If you’re coming here for your Bachelor recaps, you’re in the wrong place.
No, it’s me. Really. And I’m fine, promise. I want to watch The Bachelor and recap it in all its sad, desperate, tropey, predictable glory, but come on! I need a little help here! Could this season be more boring? Could Arie be more hateable, arrogant, boring, and whiny? Are any of us surprised? Sigh…not really.
Anyway, this whole season has been boring. I don’t even get around to watching the episodes until days after they air. I now fully believe that Krystal is a paid actor. ABC must have known they were in for a dud of a season so they hired someone with the worst voice ever to create unrealistic drama, steal the villain crown right off of Chelsea’s head, and grate on the nerves of EVERYONE IN THE WORLD TO INFINITY.
Krystal, I appreciate the effort, I really do, but even I’m not buying it and I am willing to suspend my disbelief for even the New Jersey Housewives.
I watched half of last night’s episode and was seriously not compelled to write a damn thing except, “Wow, I should try bowling sometime” and “Bekkah does a pretty good imitation of Krystal.” Even Krystal’s big, dumb tantrum didn’t move me.
So I leave you with this image because it really sums up how dumb this season is. Also, watching it with captions on is opening a whole new portal into hell. Especially when the captions say things, IN A HIGH PITCHED VOICE or IN A NORMAL VOICE.
This here is Tia. She’s besties with Raven, the runner-up from Nick’s season. You might remember Raven as the gothy southern girl who almost took her boyfriend out with her stiletto. So, yeah, they breed ’em real special in Arkansas. Weiner, Arkansas to be exact.
Anyway, this here is moments after she she professed her almost love for Arie. So romantic, right?
When I was about 6, I followed my brother into a House of Mirrors at an amusement park. He ditched me about 1.3 seconds later citing some bullshit like, “Oh, I didn’t see you behind me.” Really, dear brother? You couldn’t see me in a HOUSE OF MIRRORS?
I have a terrible sense of direction. If I tell you, “Oh that really good pizza place we liked is right over there!” it’s not. It’s probably not in the same town. Also, if you try giving me directions and say something stupid like “It’s just north of the freeway” I’m going to punch you in the neck. North is up, jackass. Give me some good old-fashioned rights and lefts, okay?
So imagine young Shelly (who often gets lost on an airplane trying to find her seat after a visit to the lavatory) alone in a carnival torture house designed to confuse young children and separate them from their families. Now imagine having to see your horrified little face reflected back 1000x into infinity.
But I’m no dummy. Continued movement would have been futile. It didn’t have 2,945 back issues of Tiger Beat or a Mickey Mouse telephone, but that house of mirrors was my new home. So I plopped down right there and accepted my fate. God, I missed Pepsi and elephant ears.
Four days minutes later, the teenaged ticket-taker told me to get up and walked me seven feet to the exit.
Admittedly, I probably don’t look in a mirror as often as I should, which results in showing up to places with toothpaste dribbled down the front of my shirt or mascara only on one eye. Shit happens. But I’m pretty sure that’s because I’m too lazy to look straight ahead and not permanently scarred from a childhood carnival experience.
Poor Annaliese (“Which one is that?” you ask. “THE BLONDE ONE!” I tell you.) clearly doesn’t have the fortitude to move on from hers.*
Arie, as you know, is our Bachelor (yawn) who happens to be a race car driver (yeah, yeah, Arie, we are soooooooooooooo impressed) and isn’t this guy:
He enjoys showing off his race car driver moves any chance he gets. (Yawn again.) Have you ever wondered how the show comes up with all those clever group dates? Of course you have. Here’s what happens: The producers look over the questionnaires filled out by contestants and look for responses to the WHAT ARE YOU MOST TRAUMATIZED BY? (FEEL FREE TO USE AN ADDITIONAL SHEET OF PAPER) question.
Woe is Annaliese, because this group date had the girls participating in a demolition derby which unearthed her very painful past. You see, when Annaliese was a child some asshat (probably a loving adult!) took her to a carnival (PROBABLY TO HAVE FUN!) and let her ride the bumper cars. GET THIS– OTHER CARS HIT HER CAR! What the what? Who does that??? Watching all those derby cars get all creamed and stuff was just too much for Annaliese to bear. So she had to stand on the sidelines, shaking and sobbing and accepting fake, mannequin-armed hugs from the other girls while her sweaty tears plowed through all that expensive BB cream. And if THAT scene weren’t dramatic enough, the producers reached deep into their bag of “cheap ploys to make it clear we are totally giving up this season” satchel to give us a very special reenactment.
You guys, that is not just a reenactment, but it came with creepy carnival music!
You guys, that is not just a reenactment, THAT IS A SEPIA-TONED REENACTMENT.
It’s like our blurry, pixelated faces were there too!
I AM FEELING HER PAIN! It is DEEP IN MY GUT! Oh no wait, that is just laughter.
Arie tried to be empathetic, telling her she could sit this one out if she really needed to, but if she did decide to participate he’d totally protect her. Maybe later he’d even rub his dumb pillow lips all over her sad, wet face.
And now I’m traumatized because I can’t tell if The Bachelor was seriously trying to get us past the dyed roots and into this woman’s head or if they’re all saying, “F.U. Arie! Your season blows! Let’s just trash the place and burn it down!”
Please God let it be the latter! (EDITOR’S NOTE: It’s totally the latter. I’ve seen the latest episode.)
Are they making fun of themselves?
Even the other girls thought this whole trauma thing was ridiculous. I mean being afraid of swimming pigs, sobriety, or yeast infections is totes normal but bumper cars? Come on, girl! Jenna thought she could knock some sense into Annaliese by repeatedly ramming into her when Ol’ Pillow Lips wasn’t looking, which kind of worked. Annaliese seemed rather aggressive for someone who couldn’t handle a little light jostling in a heavily padded carnival toy car, but whatevs. I’m no shrink.
What else happened? Let’s see:
Krystal–my god– is cray cray and super annoying. For someone who claims to make a living making others, “feel their best feels”, she sure likes making other woman feel angry. It’s pretty much guaranteed that whatever words spoken in her drunk, husky baby voice are going to suck. Even though she already had a rose, she stole Arie away TWICE during the cocktail party. One of those times was right out of Bibiana’s vice grip, seconds before she would have choked Arie out. Dammit, Krystal!
Bibiana cracked, threatened to leave, gave up, sat back down, yelled at Krystal, got up to leave, didn’t talk to Arie, finally talked to Arie, took a Valium, drank a bunch of vodka, bit the head off a bat, drank more vodka, and calmly accepted rose #18 out of 18 from Arie.
Angry Anonymous Blonde #4, #12, and #16 were sent home. Angry Anonymous Blonde #4 didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Arie, which made Arie sad. No one gets out of here without a stiff hug and an extra heaping of televised humiliation.
“Hey, sorry about dumping you. I honestly can’t tell all these blonde girls named Lauren apart and it’s hurting my head.”
“I’m not sad about you dumping me. I’m sad that I have to leave all this free alcohol behind.”
I hear that, Angry Anonymous Blonde #4. Surely the girls are pouring one out in your name.
*You can’t make this shit up. It can and will get worse, I promise.
I watched 45 minutes of The Bachelor while on the treadmill and really I should loose 84 pounds by the time this train wreck of a season is over. It’s…so…hard…to…look…away. But I did. But only because I was so excited TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED IN THE FIRST 3 MINUTES!
First, yes, something AMAZING happens later in the show that I haven’t “officially” gotten to yet, but I totally YouTubed because I heard how good it was. (When your male co-workers seek you out to talk about something that happened on The Bachelor, that is some good TV right there.) And it was. But in the worst possible way. It’s almost like The Bachelor is making fun of itself. Like they’re all, “Well. We’ve pretty much sunk to as low as we can go. Our bachelor is super boring and a solid NYC/LA 5 (Scottsdale 7.5), and no one is going to forgive us for not casting that other guy. Might as well bust out the sepia-toned reenactments to illustrate just how wicked dumb our cast is.”
Yes, Peter, you. It should have been you. WE GET IT!
BUT WE ARE NOT THERE YET.
We are here.
A lovely sunny morning. The girls are half drunk on champagne and rosé all day when Chris Harrison arrived. He gave them this ominous message:
One of you will be Arie’s wife.
There was an audible gasp like they just heard, “4 out of 6 of you will become Restylane-intolerant.” It was almost like a threat, like Chris knew they’d rather grow hermit crab claws and pull out their own eyelash extensions than have to accept Arie’s thoughtfully chosen Neil Lane sparkler. They’re not here for him! They’re here to audition for the next season of The Bachelorette! But Chris reminded them how real this is. If he had to suffer through this season, so did they. Remember your purpose, ladies! You are nothing more than Jabba’s palace dancers in ankle booties and slouchy sweaters. NOW DANCE!
