Why “The Steve Harvey Show” Rejected Me [Diary of the Undateable]

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    Posted in Dating, Love

diary of the undateable

Last Saturday evening, I took a much-needed break from filling out job applications and refreshing my ed2010 tab to check my Twitter timeline. It was the usual – thirst trap, thirst trap, funny meme, humble brag, thirst trap – except for one particular retweet from one particular person. Not sure if you’ve been reading, but I kind of have a thing for actor Michael Ealy. He’s seriously one of the most beautiful men that I’ve ever seen…but besides the good looks, he’s an awesome actor and has a brilliant mind. Michael is Bae in my head – never mind the fact that he’s married.

I actually met him a while back. He did a presser at my alma mater for “Think Like a Man,” and I was able to cover it on behalf of CollegeCandy. My insides froze when he looked at me. And smiled. And answered my question. And touched my hand. For like eight seconds. But I digress. Michael opened up a Twitter account that very day because we told him about all of the social media trolls impersonating him. I promptly followed him and though he’s not a member of #teamfollowback, I still enjoy his tweets and things.

Anyway, he retweeted a link from “The Steve Harvey Show.” It was a call for essays from Michael Ealy’s Biggest Fan. “How would you like to look directly into those bedroom eyes? It can happen, right here on the Steve Harvey show!” Girl, I was SOLD. A chance to reunite with Bae once again was NOT about to be passed up. I wrote my short-but-sweet essay in a matter of minutes, emphasizing the right points and using the most effective adjectives to properly punctuate my thirst. I uploaded a photo as requested and submitted my material. 30 seconds later, I realized that I was in over my head. I never win anything – except for that one time in the third grade where I got tickets to “Barney on Ice” from Kroger because I was the only one in the store who entered the raffle, but whatever – so why should I get excited? I forgot about the contest soon after and went back to my apps.

The next day, I was headed home to Brooklyn by taxi after a long, hot, expensive and smelly MegaBus ride from D.C. As I watched the meter hit $20, I received a call from someone in Illinois. Weird. I don’t know many people from there. Intrigued, I answered the call. “Hi, is this Khalea? I’m Jamie from ‘The Steve Harvey Show!’ You seem like a huge Michael Ealy fan.”

OMG OMG OMG. I couldn’t believe that they actually called and actually read my essay. I knew I only had a few minutes to win Jamie over, so I really hammed it up – I giggled incessantly, said “OMG” like 36 times and gushed about my love and my respect and my adoration for my Bae.

“Wow. This all sounds great! One thing, though – are you in a relationship? Or talking to anyone? I think the angle of the episode will feature a fan who’s committed to someone but still has a thing for Michael, you know?”

No. No, Jamie, I didn’t know. I’m not in a relationship. I’m not talking to anyone. No boos in my inbox. No good morning texts. No dates. No prospects. No nothing. It’s a dry spell. But I couldn’t let my single status stop me from meeting the married man of my dreams.
“I mean, not really. But everyone that really knows me knows how much I love him! He’s my screensaver on my phone. ON MY PHONE!” I pleaded.

She told me that though the producers would probably stick with their original pitch, she still wanted me to make a brief video about why I love Bae and told me to include a few family members who could attest to the fact. “I’ll text you from my cell – just send it that way!” she instructed before hanging up.

As soon as I got home, my little sister and I started shooting – she agreed to help me if I promised to take her with me. I checked my phone every five minutes for Jamie’s text, falling asleep with my phone in my hand.

I’m sure y’all can guess the rest. Jamie slow faded me. She ghosted. Poof. My chances of meeting Bae once again were lost to someone who’s winning doubly – she has a man and she’s meeting my man.

There’s really no moral to this story or a lesson to take away from it. Just another reason why being single really effing sucks sometime. PS – I’m never watching The Show That Must Not be Named Again.

When she’s not watching for Blue Ivy sightings or doing some serious Facebook creeping, Khalea moonlights as a print journalism major at the REAL HU, Howard University. Follow her on Twitter at @letsbeKHAlear, or feel free to Twatch. Whatever works for you.

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