first dance, I was a head case.