Chris left them with a date card. The girls went ballistic, side-eyeing the shit out of each other and smacking the fresh mimosa off their lips like storm-addled waves hitting the shores of Desperation Island. The first one-on-one date of the season went to Becca K who was whisked off on a motorcycle.
A motorcycle! Egads!
Motorcycles are great because they spark conversational gold like this awesome exchange between Chelsea (villain) and two other girls who are probably named Lauren.
CHELSEA: I’m jealous.
MAYBE LAUREN 1: Yeah.
CHELSEA: I really like the feeling of being behind something that is bigger than me. Like…holding on and stuff.
MAYBE LAUREN 1: Yeah.
MAYBE LAUREN 2: I’m like, totally scared of motorcycles. My dad had a really bad motorcycle accident and I know people who have like lost limbs and things like that.
MAYBE LAUREN 1: Huh.
MAYBE LAUREN 2: If I was on that date, I would have to like, had to tell him…
MAYBE LAUREN 1: It’s good…it’s good that you weren’t.
CHELSEA leans close to MAYBE LAUREN 2 and bit her head off.
Meanwhile… Arie and Becca K ride off to a mysterious mansion where they meet Scooby Doo and some meddling kids. Not really. But they did run into an awful lot of shellfish. Like an ungodly amount.
It was dangling from pedestals three feet in the air. It was clinging to the Carrara marble countertop. It was a bizzaro Hansel and Gretel under the sea. I mean, what kind of budget are working with here, ABC?
It was festooned across Arie’s chin and eventually his lap because no way was he letting that shit go to waste. He’s the God damn Bachelor, America! Not that God damn Peter guy! He may not get the girl, but he’s eating the shit out of some shellfish.
If you think the location of the date was rather random– a really nice house overlooking the water– the actual date activities will really jumble your brain. All 26 pounds of Rachel Zoe popped out from behind a clothing rack (we know she ain’t here for the shellfish)
Becca made like she was going in for a hug, but really she was blinking out distress signals.
I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE HERE WITH HIM. STOP. HE HAS CRABS. LOTS AND LOTS OF CRABS. STOP.
But alas, she stuck around and tried on 136 evening gowns and surprise again! She got to keep them all thanks to Arie. (But really ABC. And Rachel. But okay, Arie, small victory for you.)
I realized this was ABC’s weak attempt to make us like Arie. Like he’s such a gentleman! A true Prince Charming! He’s not here because he’s a D-list fame whore from Scottsdale. He really cares about these girls! He wants to make them feel special! It’s all about the girls. Instead of feel sad because I wonder how tough times have gotten for Rachel Zoe. I used to really like her show.
But I digress.
And then when they were enjoying some champs by the sea some random dude in sunglasses and a suite waddles up to them. NOT WEIRD AT ALL.
“Neil Lane sends his regards,” he said, handing Arie a briefcase.
Oh good! ABC is cutting this season short! It’s the final rose ceremony! Oh, it’s not? Sigh…Not a ring. Just everything else: Earrings, bracelets, a necklace to go with the free outfit she’ll don later that night. Arie kept telling her she deserved it. He really wanted to spoil her. He’s really grossing me out. But man, Becca K is pretty much guaranteed to walk off this show with something of value. FINALLY!
Becca almost got bludgeoned with empty chardonnay bottles when she returned to the lady house. Bitch, do not walk through these doors in your inappropriate sparkling shoes (Louboutins! Also a freebie!) with your shopping bags full of Rachel Zoe promotional consideration. DO NOT. Bibiana (who–how did I miss this before–is clearly this season’s mujer loca), got super emotional looking at those shoes because where she comes from that is clearly a sign of impending marriage. Why don’t they all just go home now?
The date continued in the evening with a fake dinner where Becca talked about her late father (sad) and Arie talked about race cars (of course.) Then Arie mashed his “pillow lips” up against her face while they mumbled about how much they liked kissing each other while they were kissing each other.
BUT THAT WASN’T THE REALLY GOOD PART!
There was another one-on-one date with Krystal where Arie took her back to his hometown of Scottsdale because he forgot to feed his cats and might have left his curling iron on. They watched home videos, looked through his color-coded closet, drove past the Pizza Hut where he worked before getting the call from ABC to be the next bachelor. Oh, and they dropped by to meet his sad, Dutch family.
After meeting Arie’s brother and sister-in-law, Arie’s mom and Krystal had this fun exchange:
MOM: They just got married.
KRYSTAL: Oh, that’s nice!
MOM: They are nice normal people who met in a nice, normal way.
KRYSTAL: So great!
MOM: Not on TV.
KRYSTAL: I get it, nice Dutch lady.
MOM: They got married in the Netherlands. Not on a TV show.
KRYSTAL: Look bitch, I don’t like your son anyway. None of us do so there’s not going to be a freakin’ wedding– televised or otherwise. Bye now!
That is also where I had to say buh bye because my legs were getting all liquidy and someone had to pick the child up from pre-school. I can’t wait to tell you about the REALLY GOOD* thing that happened!
*That, ladies and gentlemen, is a cliffhanger made all the more intense by the fact I’m writing this THREE days after the episode aired. Don’t you dare Google it! Wait for me! I’ll be back!
Okay, fine, I started watching the new season of The Bachelor but only because it was my first day back on the treadmill in 729 days and I needed a good distraction.
Here’s what I know so far:
Ari likes blondes
Oops, I mean, “Arie”
There are so many race car puns
I still don’t like him
I don’t think Chris Harrison likes him (“Wow, you haven’t managed to have a relationship in five years, huh? Wow, wow, wow. So here we are.”)
Even the girls were struggling to think of good things to say about him (“He…um…has such a full head of hair!”)
As for the cast, well you’ve got your spray tans and baby voices and nervous chardonnay drinkers. And clearly casting couldn’t find enough delusional fame whores to date Ari (sorry, ARIE) so they cast the same girl three times.
And of course the usual tropes are immediately obvious:
The “I’m not here to make friends” award goes to:
Interesting facts about Chelsea: she also fills the “single mom” trope. (Let’s pour one out for that poor kid) and she bears an uncanny resemblance to one of the best villains of all time: Olivia!
The only thing Chelsea likes about women is talking shit about them. Chelsea is going to love living in a house with 28 other women–especially when they all get on the same cycle.
The “Lovable Weirdo” award goes to:
She has a tiny guitar she used to serenade a dead seal. That’s right– Kendall likes dead things. As in taxidermy. She collects it, what? Relationships end (for her a year was her longest) but dead things last forever! Can’t argue with that! Kendall is my top pick!
The “Overcompensating Entrance” award goes to:
Wow, these girls were really leaning into the whole race card driver thing. One girl even made a god awful “pit stop” joke after making Ari (GOD DAMMIT ARIE) smell her B.O. BEKAH, the nanny from Fresno, rode in on a cherry red Mustang, only to be bested by Maquel (that’s right, bitches, MA-QUEL) who showed up in an actual race car. I mean, come on BEKAH! Why you gotta be half-assing it on day 1?! Also spell your name right! Also girls with short hair never go far on this show. YOU KNOW THAT! Does a nanny not pull in enough coin to spring for some damn hair extensions???
The “Have you never seen this show?” award goes to:
Hey, Valerie? So this is a reality show called, The Bachelor where we pick a bunch of spray tanned, bouncy haired girls with little self-esteem, but lots of cut out dresses to all compete for one man’s affections. There are a lot of girls– really pretty girls– here because THAT’S THE WHOLE FREAKIN’ PREMISE OF THE SHOW, YOU DUMMY!
The “Why can’t I find love” award goes to:
Okay, so they could all pretty much get this coveted award, but I’m going with Maquel because she flat out whinnied, “Why can’t I find love?” (Or some strain of that B.S.) during her intro montage.
She’s a photographer who loves to shoot (like literally shoot!) engaged couples so she can make them feel bad for finding each other while she’s still single. SO RUDE! Hey Maquel, do you know why you can’t find love? Because you’re TWENTY-THREE! Cool your freakin’ jets. No love until you can legally rent a car, okay? Speaking of which, Alamo should not have let you drive that race car off the lot!!! Hope you had a co-signer!
The “Lauren” award goes to:
How many Laurens can you stuff in a limo? There’s always at least 2 per season, but there was a bumper crop this year because we got 4.
The non-Laurens could hardly believe it. What was this, some kind of nomenclature sorcery?
