For the Right Reasons (34 page)

As the episodes were aired, the ratings climbed. The first episode’s ratings were so-so, because it debuted on the same night as the college football national championship game. (I confess—even I flipped back and forth.)
However, every week the ratings increased. Very consistently, we gained audience members every week until we reached between ten and twelve million.
People
magazine came out with a special
Bachelor
issue, which detailed America’s “favorite bachelors.” I was pleased I handily won—with 68 percent of the vote.

When I saw that magazine article, I thought back to those days when I was in the insurance office with Andrew, and we were nervous as to whether I would make it on the show. My biggest fear was that I didn’t want to go home the first night. It was amazing how far I’d come.

With my newfound notoriety, I began getting opportunities to be on other television shows. This gave me financial opportunities that dwarfed those in insurance sales. With a soon-to-be-wife and—hopefully—family, I needed seriously to consider each opportunity. However, I was mindful that I didn’t want to get into the reality TV rut, which would propel me into a series of diminishing opportunities—each show being less prominent than the last. I didn’t want to take every opportunity that came along.

“Your phone is about to start ringing,” Mary Kate said after seeing our amazing ratings. “You should only take big opportunities.”

When I proposed to Catherine in the finale, everyone was so supportive. Suddenly, we were able to be seen together in public, and—best of all—she could wear her ring. We immediately were plunged into the post-
Bachelor
media circuit. I can’t remember when it first happened, but some reporter—out of all the reporters I talked to—asked me an obvious question.

“So are you and Catherine waiting until marriage for sex?”

The reporter knew I was a Christian. Though it was hardly mentioned on the show—only vague references to faith—people knew that my faith had caused me to conduct myself differently on the show. In an interview even before my season started, Chris Harrison told
US Weekly
that I was looking for “a lady: someone who respects herself and her family. It’s not a crazy, ‘let’s get drunk, let’s get naked’ type of season because that’s not Sean.”
⁷
In other words, the reporter knew the answer before he asked, but wanted to grab headlines with
Sex. Sex. Sex!

Maybe I should’ve dodged the question. After all, it was personal. I
think people would’ve understood had I told him it was none of his business. Because I’m not ashamed of my faith, I answered honestly, and everything changed. My original goal was to downplay sex in our relationship—to put it in its appropriate place: marriage. This one question, however, had the opposite effect. Now every reporter in every conversation—television or print—brought it up. In every interview, I knew it was coming up.

Originally, it was: “Are you going to wait until marriage to have sex?”

Do we have to talk about this again?
I would think.
You’ve already heard my answer from a million other sources. Why are you asking me again?

After weeks of repeatedly being asked that question, even the reporters couldn’t pretend not to know the answer. Then savvy reporters asked a mutation of that question: “Why have you made that decision?” When that got old, it was, “What do you think about how reporters constantly ask you about your decision not to have sex until marriage?”

There was no way to escape it.

Suddenly, I was on multiple magazine covers. Even actual celebrities couldn’t match the number of times I was on tabloids at the grocery store. When I was on the cover of
US Weekly
, it was the best-selling edition in a fifteen-week period. But the magazine Catherine and I were most excited about was
People
. When they invited us to have our own cover story celebrating our engagement, it was like our engagement announcement to the world—the first inside look at our lives together. We had a blast doing a photo shoot dedicated to the cover.

The big, bold headline superimposed over our photograph, however, was a little jarring: “Waiting for Our Wedding Night: No Sex Until ‘I Do.’ ”

I hated that everyone wanted to talk about how I was the “born-again virgin bachelor,” a phrase I never had used before in my life. First of all, I’d already made the mistake and had been sexually active. But I’d learned from my mistakes. I’m a Christian. Because of my faith, I no longer lived selfishly and didn’t do many things that might tempt me—I wouldn’t rob a bank if I lacked money. I wouldn’t murder someone if I got angry. Not having sex until marriage was not the defining aspect of my life or personality. Rather, it simply was the one that garnered the most headlines.

One day, I got a call from my manager, Matt. “I’ve got bad news.”

“What is it?” I asked. I definitely didn’t want any bad news. Everything had been going so well, other than having to deal with the sex-obsessed media attention.

“You’re gonna have to learn how to dance.”

“You mean for the wedding?”

“No,” he said. “You’ve just been asked to be on
Dancing with the Stars
!”

This was one of the shows Mary Kate had indicated would be “big” enough to justify my participation. As Matt explained the structure of the contract and the pay, which involved a base pay with incentives each week I survived the vote, I was so excited. Matt also explained the show would provide a furnished LA apartment that allowed dogs—and a rental car. Plus, they offered to get Catherine an apartment so we wouldn’t have to be separated.

