I’m not disappointed, either. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Does it sound believable? I mean, did finding out I was going to be on the show feel like the beginning of the rest of my life? Absolutely. Did I immediately quit my job since I don’t have the PTO? Sure. But there are no guarantees in this life. I know that, now.
It’s not like I’ve been applying to be on the show since before I was legally eligible. I’ve never lightly stolen anyone’s identity to nominate myself for it. And there’s no evidence that I’ve fabricated anything about my life in order to appeal to producers.
And I definitely haven’t been banned from two gyms, one ropes course, and the laser tag section of an arcade for using equipment to train for obscure physical challenges. Those viral news clips you’re thinking of, that’s someone else. Although I have broken the same tailbone as that guy.
It’s not like I binge the show on loop and can quote entire episodes verbatim. And no one has ever caught me studying past seasons’ logos, twists, or product placements. It’s not like I have binders for this. In a dedicated closet. Who would do that?
I don’t own a collection of over 117 comically large puzzles that I keep in a block of overpriced storage units. And if I did, I wouldn’t be tracking my completion times in a spreadsheet. Also, security has never dragged me out of a social sciences seminar screaming a question about jury management. I wish people would stop sharing those clearly AI-generated videos with me.
And I wasn’t shushed on the flight there for singing every instruments’ part of the theme song from memory. There’s no footage of me counting the steps up the film studio’s staircase in case it came up in a challenge. I didn’t feel the most alive I’ve ever felt in my life when the host introduced me by name. There were no tears, none! None.
My family would probably tell you I’m taking this whole thing pretty hard since the show is my “whole personality.” But that is the furthest thing from the truth. This show is my whole personality, so I’m just grateful. Grateful for the time I got to breathe the same air as some of my favorite previous contestants, even if that time was shorter than my flight there.
But again, it’s not like I’ve devoted my whole life to training for this. I’m just a so-called superfan. So I work extra shifts at Christmas every year to pay for VIP tickets to meet past contestants on an unofficial unaffiliated cruise. People do crazier things. I don’t have a cardboard cutout of the host or anything. Are those back in stock?
And even if I was known as a regular at the ER for practicing extreme fasting and had done all those other things, it totally would’ve been worth it for the chance to be on my favorite show of all time for three hours and lose the vote to someone who applied on a whim and who mispronounced the mascot’s made-up name twice and who kind of made fun of the whole thing. I’d have no regrets. Would you? Seriously, would you?
Well, I’m going to go stare at a wall. Not because I’m mad, and definitely not because I’m crying. If a producer calls and asks if I want to appear on another season, tell them… please, yes.