THE CHARM OFFENSIVE (Book Review)

By Alison Cochrun

 

 

(Atria, 2021)

 

I’ve watched too many seasons of both “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette.” 

 

I will try to redeem myself by saying I’ve stopped. Haven’t watched for several years. I can thank Colton Underwood. He was a football player who never quite made the NFL and was a contestant on a season of “The Bachelorette” but ultimately got sent home in the rejection limo. Then they made him guy women would woo on “The Bachelor.” I bowed out. The guy was incredibly dull and I didn’t want to watch a whole season that would focus on the fact he was supposedly a virgin. As it turns out, he was gay.

 

Alison Cochrun’s The Charm Offensive is a gay romance set during a hetero-focused season of “The Bachelor.” Correction: a season of the fictional show “Ever After” which is different in name only plus a few cosmetic tweaks. Cochrun’s reality show plays up the fairy tale factor more blatantly with Charles Winshaw being the show’s Prince Charming who actually wears a crown to meet twenty prospective princesses. What’s shocking—SHOCKING!—is that Charlie hasn’t gone on the show to find love. He’s a wealthy tech genius who got booted from his own company and is trying to rebuild his reputation so he can re-enter the field. 

 

Because geeky tech companies in the Silicon Valley seek hunky Prince Charmings. Surely that’s on the job posting for app creators and game designers. Maybe the way to take a chunk out of Facebook (or that stupid “Meta” rebrand) is to hire a figurehead who’s easier on the eyes than Mark Zuckerberg. It’s possible. I know nothing about tech.

 

The fact Charlie isn’t looking for love doesn’t sit well with Dev Deshpande, an “Ever After” producer assigned to manage its star. Dev’s been with the show for six years, having watched it since he was ten, fully enrapt with the idea that people can go on the show, fall in love and live happily ever after. Even though most of the relationships don’t last, Dev is still married to the idea that the show offers the potential of everlasting love. As the new season begins, Dev’s trying to build himself up again too, having recently ended his six-year relationship with Ryan, another producer on the show. Ryan had always said he wasn’t looking for longterm; Dev just chose to believe he could will his own ever-after onto them. 

 

Charlie is an awkward reality star. He’s got the good looks—blond and impossibly handsome—but he can barely form a sentence under pressure and his OCD makes him reticent to human touch, a huge problem on a dating show with multiple women vying for his attention and affection. 

 

The book becomes more implausible than the show upon which it’s based when Dev ends up working 24/7 by living in the same house as Charlie. (What kind of employment contract did Dev sign?) Jules, Dev’s best friend who also works on the show, suggests that Dev get Charlie to relax more on the filmed dates with the women contestants by taking Charlie on practice dates—not between Jules and Charlie, but between Dev and Charlie. 

 

Um, what? 

 

Charlie goes along with it because, well, isn’t that what any ridiculously good-looking straight guy in his late twenties will agree to do so he can improve upon dating women whom he’s not really interested in falling in love with? 

 

Are you following? If it seems nonsensical then, yes, you’re following.

 

Just go with it. I managed to. I’m telling myself it’s because reading The Charm Offensive was my way of getting another taste of “The Bachelor” without committing to a whole maddening season of cat fights, limo cries and icky Fantasy Suite dates where we’re led to believe the guy has three consecutive nights of sex with the final three women. God, I really watched that show. Season after season. And somehow it made me believe in the possibility of love. Shame on me.

 

Cochrun’s Charlie has anxiety in addition to OCD. He’s also not sure about his sexuality and parts of his journey to figuring that out feel like information dumping as possibilities are explained to him (and the reader). It didn’t bug me since Cochrun chose to bring something different to the romance genre. She ups things by making it so that Dev also deals with mental health issues. Being as I have mental health challenges too, I welcome seeing this in the main characters instead of in a supporting character. (The story progresses in alternating chapters, told in third person, from Dev’s point of view and then Charlie’s point of view.)

 

Cochrun takes liberties from reality in having every “Ever After” staff member be queer other than its creator. All the queer employees have something good about them. The straight character is a villain. I never got a feel for any of the supporting characters. I expected Dev’s ex to have more of a storyline, playing on the inherently awkward circumstance of Dev and Ryan continuing to work together after a not-so-great breakup. Ryan is only used to advance the plot instead of to create conflict. This felt like a wasted opportunity. The story, as written, is all about Charlie and Dev.