“I think it’s a great opportunity,” I told Catherine. “I mean, some people make enough money on the show to buy a house.”

“If you think so . . . ,” Catherine said, but I could tell she was skeptical.

“It’s just a great chance to capitalize a little on
The Bachelor
popularity,” I said. “We’re in the spotlight now anyway. We might as well make a little money and then settle down.”

“Hm,” she said. “I think I could pass on the added spotlight.”

“It’s not the money or the spotlight,” I said. “It’s an amazing experience . . . an experience of a lifetime, really.”

She nodded, seeing my excitement.

“Plus, wouldn’t it be fun to start out our lives together in a place neither of us calls home?” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “It will just be you and me, starting out together in a new place.”

“I’m not sure how it will work out logistically,” she said. “But yeah! I can see it.”

“We can handle it.” I smiled. “We just need to figure out a plan.”

Our strategy was that I’d move to Los Angeles and begin rehearsals. Catherine would wrap up her job in Seattle and relocate to Los Angeles so we could spend as much time together as possible.

My involvement with the show was all very hush-hush, because they weren’t ready to reveal my participation in the show quite yet.

When I moved to Los Angeles, I was assigned Peta Murgatroyd as my professional dance partner. Raised in Australia, she was easy to be around, and I could tell that she would be patient with me as I tried to learn the dances. Peta and I met in studios all over Los Angeles to keep the paparazzi off our trail.

What I didn’t know—but quickly figured out—was that dancing is hard. Our first dance was the fox-trot, and Peta taught me how to move my hips in a figure-eight pattern. Or at least she tried. The whole thing felt odd to me.

“Now hold your arm up, but slightly bent,” she said. It was awkward at first. There was so much to remember that it made those six sentences of pickups pale in comparison. I practiced eight to ten hours a day and talked to Catherine every night.

One evening, I was exhausted—but I noticed Catherine wasn’t very talkative.

“Everything okay?” I asked. At the time, I was still learning about Catherine—how she handled conflict, how she expressed concern, or how she dealt with problems. Since we had met in a controlled environment, there were many things about her I didn’t know.

I was about to have a crash course.

“Aren’t you spending
a lot
of time learning these steps?”

“Of course I am. I want to do well.”

“Listen, this is just par for the course,” I said. “Everyone is struggling to learn their steps. It’s all so new!”

“I understand,” she said, with a forced cheerfulness. “I hope Peta can teach you some good moves. I’m sure you can do it.”

Catherine’s efforts to be supportive were both sweet and unconvincing. I promised myself to do well. I had to make this financially worth it after
disrupting our new relationship with yet another television show.
Dancing With the Stars
announced me as a last-minute contestant two weeks after they announced the original cast, which included Olympic skater Dorothy Hamill, country singer Wynona Judd, reality TV star Lisa Vanderpump, comedian Andy Dick, NFL wide receiver Jacoby Jones, professional boxer Victor Ortiz, Olympic gymnast Alexandra Raisman, Disney star Zendaya, soap opera star Ingo Rademacher, comedian D. L. Hughley, and country singer Kellie Pickler.

When Catherine arrived, I hoped spending time together would give her more confidence in our relationship. During every ounce of my free time, we hung out and enjoyed getting to know each other. Yes, it was still under unusual circumstances, but at least we didn’t have to keep our love a secret anymore.

I made it through the first week of the show, and then the second. Thankfully, my amazing fans from Bachelor Nation kept pulling me through, even though I could tell the other contestants were better dancers. The third week, something happened that would change our lives forever.

Shortly before our move to Los Angeles, Catherine’s friend Crista gave her life to Jesus. Catherine was certainly entertaining the idea, but she’s definitely one to think long and hard about something before making a decision. One night after a late dance rehearsal, I went to her place and noticed she had a joyful look on her face.

“I have good news,” she said. Ever since our stolen conversation in Thailand, we had talked about faith and God. Catherine seemed to be leaning toward belief in God, though she didn’t really have a personal faith of her own. For some reason, I had a peace about her. On the night before I proposed, I knew—without a doubt—that Catherine was on a journey. But not the overused, stereotypical “journey” of
The Bachelor
. Rather, I knew she was making her way toward Christ—the ultimate journey anyone can take.

“I understand now what you’ve been saying,” she said, holding up her new Bible. “I accepted Jesus into my heart!”

I hugged her as she told me how she came to that decision. It wasn’t rash, it wasn’t rushed, and she didn’t do it for me. Catherine is someone who thinks for herself, and she was on cloud nine after telling me. After that night, she couldn’t get enough of church and Jesus. She’s been that way ever since.