And that’s what I know 43 minutes into the show. Will I keep watching? Am I already hooked? Can I quit this stupid show?
The Bachelor is leading us to believe all Finland has to offer is packs of running deer and snow. (And the Northern Lights if, you know, natural phenomenons are your bag.) That all may be true, but it’s time to update the tourism brochures. Finland can now proudly proclaim itself to be the locale where Raven had her first orgasm. That’s right. Nick brought his chunky cable knit sweater and his A-Game to the Fantasy Suite and left Raven, “Pretty satisfied.”
The next morning as she snuggled in a fur blankie and bid Nick adieu with a smooch and an “I love you,” Raven believed that was the first “meaningful” I love you with her future husband. Clearly she was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.
As if her words were not vomit-inducing enough, we were then treated to a “My First Orgasm” music montage where a “fully awoken” Raven ran around poor, beautiful, peaceful Finland nuzzling dogs, high-fiving strangers, kissing reindeer, making snow angels, and poking her dumb hat-heavy head out from behind sculptures. I mean…what the…?
Just…stop, Raven. I don’t get you. Never have. If I could muster a morsel of a positive feeling towards Nick I would wonder what he sees in you, but I can’t. So I don’t. I think you should get married and take each other off the market and hump in the Arkansas mud and make enough babies to fill a Sunday School class. Also, your hat is stupid.
After Nick left Raven pretty satisfied in the Fantasy Suite, he met up with Rachel for another fun afternoon of stereotypical winter activity and mediocre satisfaction. They cross-country skied (perfect activity for a girl from Texas and a douche on two legs) to a safari where they geeked out on some reindeer who were less than impressed by these stupid Americans who were pretending to fall in love on TV.
“We’re just trying out new adventurers together,” Rachel mused. “There’s something beautiful and romantic about that.”
What wasn’t beautiful and romantic was the rational, sad, neglected voice inside Rachel’s head that didn’t believe all this hooey and therefore wouldn’t let her say stupid things like, “I love you!”
Instead she said, “I’m scared. Scared of rejection. Scared of putting it out there and him not giving it back.”
Oh honey, whatever Nick is putting out there, you’re surely going to get back. In fact, call your gyno now.
But alas. The Rational Rachel was asked to take a seat while Regretful Rachel had a nice, little chat with Nick.
Nick: I like strong people. I like strong women. I like knowing where I stand.
Rachel: I’m falling in love with you! Oh god, that’s so stupid I might make myself sick!
Nick: I’m totally falling for you too! 100%! You’re going to be such a great Bachelorette! Want to go to the Fantasy Suite?
Rachel: Totes! Just let me get my diaphragm!
Rachel felt good, she felt confident, she felt loved. Soon she would feel a burning sensation when she peed, but that’s besides the point.
“This is exactly the man i’m supposed to be with,” she beamed.
Rachel loved waking up with Nick–until he ate the breakfast off her plate and begged off to meet up with his other girlfriend.
Last but not least likely to get an STD, it was Vanessa’s turn to don a stupidly tall knit hat and wait outside in the cold for Nick to take her someplace even colder. They both hoped whatever unbearably frigid thing the producers cooked up would be better than that day they spent in Montreal with Vanessa’s annoying sane, close, cynical family and their constant barrage of inane questions.
Because their relationship had always been so, “hot and steamy,” Nick thought a Finnish ice bath would be an appropriate activity.
Nick: Hey! We’re going to wear matching, ill-fitting swimsuits, hang out in a boiling hot sauna, and then run outside to submerge ourselves in a freezing ass lake.
Vanessa: My family was right– you suck.
Nick: I don’t want to do it either, okay? But all the good dates were already taken by my other girlfriends.
Vanessa: I want to murder you. Like chop you up and feed you to the reindeer.
After the third dip in the freezing ass lake, Vanessa started enjoying it, which goes to prove this woman has terrible taste in pretty much everything.
Once they were warm and dry, they discussed Vanessa’s very traditional family and Nick’s blatant dislike of very traditional families.
Nick: I once dated a girl who’s family was very…present. I hated it. I hate family. They all suck. I wish I was hatched from a bed bud and sunflower seed.
Vanessa: I will never compromise on ANYTHING! Especially not spending six hours with my family EVERY, SINGLE SUNDAY!
Nick: Like every Sunday?
Vanessa: I just hope you remember that relationships are based on compromises!
Nick: But you just said you would never compromise.
Vanessa: I WON’T! You will be doing all the compromising, assface!
That night Vanessa became confused. Maybe she had a delayed case of hypothermia? Maybe the sight of Nick in a tiny blue weenie bikini zapped her out of this forced romantic reverie? Or maybe she just hadn’t had enough to drink yet. While she could picture spending the rest of her life with Nick, she didn’t understand why their conversations were always so heavy. Also, why the hell wouldn’t he want to spend ¾ of every day with her family? I mean, what the literal hell? And speaking of family, Vanessa figured now was as good a time as any to talk about the whole, “What country would we live in if you proposed?” question they were all so obsessed with. (ANSWER: Doesn’t freakin’ matter! Before you can Google “What the eff is a toonie?” your fake love story will be resigned to old Us Weekly’s languishing on Bombay Company end tables in dentist waiting rooms.
Neither Nick nor Vanessa seemed interested in leaving their home countries so they decided to talk about it after spending the night in the Fantasy Suite.
In the morning, Vanessa had been duped into thinking Nick was her other half. She believed herself to the luckiest person in the world, but was admittedly a little worried because they still hadn’t settled on which country they’d live in. But oh well! Time for a Rose Ceremony!
Even the luckiest woman in the world wasn’t immune to a little insecurity and doubt. Standing next to Raven and Rachel who also reeked of eau de Fantasy Suite toiletries made her wonder if she was good enough. (ANSWER: Honey, the day you hit send on your application was the day you should have asked yourself that.)
But I digress.
Nick was a hot mess, barely able to properly thank each of the girls for taking the time to sleep with him without bursting into tears. He sniveled and cried as he handed roses to Raven and Vanessa.
Oh no way. You mean the girl who was tapped to be the next Bachelorette a MONTH AGO didn’t get a rose?! No way, ABC. Didn’t see that coming. Impressive run, Rachel. We’ll see you soon. Maybe not soon enough for Nick.
Rachel: Ew. I can’t believe I thought we had a thing.
Nick: You’re the most incredible woman I ever met. I hope this isn’t goodbye forever. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge!
Rachel: Ew. Just…ew.
Nick: I’m always going to think of you. Even after I propose to and dump one of those bimbos over there. Can I walk you out?
Before she got into the back of the limo, Nick hugged her tight. Like really tight. Maybe he really liked her but ABC paid him to dump her. Or maybe they really liked her and promised him a spot on her season the The Bachelorette.
As a lone tear streamed down Rachel’s cheek in the back of the limo, Nick popped a squat next to a lantern and cried.
Who will Nick chose to enter into a highly publicized, ill-fated relationship with? Only one more week of putting up with Nick and his fake feelings! Weeeeeeeee!
There’s good news and bad news about this week’s episode of The Bachelor:
Good news: It was only an hour!
Bad news: It involved one long, drawn out, pathetic , TMI-filled date between Raven and Nick.
Good news: It’s Fantasy Suite time! Bahahahaha!
Bad news: It involved Raven and Nick.
Good news: There was a big, fat, kiss off at the Rose Ceremony.
Bad news: I’m already bored without her.
Don’t worry, we’ll get there. But if I had so suffer through Nick and Andi’s incredibly fake, obviously scripted, weird role-play then so do you. That’s what friends do.
Nick: I’m so vulnerable! Is this how you felt?
Andi: Oh god, no! You’re a loser!
Nick: You dumped me on national TV!
Andi: I’d do it again in a heartbeat. In fact, can I? We’re on TV right now!
Nick: Maybe I’ll dump someone on national TV. Ever think of that?
Nick: What? I don’t have to marry one those bitches just because I’m the Bachelor and ABC is paying me to!
Andi: High five, you bad boy, you! Oh hey, are you going to have sex with all of them in the Fantasy Suite?
Nick: Uh duh, Andi. But probably not all at once. I mean, unless they’re cool with that.
Andi: Know what I think? Who cares? DO IT! Bang ‘em all! You’re dating them! You have three girlfriends! You already met their parents! You’ve been on at least three dates. DO IT! Don’t buy a cow without a test drive. Or, wait, what? Who cares. Just DO IT!
Nick: Wow, Andi! Great advice!
Andi: Right? I’m such a feminist! Roar!
Nick: I’m not sure telling a dude to bang three different women and not care about it is being a feminist, but oh well!