 

You can guess how things go. It’s a gay romance, folks. Happily ever after is how these stories have to end. Knowing this, it felt like the story went on longer than it needed to. Cochrun had to stick with the show’s structure, with the group of twenty women getting narrowed down to one over two months’ time. Connections happened too soon and the ensuing barriers, miscommunications and jealousies seemed trivial. There’s nothing particularly wrong with The Charm Offensive; I just wanted to get to the predictable ending fifty pages sooner. 

 

The book is better than “The Bachelor” because it’s willing to acknowledge that a dating show about finding love may not actually be about finding love. Stick with romance books instead. 

 

 

GUILTY PLEASURE: THE BACHELORETTE

How is it that the American public broke up with reality show "Joe Millionaire", but "The Bachelor/Bachelorette" keeps cranking out seasons and hot tub spinoffs? The concept: a man or woman shops from a pool of twenty-five attractive, "successful" single candidates in search of someone who will propose or be proposed to after three or four one-on-one dates. Weird? Sure. But then there are the group dates. Creepy. The host gets paid something in the bygone-Joe range to say little more than "Ladies/Gentlemen,...the final rose" and "Minnie/Mickey, take a moment to say your goodbyes." And then there are the icky handwritten invitations from the host, encouraging the Bachelor(ette) and his/her final three to spend the night in the Fantasy Suite. Not all at once, but over consecutive nights. Still mighty sleazy.

I should hate this show. It's drivel. It's beneath me. Heck, it's beneath my dog.

And yet I love it. Well, maybe "love" is too strong. Sticking with the show's lingo, I'm starting to really have feelings for it.

Oh, how can I justify the time wastage? To be fair, I multitask to reality shows, especially during the frequent commercials and all the "Coming up..." clips that precede these commercials, the creation of producers who fear that viewers' attention spans will drift elsewhere. (Guess they've got a good take on the target audience.) As the show airs on Monday nights, I have the easiest-of-the-week versions of Sudoku and the The New York Times Crossword to trick my mind into thinking I'm a brainiac. I also sort through piles of papers that have mysteriously taken up floor space since the last "Bachelorette". And, if I am really restless, there's always dusting. (After they cure cancer and the common cold, I hope they get to work on extinguishing dust. By golly, give them a decade's worth of Nobel Prizes.)

Whoa. "The Bachelorette" and the Nobel Prize in the same post. Seems I've strayed.

The multitasking argument doesn't hold up. Why not clean while watching more highbrow fare such as--let me check the TV schedule--"Gossip Girl" or four consecutive episodes of "Cake Boss"?

The truth is I can relate to "The Bachelorette". There, I said it.

Years ago, I had plenty of single friends, gay or female. We would go for dinner, grab a coffee, walk the seawall and talk about our dating dilemmas. Or non-dating dilemmas. Each encounter, each brush-off had entertainment value, but the talks also allowed us to comfort and commiserate. And, to prevent each of us from hitting rock bottom, the other would add a timely, "What about so and so?" to keep hope alive.

Yep, good times.

But the single friends have gotten married or they live in far off exotic places like Boise or they've taken dating off the conversation menu. Now I go it alone.

And that explains my loyalty to "The Bachelor(ette)". People can speculate all they want about how real the show is. What I see is people getting excited about possibilities. This could be the one. Casting aside the over the top gimmicks (Anyone want to buy a mask on eBay?), there are relatable awkward dates and promising encounters between the dating world's walking wounded. And after each inane rose ceremony, there's the castoff's painful limo ride where an eager producer sits off camera with a box of Kleenex.

Watching any Reject Ride, I feel I am not alone in being alone. Turns out others feel the same--not just the unrequited wooer, but many a viewer. As I clicked over to ABC's website, I discovered you can watch past episodes or simply the ouster segments, entitled "The Diaries of the Departed".

There's Lucas, the cool, reserved Texan: "Rejection's never fun but...you always look for that better day."

And Ryan, the excitable, optimistic water heater expert: "I'm shocked. Um, uh,...hey, you know,...sometimes I guess people don't feel it. Now I want someone more than you have any i-- (choking up) I want to find that person....Someday."

Last night it was preppy, wordsmith Ames: (Covers eyes, hands shaking; recovers) "I feel pretty numb. I've fallen in love with somebody who clearly didn't fall in love with me back. And...I just wonder, you know, what it was. I was really excited to see what was gonna happen between the two of us next. And that's something I'm never going to get to know. I was just hoping to share a lifetime of adventures with this beautiful woman. Now I'm back to sharing a lifetime of adventures with myself...which is, uh...less enticing."

Oh, boys, I can relate. Ames, I'm choking up myself. Less enticing indeed.

There, I've done it. I think. I've justified my addiction to "The Bachelor(ette)".

Haven't I?

