Sunday, June 13

So...I'll probably lose all 3 of my followers by telling you this...

Reader, sit right down and your dear aunt Ashlee will tell you the tale of when I asked a millionaire if I could live with him for the summer. Hold on tight, this is not a pretty story.

To begin, I knew this was crazy when I did it, but College BFF Christi tried out for a reality TV show in Chicago, and when I looked at her like she was kind of nuts, she said, “Why not? At least I can say I tried. People can’t make fun of me because they didn’t even try and I did.” This inspired me to try my own crazy, at-least-I-tried thing. Spoiler alert: CBFF is NOT on a reality TV show, and our plans worked out equally well for both of us.

So, I was watching Millionaire Matchmaker on Bravo late one night (a mistake already, I KNOW). Please don’t lose all respect for me yet. By the end of the story, fine; but not yet. If you don’t know what the show is, a 2-sentence explanation: these millionaires hire a professional matchmaker to find classy, non-gold-digger dates for them and they have a mixer where they can’t exchange numbers, then a mini-date with two people of their choice, then one big date with one of those people. Patti (Matchmaker) calls and sees how it went and then we get an update on if they see each other again. It’s like all the fun of Bachelor but not in a freaking long, ridiculously dramatic season. And this really cute guy was on it (Trevor) and he’s from the city right in between where I went to college and where I’m working this summer. I think my mom suggested this jokingly, but of course I got really desperate for a cheap/free place to live this summer and took her suggestion. He’s a Christian, which is a total plus for her. She said I should live with him for the summer and then he would inevitably fall in love with me and I would be set and not have to choose a career (well, I added that career part; I’m sure she expects me to become a fabulously wealthy lawyer even if I marry the prince of Monaco…who IS single, by the way…but that’s beside the point). I did some creepy Internet stalking research and discovered how old he was (26? I legitimately forgot so I can’t be that crazy…OK OK, I still am) and that actually he lives somewhere else but his PARENTS live in the town that Millionaire Matchmaker said he lived in, and that made it better because while he probably wouldn’t let me live with him alone, his parents might be OK with taking in a charity/mental case for two short months. I was home while I saw this, and as I returned to school and my summer living/pay situation got more and more dismal, I got more and more distraught and desperate. So I found him on Facebook and sent him THIS (commentary in italics):

Hello. You don't know me, and even though I don't really know you, I have a very weird question. I'm a senior at *I’m not telling you guys* College, and I have an internship in Fort Wayne this summer, with Senator *So-and-so*'s office. I'm making essentially a pittance, and I can't really afford rent anywhere. And, your family has a big farm in *some Indiana* City. (I know, I know...this already sounds insane as I type it...believe me, I'm aware.)

*I thought admitting it would make it seem less creepy. It didn’t.*

Anyway, I was wondering if, one nice Christian person to another, your family might consider letting me stay with them in *town where they live*, just for the summer.

*Make myself sound respectable and show him already we have something in common.*

I could pay them $100 a month at most. I'm an honest, clean, responsible Christian girl who just needs a place to stay for cheap.

*Lies, all lies. I’m semi-messy, rarely on time, stay up too late and sleep through my alarm—which puts responsible out the window.*

Even though I don't know your family, it's pretty obviously from the very little I know of you that they are wonderful Christian people, so that makes this (only slightly) less scary than finding a roommate on Craigslist.

*See, two birds with one stone: brown-nose AND let him know I’m trying to AVOID crazy…would an insane person really care about avoiding other insane people??*

I could have just gotten their number out of the white pages, but I couldn't decide which way would be creepier--you getting a Facebook message from a total stranger or your parents getting a call from a stranger asking for a place to stay. Unfortunately, I now realize they are BOTH equally creepy.

*Yes they are.*

So, you can completely disregard this message if you find it intrusive and presumptuous, but I'm CLEARLY at the end of my rope here with such a desperate request. On the off chance that you DON'T immediately delete this, and if you would feel more comfortable after meeting me, you can do that

*not that I really want you to meet me and think I’m pretty or anything*; or we can set up a meeting with your parents.

OK, get it out of the way, because I'm sure you're wondering, I DID see you on Millionaire was 1 AM and I was bored...but that's really beside the point.

*No, it’s not. It’s very much THE POINT.*

You just stuck in my head for some reason, maybe because you were so close to *some town where my college is*. Maybe because God wanted me to at least ask for your help (as I'm not always good about that).

*Again with throwing the religion card in there, just in case he had forgotten from a minute ago.*

Please just prayerfully consider it, and thank you for even reading to the end of this message.

*Yeah, BIG assumption there.*

AND, believe it or not, he actually replied: My parents are great people but believe me you don't want to live with them haha....I will let you know if I hear of anything around Columbia City.

I had to add that last period, by the way. While I was just grateful to get a reply and not a restraining order, the more I read it to friends who couldn’t believe the story until I read both messages to them, the more I was like “YOU’RE a millionaire? YOU were on TV as this classy, rich guy and you can’t even use a PERIOD??” And to just throw “haha” in there like it goes with the rest of that sentence…I mean, come ON. Also, it made me unbelievably curious as to what kind of people his parents are to make him say that. Are they conservative? monkish-ly quiet? sheep-humping hicks? Do they decorate their house with clowns? I’ll never know.

Anyway, since then I have met two people who know him and know the family and I told the story to one of them and he thought it was hysterical instead of crazy. Maybe a little crazy, but he mercifully kept that to himself…unlike the other coworkers in the room who immediately mass-texted and Tweeted it and gave me REALLY weird looks for the rest of the day. He said he could picture Trevor saying something like that, and that he was too nice to think it was creepy. And if he doesn’t think I’m unbelievably crazy and disturbed, then clearly he’s not mentally right and it’s a good thing I didn’t live with him this summer. Whew, dodged a bullet on that one.

And that, children, is the story of how your aunt Ashlee ALMOST lived with a millionaire/got her first restraining order.

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