Andi: WHO CARES???
Nick: Sorry I told everyone we slept together and then slut-shamed you for two years.
Andi: Sorry I humiliated you on national television. I mean, I’m sorry. Not regretful. You’re still a loser.
Meanwhile, back at the house, Vanessa couldn’t stop crying, Rachel thought she was falling in love for real this time, Raven was ready to say yes, and PV was feeling vulnerable because after their day of shopping, Nick now knew her “to the core.”
Nick was late to the Rose Ceremony because of his fireside chat with Andi. He made the girls wait on a rooftop deck, freezing in their mega-slit gowns, seriously regretting their choice to go Brazilian.
When he finally arrived, (dressed in all black to exemplify what a slimey bastard he was,) Nick apologized for making them wait, but failed to mention the whole “drinking whiskey with my ex-girlfriend” thing.
PV’s not a cold weather sort of gal.
Nick was all blah blah blah, hometowns were fun, families were nice, thanks for cooking all that pasta, sorry everyone hated me. Raven got the first rose which still surprised me. I mean, what the hell? Does her daddy own a television network or something?
Rachel got the second rose, but we all know that ain’t happening.
And then things got nice and dramatic as Nick was forced to chose between the pretty, kind, intelligent special needs teacher or the vapid, insecure, morally defunct exhibionist. I honestly had no idea which way he would go.
But he chose…
Wait for it…
PV was going ho ho home! E-jected! Gone Gonorrhea Girl! The penicillin express was leaving the station with only one bleary eyed, bleating, sadsack with a ton of baggage on board.
PV burst into tears which was weird. Kind of like seeing an iguana cry. She apologized for whatever it was she did wrong.
Wait, what?! She was that girl? The “clearly-I’m-not-good-enough-for-you-so-why-didn’t-I-buy-you-the-cashmere-sweatsuit-instead” girl? Good lord, PV! Your lady parts are allegedly made of a rare, precious metal and you’re apologizing to a guy we’ve seen dumped on TV more times than that weird blue liquid on a maxi pad? Oh girl…
Nick assured her than other than submitting an application to be on this stupid show, she did nothing wrong.
“I’m gonna miss the hell out of your boobs– I mean, you,” he said.
It took all her energy to stay awake, stand up, and stutter, good luck.
Man, she was bawling. Like Raquel-said-no-more-cheesy-noodles bawling! The only thing harder than how she was taking this was the crusty, old dairy products embedded in her cleavage. That’s gonna be a bitch to get off.
As she was stuffed into the backseat of the waiting town car, she immediately got drunker, more revealing, and less coherent. (More so than usual, I mean.) Here’s the highlight reel of her confessions:
“Feels like my heart…like never will be repaired.”
“Why can’t I just have a normal relationship like they do on TV?”
“I’m done trying to show my men how much I worships and support them! Done!”
“Imma jus gonna be me…”
“Not gonna kiss up to a man ever again.”
“I’m so done.”
“And so sleepy.”
Good night, PV. Unlike anything about you, it’s been real.
And bye bye, Brooklyn. It was time to pack up and head to Finland. (I’m so sorry, good people of Finland.) Thankfully PV and her perpetual snotty nose aren’t coming.
Finland wasn’t just snow and vodka. It’s the location for the Fantasy Suite dates, which incidentally was stocked with plenty of snow and vodka. For those who may not know what the Fantasy Suite is, allow me to explain. It’s the most contrived, pseudo-romantic “suite” where the Bachelor/Bachelorette and their remaining contestants can be alone without the cameras. It’s gross and awesome, but unless you’re sleeping with Nick no one knows for sure what goes down in there.
Before their date, Nick donned a parka and wandered around a snowy field looking for clarity. What he discovered was:
He and Vanessa still had a lot of questions to answer, superficial ones like, “Where you gonna live?” Also her family was mean.
Rachel was the only woman who hadn’t professed her love, but he was sure she’d get there. But if not he would still sleep with her.
He wasn’t entirely sure where Raven’s heart was, which might be the stupidest thing this guy ever said. Umm, really, dickhead? Two days ago she was climbing all over in a field of mud and she practically weeps whenever she looks at you. Duh
“Let’s spend the rest of the episode focused on Nick and Raven’s one-on-one date,” said the worst producer ever. Thanks a lot, jerkwad.
Raven was determined this time she would tell Nick she was in love with him. She never told any other guy that before. Well, except Jesus.
They popped into a local pub, drank beer, and played darts while locals seethed in the background. Raven felt like she was in one of those choose your own adventure books where every choice was a “new, great experience!
Yeah, Dumbo, every choice is a “new, great experience” because every choice is choreographed and paid for by a major television network! THIS IS NOT REAL LIFE!
Also, STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR HAIR!
Sorry, I must have been temporarily hypnotized by all that hair twirling because I had no idea how those two ass clowns got on the topic of household chores.
“You’ll cook and I’ll fold clothes!” she squealed.
“I like creases in my pants!” Nick squealed.
“Ew, creases!” Raven squealed.
Oh, you two crazy kids!
But Raven was only focused on Nick’s creased chinos because she needed a distraction from what was really on her mind:
Having to tell Nick she loved him
Having to have sex with Nick in the Fantasy Suite
Okay this show is gross and all, but sex in the Fantasy Suite isn’t a requirement. Just saying. Also, she casually mentioned in her confessional that she’s only had one sexual partner. Oh and she’s never had an orgasm. (Hi, Raven’s Dad!)
They escape to a cabin in the woods where someone put a lot of effort setting a table and plating food no one will even look at.
Raven went on a long rambling rant with lots of diversions and tears and stupid metaphors about “never having felt the feelings she was feeling” and every time she talked to him she got a “comfort feeling.” Jesus, take the wheel and make her say it! When she finally blurted out the most anti-climatic “I love you,” ever, Nick thought it was the best professions of love he ever heard. The editors begged to differ.
Raven accepted ABC’s invitation to the Fantasy Suite, but needed to remind Nick of two things:
Raven: So, umm, I’ve only had one sexual partner before. And I beat his ass with a shoe.
Nick: Cool! I’ve only had one sexual partner too…today. Heya!
Raven: Also, I’ve never had an orgasm. So like, no pressure.
Nick: Damn straight, no pressure! You think I care about reciprocation in the bedroom? Oh girl, you got a lot of mud up between those ears.
Alone with a thirty-person camera crew, Nick and Raven settled in and waited for the Northern Lights (not a euphemism.)
Will Raven add a second notch to her belt? Will she finally have an orgasm? Will any of the other remaining girls be dumb enough to sleep with this guy? Will anyone have an orgasm? Probably not. But you’ll have to wait for next week to find out for sure.
The girls were still reeling from the unceremonial dumping of Kirstina. How can Nick dump so many women without a ceremony? (ABC must be saving a ton on roses this season.) The girls are like SO DONE with surprises! I mean, what in the actual hell was going on here? It’s not like ABC was trying to get ratings or something. PV was so freakin’ unstable she had to drink her chardonnay out of a coffee mug.
And then there was a knock on door!
And it was Nick!
He admitted it was tough to get rid of Kristina because he really “loved” and “respected” her and everyone knew he couldn’t possibly marry a girl like that.
“But you ho’s on the other hand,” he said as he doled out roses. “Hubba hubba!”
Hooray! All four girls were getting hometown dates!
“I am so excited to meet Raquel!” Nick squealed.
First stop was Hoxie, Arkansas to meet Raven’s coven. She was super excited to show Nick a new side of her: fun and sexy! She demonstrated both (I guess?) by inviting Nick to partake in Hoxie’s favorite activities–mudding, frog farming, and breaking into grain bins.
Mudding is exactly what it sounds like. You climb aboard an ATV and barrel through gigantic, mud-soaked fields and get really muddy.
They rolled up to a grain bin where “the people of Hoxie leave their secrets.” They got almost the top when wouldn’t you know it? The police showed up.
“What you doing here? You know who owns this here grain bin? You got any ID? You ain’t from around here, are you, sonny boy?”
Nick appeared perplexed and afraid while looking for a producer to, you know, explain things and I was wondering why the cop wasn’t telling the cameras to stop rolling, but whatever. I don’t get arrested much so what do I know? Just as Nick was about to submit to a cavity search, SURPRISE! It was just Raven’s brother! Oh man! You totally got us, Raven’s brother!
“Don’t be kissing on the grain bin!” He warned. “I’ll be watching!”
You will be? EWWWWWW, Raven’s brother!
After the police fake out, they resumed mudding activities and got good and soaked. Raven stripped Nick down so they could enjoy a nice lil’ biblical wrestle in the mud. Wearing a white t-shirt today was totally a good choice, Raven. Where was that creepy brother now?
