How Life's Unexpected Setbacks Can Lead to Unexpected Joy

What a Difference a Year Makes: How Life's Unexpected Setbacks Can Lead to Unexpected Joy
by Bob Guiney

The next star of ABC's The Bachelor, and the funny guy who stole America's heart on The Bachelorette shares hard-earned advice and wisdom on how life's unexpected setbacks can lead to unexpected joy.

One Thanksgiving weekend Bob Guiney came home to find a white Post-it(tm) note from his wife informing him that she wanted a divorce. On top of his broken heart, he suffered a series of physical injuries, gained forty pounds, and fell into a deep depression. For the first time in his life, he found himself at rock bottom, unsure of how to pick up the pieces.

What a Difference a Year Makes looks, month-by-month, at a devastating year and the wise words and lessons drawn from uncles, aunts, parents, and his best friend: Grandma. "On paper," he writes, "I looked like a failure-no football career, no music career, and a divorce. But actually I'm doing better than I ever have in my life."

With the honesty and humor that have made Bob America's favorite bachelor, he explores the simple but valuable life lessons that helped him return to vitality and optimism. The result is a witty and warm book that will touch and inspire anyone who has ever suffered a broken heart.

February

Sometimes what feels like an end is actually a beginning.
And that's when the real work starts.

On a crisp winter evening in February, I came home from a weekend trip to Arizona hoping to find my wife. Instead I found a sticky note on the countertop. The message on the note, written in my wife's hand, basically informed me that our marriage was over. I was so upset that I thought the note was signed "J."-not even her full name, was my impression at the time, though I would find out later that I was wrong. That memory of the note struck me as painfully intimate but at the same time shockingly distant.

I had spent the weekend with my buddy Scott Leuchter on a golf course in Scottsdale. I couldn't play much because of a recent "re-twist" of my knee, which was already tender from surgery the previous year, but I had fun riding around in the cart. It was a luxury cart, and it was actually able to pick up some serious speed. As great a time as I was having, I was looking forward to returning home to Jennifer. We had gone through a rough patch in our marriage and had been separated for some time, but we were trying to work things out. I was counting the minutes until we'd be together again, and was hoping that she might have moved back into our house while I was away. I had even bought her a little mesh link bracelet at Tiffany as a surprise gift to try to "bribe" my way back into her heart.

Now there I was, alone: me, the dark kitchen, the empty house, the sticky note. At the time, I couldn't believe that Jennifer hadn't told me face-to-face. As devastating as her news was, the note made it a hundred times worse. Pathetic as it sounds, I suddenly started crying. I ran through the house as fast as humanly possible, calling out Jennifer's name. And when there was no answer, it drove home the reality that she was truly gone.

I composed myself enough to call Jennifer's cell phone. There was no answer, but I kept trying. I must have left twenty messages in the span of an hour. She had left a time for us to talk, but I just couldn't wait that long.

I finally collapsed on the living-room couch where Jennifer and I had snuggled together on Sunday mornings. Now, in Jennifer's place beside me sat the pale blue Tiffany box. I was limp with exhaustion, grief, and shock. I remembered the first time I saw her. I was a senior in college, and she walked into Bennigan's, the bar where I had worked since my sophomore year. I loved that job. I met gorgeous women every day, but when Jennifer walked in, I fell in love on the spot. I had already seen her around, driving a convertible, but I doubted she'd seen me. She had dark hair and porcelain skin and incredible blue eyes. She walked up to me.

"Hi," she said. She blushed slightly-I got the feeling she was shy. "I'm looking for a summer job. Are you hiring?"

"Let me have a word with the boss," I said calmly, and then walked into the back room, where I clutched my hands in front of the manager and begged, "The most beautiful woman just walked in looking for work! You have to hire her!"

"Does she have hostessing experience?" he asked.

"Who cares!"

"Is she of age to work in a bar?"

"Yes...I don't know. But I think I'm in love."

He sighed, then put a cigarette between his lips, lit up, and inhaled deeply.

"Fine," he said. "Tell her when training starts."

So she was hired. We got to spend a lot of time together, and I was moved by her kindness. She listened patiently to the stories of the old drunks who came early in the afternoon to sit at the bar, and she had a soft spot for my music and poetry. She seemed a little naïve, but also very independent. It's a combination a lot of guys find attractive-you want to take care of her even though you know she can take care of herself.

One weekend we loaded up my Jeep and drove eight hours to western Pennsylvania, where my family owns some land. We had great fun hiking and mountain biking through the foothills, and spent some time with my Uncle Al, who insisted on cooking us burgers on his famous garbage-burning grill. The problem-other than the smell of burning garbage-was that Jennifer was a vegetarian. She rolled with it, though, and showed me that she wasn't just a pretty face-she was a trooper. During that trip, I think we both realized that the relationship had serious potential.

* * *

When the appointed hour finally rolled around and Jennifer called back, it was close to midnight. The moment I heard her voice, I realized I loved her more than ever.

"Don't do this," I pleaded into the phone.

"I have to," she said. In her eyes, our marriage was over.

"We can work it out," I begged. "We'll make an appointment with one of the counselors." One of the counselors-meaning my therapist or her therapist or the marriage counselor we had seen together. In recent months it seemed as if we had spent more time together in therapists' offices than anywhere else. I had resisted marriage counseling when Jennifer had first suggested it many months earlier (there was something creepy about having a stranger present while you talked about intimate issues with your wife-in my mind, it was like having a Peeping Tom outside your bedroom window while you're making love), but once I started going I realized that therapy could be a good thing. I really thought our young marriage might get stronger because of these sessions.

"There's no point in therapy anymore, Bob," Jennifer said, sighing. "We need to get divorced. Nothing's changed...nothing's better."

"C'mon, honey," I said. "We have to find lawyers before anything can happen. I know tons of guys who are attorneys-I sold advertising to them-if it comes to that." It was a bad habit of mine to automatically put the wants of others before my own at the most inopportune moments, almost as if it could buy me some time. Even as I said I'd help her, I knew how ridiculous I sounded-as if I could really go shopping with her for divorce attorneys the way other married couples went looking for blenders. But I would have done anything just to see her, and I thought if I could see her, I could fix it.

"I've already found a lawyer," she said.

Her words knocked the wind out of me. Just a few hours earlier I had been racing along the freeway from the airport, driving well above the speed limit (as usual) because I couldn't wait for the possibility of spending an evening with my wife, and now I felt like I was still speeding, but in a wild, hopeless way, like I was about to go hurtling off a cliff.

She said we had an appointment with the lawyer the next week and gave me directions to the office. "Please, Bob, will you be there?" she asked.

I was so stunned I couldn't form any words. I choked out something that must have sounded like a yes, because she gently thanked me, said she loved me, and then hung up.

Afterward, I just sat in the dark. I wanted so much to reach over and turn on a light so I could see our wedding picture sitting on the mantel, but I was scared that if I did I would discover that Jennifer had taken it down before she left. I wanted to cry, but I felt as if I had squeezed out every last tear. Later, when I saw that the photo was still there, it honestly made me even more sad. In my mind, it meant she didn't want any memories from our wedding.

Copyright © Robert Guiney, published by Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., all rights reserved, reprinted with permission from the publisher.

About the Author

Bob Guiney, known as the funny guy from ABC's The Bachelorette, may not have won the Bachelorette's hand, but he won America's heart. With five appearances in one month on The Oprah Winfrey Show (a record for any guest in the history of the show), Bob will be the next Bachelor on ABC's hit series to air in October and November. He co-owns a branch of a mortgage company in Detroit, Michigan.