Just One Look

I've forgotten what it's like. Oh, I have an image, but it's from all those romantic comedies that I'm a sucker for watching on The Women's Network. What's it like to have someone look at you, as if you matter, as if in that moment, you're everything?

I saw it today. But I was a mere observer. There, in line to get coffee, a woman pointed to a particular muffin behind the glass and touched the man's arm. He gave her that look of longing. The look that says How did I get so lucky? and What would I do if you ever left me? And then she left. For the bathroom. The man stood dazed for a moment, part of his identity snapped out from under him. He seemed to give himself an invisible shake, like a dog coming out of the lake, and then smiled while gazing at the menu board. She'll be back.

Of course, there's a good chance I could have gotten the scene all wrong. I'm rusty. Like a 1988 Buick that's gone through too many winters in Kapuskasing. What do I know anymore? The woman may have pointed to the muffin, insistent that he order the one with the biggest chocolate chunks and DEFINITELY not another low-fat pastry as he'd foolishly done last time. You do remember what happened, don't you? And just to make sure he did, when she touched him, she pulled a few arm hairs. He looked into her eyes, thinking When will you ever let it go? and Why don't you just leave me...again? This time I won't beg you to take me back. And she was gone. A short bathroom break. A reprieve. He stood in a stupor for a few seconds, as if adjusting to the light peeking through a sky of ominous dark clouds. He smiled as he took in the other patrons, the activity behind the counter. She's gone...at least for now.

But having watched all those Meg Ryan movies and having shaken that nagging inner voice that told me I wasn't supposed to watch The Women's Network, I always see the former scenario. True love...meant to be...perfect match...our Kraft Dinner looks so good on the wedding china...blah, blah, blah. (Only not so blah at all.)

Even in my days frequenting coffeehouses and bars in West Hollywood, that kind of look directed at me was a rarity. In the movies—heck, even on TV commercials—, it's so easy. Grab a grocery cart, linger in the frozen pizza aisle and he sees you. There's that melting moment. Eyes lock. We can't see it, but two hearts simultaneously experience a stronger thump-thump. Goosebumps spread across at least one person's arms—and it's not on account of opening the freezer window to grab a pint of Häagen-Dazs. And then it's over. As he rolls his cart by, the oversized package of Pampers says it all. But that moment—oh, what a moment! I know it's not real, but maybe that's the reason I have to dash to the store every day. Needing more soy milk or a bunch of bananas is a façade for what I really need.

It doesn't even have to be a romantic, eyes-sparkling exchange. I'd take a look of lust, even an unwanted ogle at this point. Something to affirm that I exist, not as a dog owner or a customer with a wallet, but as a gay man. Coming out took years—in many respects, it continues to be a work in progress. And now I'm not sure what it was all for. I no longer exist as a sexual being. Aside from a couple of twenty-year-old baristas, I haven't noticed a gay man in my community in months. My gaydar isn't broken; it's just in storage along with my peach band-collar Girbaud shirt and my baggy jeans, waiting to come back in style. Single gay men in rural areas should get some sort of protected status. It feels like I'm that last Dodo—clumsy, flightless, stunned to find myself alone.

In order to survive, species must gauge their habitat and move on if survival in one environment comes into doubt. Yet I'm still here. House unsold despite radical slashes to the asking price. I've given up on the online dating sites. No point really. You're from where?! So many gay men in Vancouver won't leave their own neighbourhood, be it the West End or Commercial, to venture across town. To think of a potential life partner being a ferry ride away is too great a stretch of the word potential. Not gonna happen.

And so I trim the hedges and get new windows installed. The ocean view is that much greater with the broken seal removed. I had dreamed of someone standing beside me, taking in the natural beauty, someone laughing at me after I step onto the deck and jerk to the left to avoid the kamikaze hummingbird intent on taking my eyes out. (Yes, that happened last night. But the sole witness can only bark.)

I wait. Life is on hold.

It's a bad TV night. Must stop watching "The Bachelorette". Must stop thinking how sweet (and perfectly natural) it is that five guys say they're falling for Ali. Must stop admiring a woman who gave up her job and her apartment to find love—she reminds of this every week, no? Must realize that kissing five different guys and carrying on speed dating conversations is not the path to love at all. Just a chance for eye candy in swimsuits.

I'll probably pop in my copy of "When Harry Met Sally", feel Meg's pain when she realizes Joe was never going to be the one, feel her joy when Sally and Harry find each other again on New Year's Eve and then experience my own hangover while walking the dogs, keeping an eye out for coyotes...and rogue birds. What's it like to be wanted, to be desired…even if for a moment?