Nick felt like this was a huge step forward in their relationship. Or wait, maybe he meant this:
They’d have some serious cleaning up to do before meeting her parents, but first a bit more dirty.
As they approached Raven’s parent’s front door, she casually mentioned her dad was diagnosed with lung cancer.
“Oh, umm,” Nick stammered. “I brought flowers.”
Don’t worry, it was only sad for a minute because Raven’s mom announced Dad was just declared cancer free. An actual touching moment ensued.
But so did this weird, fake romance.
Nick was only the second guy Raven had ever brought home, so it was a big deal, y’all!
“Is it weird to think you could be walking me down the aisle to marry that guy in there?” Raven asked her dad.
“Oh girl, so f’ing weird.”
Then Raven had a really sweet chat with her mom.
Raven: I thought he was going to be really arrogant, you know? Like a total toolbag.
Raven’s Mom: That’s what I thought too! I hate his face.
Raven: But then I saw him be really nice to his little sister and I was like, “Oh. He’s cool!”
Raven’s Mom: I trust your judgement!
Nick also had a heart-to-heart with Raven’s dad.
Nick: So how would you feel if your daughter wanted to marry me?
Raven’s Dad: Pretty shitty!
Nick: I care about her a lot. She’s definitely in my top four.
Raven’s Dad: Well, I admit, I wasn’t expecting to like you. I mean, you’re kind of a loser. But I guess I’d rather her marry you than the cheating bastard she beat up with her shoe.
Raven left her family feeling reassured and hopeful and decided the time was right to tell Nick she’d totally say yes if he wanted to propose to her.
“I have no reservations,” she said. And then promptly beat herself up for not saying, “I love you.” I mean, Nick’s not that smart. What if he didn’t get what she meant? Great. Now she’d probably be the only girl left who hadn’t said it! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Next it was off to Dallas to meet Rachel’s family. After a huggy, kissy reunion on a sidewalk, Rachel whisked Nick off to a gospel church filled with black people because she wanted Nick to be “super comfortable.”
Even though this church was different from his church back home (wait. what?) he had an amazing time. So amazing that Nick was ready to spend every Sunday being the only white guy in Rachel’s church.
Unfortunately Rachel’s dad wasn’t home due to “work obligations” (READ: Deep seated humiliation and disgust) but Nick did get to meet her mom, aunt, sisters and WHITE-ASS brother-in-law!
“You don’t need to have black skin,” Rachel said. “But you need to have thick skin.”
Her sister and white brother-in-law grilled Rachel and Nick first.
“Is Rachel the first black girl you’ve ever dated?” White brother-in-law asked.
“Well, define ‘dated.’ I mean, I sleep with black girls all the time. Or at least I did twice.”
Rachel’s mom was also curious about Nick’s history with black women. She also shared advice she imparted on her daughters.
“Always look for red flags in relationships,” she said. “So Nick, what are Rachel’s red flags?”
“Uh, uh, uh…other than wanting to marry me? I mean, that’s a pretty huge red flag, don’t you think?”
Finally Nick jetted off to Miami to meet the weird ass mutants that spawned such a debaucherous egomaniac who can’t keep her clothes on. Nick was super excited to be in Miami. He had no clue what PV had in store for him, but knowing her he figured it probably would involve nudity and pubic lice.
Because she really wanted Nick to get to know “her true essence”, and because she’s a superficial, conceited twitwit, the date she planned was a tour of all the places she felt most at home–a very upscale shopping mall where it’s common to put on fancy clothes and dry hump in front of the mannequins.
Nick was blown away by the fact every single sales associate knew her intimately and the $1,400 sweatsuit she made him try on. She wanted Nick to look good when meeting her parents so she bought him an outfit costing more than an entire year of spray tans for the Miami University cheerleading team.
You guys, the outfit cost $3,423!!!
You guys, she paid for it!
You guys, he let her!
Once she had Nick outfitted properly, she made a tiny confession: She loved him! Oh puke. They consummated her egregious and highly inappropriate declaration with a sloppy makeout session outside a fake Parisian mall bistro.
Wow. PV has some serious sun damage.
PV’s parents looked like nice, cuddly, friendly adults who other than Nick’s mom and dad were the only parents who had any concern over Nick’s inability to meet a woman outside of televised game shows.
And yes, Nick finally got to meet RAQUEL!
PV: The other girls made fun of me because I have a nanny.
PV’s Mom: How they hell did they find out you had a nanny?
PV: I told them.
PV’s Dad: You dumbass!
PV’s Mom: I hope you also told them Raquel is a valued and loved part of our family and has been for seventeen years. RAQUEL! I’m hungry! Serve faster, please. And be a dear and put some of these olives on my fork for me. You know I hate round food. See? FAMILY!
PV’s Dad sat her down and asked some “serious questions.”
PV’s Dad: What the eff is going on here?
PV: I love him!
PV’s Dad: For the love of god don’t tell him that!
PV: I already did!
PV’s Dad: It’s been like six days! What the hell is wrong with you!?
PV: I love him! He’d be my soulmate if I had a soul.
Dad: What’s his job?
PV: Who the hell cares? There’s no time to work when you’re always on reality TV shows.
Dad: Are you okay being the breadwinner? And have him stay home with your kids?
PV: Sure, Dad. Stop asking me questions like none of this is normal!
Later, PV’s dad and Nick enjoyed some fine scotch and another line of questioning.
PV’s Dad: You may have noticed my daughter is a superficial, materialistic little troll. I may have had something to do with that. But now she’s gonna be your problem! You ready for that?
Nick: Sure! I mean, as long as she stays super slutty and never develops any of those annoying traits like modesty or decency.
PV’s Dad: Oh sure, no chance of that happening. But you kind of need…you know…a job. What’s next for you?
Nick: I’ve got lots of irons in the fire. And by irons and fire I’m talking about my penis and the the other girls amirite!?
PV’s Dad: Cheers to that! But what’s gonna be your J.O.B., dumbass!?
Nick: There are lots of things I can do like Celebrity Rehab, Marriage Boot Camp, maybe Celebrity Boxing.
Last trip was off to Montreal to meet Vanessa’s family and her adorable students who clearly loved her. They were holding signs and handing her roses and bawling because they missed her so much. Nick was like, “BOOOORING! Do you like my new sweater? It cost more than Vanessa’s six-month earnings!”
The crew spent the afternoon creating scrapbook pages of Nick and Vanessa’s most favorite memories. Oh look! There’s Vanessa puking into Nick’s mouth! And there she is crying and doubting her value as a human being in front of a roaring fire.
Next stop was to meet Vanessa’s mother’s side of the family at Nonna’s house where 15 people sat around the most gigantic table ever set. Food was piled high, but no one cared because they all had deep, probing questions for the happy couple like:
Where will you live if he picks you?
“Oh, you know,” Vanessa answered. “I’m sure we’ll live somewhere. I don’t really want to pressure him.”
Hmm. Vanessa’s aunt started to get a sense that perhaps Nick and Vanessa don’t really…you know… talk.
Vanessa’s mom had a different line of questioning for Nick.
Mom: What do you like about my daughter?
Nick: Oh, I liked her as soon as she got out of the limo. I mean, va va va voom, riiiiiiight?
Mom: Well, you’re as gross as I thought you would be.
Vanessa’s sister was having none of it.
“Have you talked about real things?” she grilled Nick. “Like how you both live in different countries? Like where you want to live? Like what your job will be if you have to move? Like why you want to marry her?”
“Ew, sister!” Nick answered. “That kind of boring shit is what married people talk about!”
Not completely satisfied with that answer, Vanessa’s sister promised that if Nick hurt her sister, she would hate him forever. That made Nick cry.
Meanwhile Vanessa was chatting with her much younger and savier brother.
“What will you do for work? Where will you live? What the hell does he do for a living? Why do you want to marry this guy?
“Ugh! Enough with the logical questions! Who cares where people live! We’ll talk about living situations when the time is right, okay?”
All those questions really put a damper on things and they hadn’t even visited her dad yet! That visit went something like this:
Vanessa’s Dad: Why is my daughter more special than all those other bimbos?
Nick: She’s hot! And she makes me feel safe. And umm.. I like her brown hair.
Vanessa’s Dad: But do you respect her?
Nick: Come again?
Vanessa’s Dad: Will you treat her like a lady, you stupid flytrap?
Nick: Ooooh, you know it! So can I have your blessing?
Dad: Are you f’ing crazy? What did her mom say?
Nick: I didn’t ask because I did not care for her particular line of questioning.
Dad: So you want to get engaged to my daughter? Is that what you’re telling me?
Nick: Well no, because I’m still dating three other girls.
Dad: So what the hell does it mean to want my blessing?
Nick: Umm that you…don’t totally hate me?
Dad: Right. Okay, I guess!
Vanessa’s Dad told her Nick asked for his blessing, which at once made Vanessa all hopeful and then concerned. Was he asking all the other parents the same thing? Does he actually like those other girls???
The group returned to Brooklyn for the rose ceremony, because why not? All of the girls with the exception of PV were feeling insecure and having doubts about saying (or not saying) I love you. Just as Nick was deep in a faux thoughtfulness on a balcony overlooking Manhattan, there was a knock on the door. It was ANDI! You know, the first of three women to dump him on national television. WHY WAS SHE THERE? To pay tribute to the GIANT BULLET SHE DODGED or just to make fun of him? I guess we’ll have to wait to find out. What’s with all these cliffhangers, ABC?! It’s not like this is the most boring season ever and you have to manufacture the drama. Oh…right.
After a pretty snoozy previous week I was ready for some epic showdowns. While I wouldn’t say there were showdowns, there were definitely “show you the doors,” which is almost as good.
The episode opened with the girls pondering what could possibly have happened in the bayou on the dreaded two-on-one. Did Nick cast PV off to the nearest walk-in clinic or was Taylor forced to seek comfort with her PhD and giant dictionary? WHO WAS GOING HOME?!
Their sad suitcases sat by the front door until the unamed, unspoken production assistant was sent in to fetch them. The girls held their breath as the PA pretended to not know which bag to take, drawing out the agony of suspense for a good three and a half seconds before finally settling on Taylor’s bag. The remaining girls gasped! How the hell did that slimy, stunted boob slip by for another week?
While Nick and PV enjoyed their alone time, Taylor was on the stomp of shame, heading right to the non-restaurant they were dining at. By golly she was determined to use as many big words as she could to let Nick know she was the victim of lies and manipulation. I mean, if Nick sent her packing because she was boring or condescending or lacking any positive personality traits, then FINE. Been there, done that. But she was not a bully!
When Taylor walked in, Nick and PV did a horrible job pretending to be surprised. PV’s drunkeness looked totally authentic though.
PV: What the BLEEEEEEEEEEEP is she doing here?”
Taylor (to PV): You lied.
PV: Uh, duh.
Taylor (to Nick): You were lied to.
Nick: No shit.
Taylor: I care about you as a person. When you’re lied to it’s not respectful. She’s making me look bad. It’s MY job to make me look bad, not hers! How dare she take that away from me!
Nick: Honey, you look so bad right now and it’s all you. I promise!
Taylor: Quit trying to seduce me! It’s over! Open your eyeballs! I’M NOT WEARING A BRA!
Nick: I really appreciate you leaving your undergarments in the bayou and taking the time to tell me this. I have nothing but respect for you and everyone knows I can’t possibly date a woman I respect. Please leave. For real, this time.
PV tried to be a supportive psychopathic trophy wife who pitied her man and those crazy bitches he kept having to fend off, but talking was so icky.
“Let’s make out!” she said, ramming his face into her mouth.”
Later, Nick confessed he still saw potential with PV.
“Oh wait,” he said. “Did I say potential? I meant nipples! Oh ha, sorry! I SEE NIPPLES WITH PV!”
In her confessional, PV slurred something about cats having nine lives, but bitches had two. Was she confusing “lives” with “personalities?” Because if so she’s not giving herself enough credit.
“Don’t ever call me a liar in front my boyfriend!” she screamed.
The girls arrived for the rose ceremony by way of horse drawn carriage, but their giddiness soon soured when a very solemn Chris Harrison told them there would be no pre-ceremony cocktail party.
“Nick knows exactly what he wants to do,” he said.
Jasmine burst into tears because without the cocktail party she wouldn’t have time to tell Nick how she really felt. And lemme tell you, she was feeling PISSED! Why hasn’t she had a one-on-one? Why doesn’t he talk to her? Why hasn’t he proposed to her yet? Why does she have to be the alternate African American girl?
But the Universe loves affirmative action and gave Jasmine a reprieve. Instead Nick sent home Jaime, the drag queen, and Alexis whom I will truly miss.
Jaime said she had no regrets. She’s probably only going to date women after this anyway.
Alexis blamed her ousting on the fact that she wasn’t vulnerable enough. Then she burst out crying.
The remaining girls and Nick toasted the next stop on the Bachelor tour: THE ISLAND OF ST. THOMAS! Nick was super excited because according his calculations, this was the week he would start falling in love.
Kristina the Russian got the first one-on-one date.
As her and Nick took off in a seaplane, the other girls waved and blew kisses. Except Jasmine who was bawling on a street corner.
“It’s hurtful,” she said. “Watching the man you saw your future with take off with someone else.”
Nick was determined to find out everything there was to know about Kristina. He started pestering her, the girl who grew up in an orphanage, about family.
Kristina: I have 9 siblings.
Nick: Wow. So there’s 10 of you?
Kristina: No. Maybe 8.
Nick: So, 9 including you?
Kristina: No. I don’t know. But I have a sister in Russia. Let’s drink!
But Nick really wanted to press on about her life in the orphanage and nail down how many god damn siblings she had and wouldn’t stop until he got Kristina to tell this really heartwarming tale about how one day when she was little she was so hungry she ate lipstick. Then when she was five her mom got mad at her for something and sent Kristina to the orphanage. The end. Or something like that. I was too sad to keep listening. Nick cried big, droopy man tears as he gave her the rose and all the food off his plate, some cash, and a few credit cards. Later a steel drum band played Ave Maria so they could awkwardly sway like white people, under a gazebo.
Back the resort, the conversation was a lot more peppy!
Vanessa: Did you know St. Thomas was once owned by Denmark?
Other girls: No. Wow.
Suddenly there was a knock! Was it a date card? Or Chris Harrison? Or another production assistant to snatch someone’s suitcase? No! It was a maid! PV was ecstatic and immediately began shouting orders at her.
“My dress is wrinkley!
“Do you have any lobster dip?”
“Fix my towel!”
“DO YOU WANT TO COME TO AMERICA WITH ME?”
Jasmine was pissed off because her name was on the group date card. Whitney and one of the Danielle’s would be going on a two-on-one. They were paralyzed with fear.
Nick thought the group date would be a fun, casual day at the beach. They drank, played corn hole, and then he forced the girls to play beach volleyball for his enjoyment. PV, not a team player, was super bored so she left to try out some other sports.
For once the other girls agreed with PV. No one liked volleyball. NO ONE! As the welts rose on the inside of their wrists, that stupid white ball made the girls question EVERYTHING. Why was Nick paying so much attention to PV? Why did he think a good date involved competitive beach sports? WHY WERE THEY ON TV TRYING TO MARRY THIS GUY?
Shit started to get real real. Especially Jasmine’s shit.
“If jasmine were a vegetable she’d be a turnip because she’s turned all the way up.” Good one, Raven. But why would you say that?
Holy shit, Jasmine! Did you just shove PV into the sand? I think I love you!
Rachel and Vanessa were the next ones to hit the proverbial showers. Rachel didn’t feel valued and refused to compete for Nick’s attention. (Rachel? I appreciate the sentiment, but you did sign up for a game show where you compete for some rando’s attention. Just sayin’.) Vanessa thought the whole thing was gross and annoying and too much of a metaphor for her life should she end up with Nick. One by one, the remaining girls went down like the Rum Runners PV had for breakfast. Each girl found her own private swath of sand and cried. Slow clap for Nick’s awesome date?
“I think the idea of having a nice relaxing date might have backfired,” Nick concluded, while peeing in the ocean.
Later, Nick doled out glasses of alcohol and apologized for making everyone play volleyball and cry. During their alone time, each girl told Nick how freakin’ miserable they were and if they didn’t truly believe they had a shot at being the next Bachelorette, they’d have beat feet weeks ago.
Jasmine was a freakin’ ticking time bomb. She was happy to accept glasses of alcohol, but not the fact that Nick didn’t try to spend as much time as possible with her. She wanted to PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE because she liked him so much. She won’t shut up about WHAT SHE NEEDS. Nick needs to DO THINGS FOR HER! All the other girls were like, Ho, shut it. We’re all drunk and desperate too. You ain’t special!
Finally Nick pulled her aside for what he thought was some good old-fashioned getting to ho you. But umm, not really.
Jasmine: Why’d you bring me to St. Thomas? I’ve been to St. Thomas. Don’t you dare overlook me!
Nick: To be fair, I didn’t bring you to St. Thomas. ABC did, but…
Jasmine: I love you so much I want to choke your face off.
Jasmine: I ain’t here for vacation! I’m so confused. Why won’t you talk to me?
Nick: Because you’re a bit of a ding a’ ling to be honest and I’m afraid you’re gonna choke my face off.
Jasmine: I like you a lot. I see a future with you. I really do.
Nick: Is that future in the waiting room of a psychotherapist’s office? Because I see that too.
Jasmine: OOOOOOH I JUST WANT TO CHOKE YOU SO BAD!
Nick: Ha ha hahahahhaha
Jasmine: Oh, not in a sexulal way! Don’t worry. In the murdery way!
Nick: Oh good! Hahahahahaha
Jasmine: I just want to throw your ass down and be like UGH!
Nick: Oh! Right! Ugh!
Jasmine: Like this. I want to put you in the chokey!
Nick: Oh it has a name! Cute!
Jasmine: Want me to? I’ll do it right now! Want me to? Huh? WHY ARE YOU OVERLOOKING ME!?
Nick: It’s been super fun but it’s time to say goodbye. Can I walk you out? Can security walk me, walking you out?
Jasmine, having returned to her body from the murderous astral-plane she was visiting moments ago, appeared confused. Wait. Why was he letting her go? Chokey just a jokey!
“He didn’t give me a chance,” she reasoned. “I came here to fall in love with someone. Anyone. Mr. producer, are you single? IS ANYONE SINGLE!”
Nick felt like perhaps he was going in the wrong direction with these women and was beginning to lose confidence in the process. Oh, Nick, now you loose confidence? Not the first time you were dumped at the alter? Or the second? Or when the guy you were dumped for the first time took another girl from you in Paradise? You’re losing confidence now? One might say…oh, what’s the word…FINALLY!
But Nick somehow mustered enough energy to go on his two-on-one date. Like any good two-on-one, this date involved a remote location, a helicopter, and rented patio furniture.
Nick spent two minutes talking to Whitney and three minutes talking to Danielle before deciding he needed to send Whitney home. Or rather, leave Whitney on the deserted beach while he and Danielle flew off in the chopper.
Whitney was perplexed. Instead of using words to find the reasoning, she used her eyes.
The date continued for Danielle and Nick who dined in a fort that was formerly a prison. Moved by all the mason jar votives in this fort-prison, Danielle admitted she could totally see herself falling in love with Nick. Nick pulled a Whitney and used a penetrating stare to communicate, “What the actual F are you talking about, girl?” Not awkward at all. Nope.
Nick: Yeah, so I’m not really into falling in love with anyone tonight. If I was going to do that I’d have chosen Whitney. Did you know she’s a pilates instructor. I mean… HELLO!
Really Nick felt bad because this was the second dumbass to say they were falling for him and he wasn’t feeling the same. WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON? Old Nick would have been dumped three times by now!
Nick was struck with a powerful realization that perhaps he’s the problem. Maybe he can’t reciprocate the same kind of love. Maybe he needs to be the dummy who is too available. Maybe, like Ben Higgins, he was unlovable! MY GOD. WAS HE BROKEN?
Nah, he’s fine. Danielle was the problem so he sent her packing. Wait until Whitney sees her at the airport!
As Danielle pondered what the hell just happened, she thought, maybe he’s not perfect. But no. That would be weird. I guess she’ll never know.
When another producer came to fetch Danielle’s suitcase, the girls who remembered to take their laxatives, crapped a chardonnay brick. What the F was going on up in this virginal island? You expect this kind of wonky witchery in NOLA, but here?
No sooner had the wine sloshed out of their goblets and onto their cutoffs, did Nick barge in and start crying.
Ah, go home, Nick, you’re drunk!
He started blubbering about being honest and how he used to be so optimistic and now he’s afraid he’ll mess up every single one of these fake relationships.
“I want it to be real, I want it to be right, I just don’t know if I can keep doing this,” he said.
Seriously, dude, I’m kind of with you. If a superficial douche-bagel like you can’t fake it with a hot pilates instructor, you should probably hang up your Varvatos ties now. But that’s just me.
After Nick made that not-at-all cryptic speech he bolted, leaving the girls in tears and confusion, or for many of them, just another Tuesday night at home.
“HE’S GONE!” Raven shouted.
“OH NO!” The rest of the girls screamed.
TO BE CONTINUED! I yelled.
] Will Nick come back? Will he come to his senses? Does he have senses? Will he toss the remaining 6 girls and get 6 new ones? Is that allowed? And most importantly, will PV don her trusty Carmen Slutdiego trench coat and stilettos and finally consummate her non-relationship with Nick? And then will she bite his head off? I hope so!
Week five of The Bachelor was so uninspiring I thought about not doing a recap. But then what the hell would I do with these 8 pages of notes?
It started off promising. Chris Harrison said we were about to witness, “The most anticipated showdown of the season!” YES! Bring it!
Err…really, Chris? I love ya, buddy, but come on. We’ve both witnessed our fair share of showdowns. You decide.
The Scene: Two women in their early 20’s, basking in the glow of a roaring chimnea, arguing about the definition of emotional intelligence.
Taylor: Lots of girls are questioning your maturity, PV.
PV: Oh, okay, well that makes sense. But maturity is totally different than emotional intelligence.
Taylor: No, it’s not.
PV: I’m marrying a guy I met on TV. How’s that for intelligence! Also, you’re gross.
Taylor: Actually maturity and emotional intelligence go hand in hand.
PV: Unlike you and Nick! He’ll never hold your hand the way he HELD MY BOOBS! Because you’re gross!
Taylor: I can’t argue with you. You’re way too stupid. This is the lamest showdown ever.
PV: No, I’m not! Stop talking like you’re some kind of mental health counselor!
Taylor: I am a mental health counselor.
PV: Yeah, a gross one! I want to know what yerrrrrrrrrr…perspective on emotional intelligence is.
Taylor: That’s what I’ve been telling you.
PV: Ugh! I can’t believe people pay you for advice!
Taylor: That’s not what I do actually.
PV: BECAUSE YOU’RE THE GROSSEST!!! And you don’t say hi to people! When you see someone in the kitchen and then in the bathroom, you should say hi again!
Taylor: That’s just dumb!
PV: So you do admit you genuinely ignore people! I knew it! I’m gonna school you!
PV didn’t so much as school Taylor as ran to Nick telling him what a big, gross bully Taylor was.
“I’m not going to be fake or a liar right now,” she said. (Always a good opening.) Then pretended to be hurt because Taylor “isn’t nice” and “ignores people.” Also PV was really worried about Nick.
“She’s rude, Nick. About…things. And she feels very…oh what’s that word they keep using to describe me…umm…oh! Entitled! She’s totally not here for the right reasons.”
Nick appreciated her candidness and encouraged her to continue showing that maturity. And by maturity he meant, boobs. Duh.
Nick thanked the girls for standing outside, in winter, in the midwest, in sequined thongs and having “honest conversations.” He left them with a swath of blanket to fight over while he ran off to deliberate who would still be in the running to be the third woman he proposed to on national TV.
PV was confident the Taylor ship had been cast from Nick’s manscaped shores.
“Hashtag winning!” she gloated.
Hashtag shut the hell up, PV!
Kristina, the Russian hygienist was not impressed with petty squabbling.
“Both those bitches should go home,” she said. “Or return to the barn and fight to the death like we do in my country.”
As the roses were doled out, we saw girls await their names with increasing discomfort. Was it the fear Nick would send them home or how painful it is to have cold sequins pressed into your lady parts. With only two roses and four girls left, including Taylor and PV, THE STAKES WERE NEVER HIGHER. My goodness, who will get those last two roses? I’ll tell you. PV got the second to last rose because Nick will not be satisfied until he has all the STDs. And of course Taylor was apathetically offered the last rose. NO WAY!
Astrid and Sarah were sent packing. Astrid was like, “Later, dude!” but Sarah was super disappointed. Love was the only thing she wanted in her life and the only thing she couldn’t get. “HOW DO I GET LOVE?????” she sobbed.
Umm, like that, Sarah. Just like that. You cry your guts out to a production crew who gets cash bonuses for making girls like you cry, while wearing a T.J. Maxx evening gown with the tags still attached, in front of a rented California mansion about a “relationship” that wouldn’t last longer than a peeled banana on a kitchen counter. You look totally desirable right now! HASHTAG WINNING!
Post-ceremony Nick announced the whirlwind adventure would continuing in New Orleans, which scared the holy shit out of Raven.
“What if someone buys a voodoo doll or something?!”
As the girls settled into their new penthouse digs, Chris Harrison arrived to lay out the week’s date plan.
One one-on-one date!
One group date!
The dreaded two-on-one date!
Oh! Maybe that would be the most anticipated showdown?
Rachel and Nick’s one-on-one kicked off at an outdoor market where vendors schlepped petrified gator heads and amethyst pendants– the perfect backdrop for the heavy making-out that took place there. But things didn’t heat up fast enough for Nick who is used to girls just handing him their bare boobs first six seconds into a date so he shoved an oyster down poor Rachel’s face. Next they sampled hot sauce and had another make-out session. Something worked because Nick declared they had the most “explosive chemistry.” I’m pretty sure he was talking about diarrhea.
Later they cooled things off by rubbing beignets all over their bodies. Never having had one before Nick thought the proper way to eat it was to fill his man pores with powder sugar and try to suck it back out with his tongue.
Then they jumped in a Second Line– a traditional New Orleans parade–for a little booty shaking and pavement twerking.
“This is so fun!” Rachel gushed. “I haven’t danced in a second line since I was here for a funeral two months ago!”
The other girls could see the explosive chemistry from their penthouse window and it made Jasmine sad. It’s clear Nick only needs to keep one African American girl to not look like a total racist and clearly it wasn’t going to be her. At least she’d be able to take some high quality toiletries with her when she inevitably goes.
After a bit more white boy dancing and day drinking, Rachel revealed a sideboob and the fact she was on the best date of her life. And then Nick escorted her to an abandoned Mardi Gras float warehouse for dinner. Totally not creepy AT ALL!
Rachel talked about her dad who happened to be a federal judge.
“So he’s, like, intimidating?” Nick asked.
“He can be.”
“Ew. Do I have to call him sir?”
Back at the penthouse, the girls anxiously awaited the group date card because if your name ain’t on it, to the Thunderdome you go! I bet you have NO IDEA WHO THE TWO IDIOTS GOING ON THE TWO-ON-ONE DATE COULD BE, DO YOU?!
But first we must suffer through an incredibly boring group date at a haunted plantation house. Here’s another dramatic reenactment:
Boo (the caretaker): Our house is haunted by Mae, an 8 year-old girl who died of scarlet fever. Please don’t touch her stuff. Especially not her doll. Okay, thanks!
Raven: Oh hell no! Little Ghost Girl, I rebuke you in the same of Jesus! GET BEHIND ME, SATAN!
Jasmine: I have no time for greedy spirits. Bitch, no one wants your damn doll! But if you have any of those beignets I tasted in Nick’s beard, it’s game on!
Girl 1: Oh look, a ouija board!
Girl 2: Yay! Let’s ask it questions!
Girl 3: Will Nick get engaged soon?
Girl 4: Who is having a herpes outbreak RIGHT NOW?
Girl 5: Is Mae with us?
All the girls: EEEEEEEEEEEEE!
And then a whole bunch of fake, scary things happened including Nick spiriting each girl away and making out with them on the lawn. He made it a point to spend a little extra time ramming his tongue down one of the Danielle’s faces because he was pretty sure he liked her a few weeks ago, but couldn’t remember a damn thing about her.
I couldn’t either.
And then a darling little scene happened between Raven and Nick:
Raven: I just knew I was in love with you when you sang that song from The Little Mermaid!
Nick: Uh…uh…did I? That’s…interesting.
The questionable Danielle got the date rose. No one cared.
Back at hotel PV was getting into the “right mindset” for her cagematch.
“She thinks she’s smarter than me,” PV snarled, while shoving $600 worth of room service into her face. “She’s so stupid.”
Rachel entertained herself by pretending to care what happened to either girl.
Rachel: Just be confident. Or whatever. I really don’t care. Bitches be bitches.
PV: I just hope Nick sees my golden heart.
Rachel: And your platinum vagine?
PV: Oh, girl, he’s seen that. You wanna?
And then for no reason other than she really wants me to track her down and give her a good, old throat punch, PV shouted, “MAKE AMERICA CORINE AGAIN!”
The dreaded two-on-one date took place at an alligator-infested bayou where one girl would become gator feed and the other would leave with Nick. You decide who the real loser is.
Taylor’s game plan was to treat the date like a one-on-one with a small side of PV.
“If he actually picks her, umm, ew,” she said. “He’s obviously thinking with his BLEEEEEEEEP.”
I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ARE A MENTAL HEALTH COUNSELOR AND YOU JUST REALIZED THIS! Jeesh. Maybe PV was right.
They departed on a tiny, tippable boat helmed by the by-product of a Duck Dynasty and Alaskan Bush People reality show love child.
On shore they nearly stepped on a spine (yes, a spine) before jumping into a voodoo ceremony straight out of American Horror Story. Here they met a real life voodoo priestess who took one look at Nick and decided there wasn’t enough chicken blood and sage in the world to cleanse that under-aura.
“Get ready to be revealed,” the priestess said.
PV shouted, “READY!” and took off her shirt.
The priestess escorted them to a psychic set up at a tiny IKEA bistro table perched upon some animal carcuses and poison ivy. The producers went all out for this one.
Taylor had the first reading.
“There is someone around you who is very nasty, lots of toxic energy, kind of a ho?” said the reader said. “You know anyone like that?”
No disrespect to the psychic arts, but can I get a big NO SHIT, SVENGALI! Do you watch the show or did you get a whiff of the ol’ penicillin villain over there?
Meanwhile Nick was pulling bugs out of PV’s hair extensions while she whined about the “situation” in the house.
PV: She emotionally attacked me. She said I was immature! She called me stupid!
Nick: But honey, you are all of those things.”
PV: Oh, I know, but I also have a nanny who makes me cheesy pasta and can cut my cucumbers like tiny matchsticks. I mean, how freakin’ cool is that? You want my cucumber matchsticks, Nick. You want them real bad.
When it was PV’s turn with the psychic she tried real hard to feign interest, but readings–psychic or otherwise–aren’t really her jam.
Psychic: Girl, something reeks like dirty alligator swampiness and lemme tell you, it ain’t the dirty alligator swamp.
PV: Probably that gross bitch, Taylor.
Psychic: OMG, you’re dumb as a petrified alligator turd. Back away from my cheapass bistro table before I snap one of these legs and beat you with it. Any questions?”
PV: Yes. Do you have a voodoo doll I could have? One that looks a lot like Taylor?
Psychic: I do! Enjoy!
Taylor rejoined PV at the bistro table while Nick presumably deliberated.
Taylor: I can’t believe you used your time with Nick to rat me out.
PV: Do you by chance have a sharp pain anywhere near your heart right now?
Taylor: You can’t have a relationship based on whipped cream and lies.
PV: How are you possibly a mental health counselor?
Taylor: How can you possibly run a multi-million dollar company?
PV: Once again, I have a nanny, ya dumbass! I don’t do shit!
Nick sat down and lamented about what a hard choice this was having to choose between an intelligent, educated (albeit annoying) woman with a PhD and a girl-woman bimbo whose boobs have had more screentime than a toddler on a cross-country flight.
Of course Nick handed the rose to PV. I mean, OF COURSE! Jesus, Nick. I just can’t even…
Taylor was so grossed out she didn’t even notice Nick, PV, PV’s voodoo doll and the scary boat skipper took off down the bayou without her. A-ho, Matey!
Several hours later, the psychic came back to pack up her table and tell Taylor to get the hell out of here. It was nighttime but thankfully voodoo cleansing rituals require a lot of fire because the priestesses were super easy to spot in the dead of night. Taylor threw herself into the middle of their circle and received a complimentary soul cleansing complete with a smokey sage bath and tambourines clanging in her face. Her confidence rose like a phoenix from the ashes. She was a water sign, dammit! She was emotionally intelligent! She won’t go home without speaking her piece!
So was this going to be the most anticipated showdown of the season? I’m so confused.
Back on the mainland, PV and Nick enjoyed a candlelit dinner in a location definitely not a restaurant. PV was so happy the negative energy was gone and apparently didn’t need a bunch of voodoo priestesses to banish it.
PV: I’m so glad we’re alone! I’m so glad you trust me. I’m glad I showed my boobs on TV. And I’m glad we’re alone!
Nick: Boobs are great!
PV: I’m so glad we’re alone! Why do the producers keep making me say that?
Cut to a freshly minted, but still furious Taylor stomping along the sidewalk. Hell hath no fury like a woman abandoned in a bayou. Her chakras are clean and mean and done with peen (yes, I had to. #sorrynotsorry.) Nick was about to get an over-articulated, multisyllabic dressing down from Thesaurus Rex.
THIS must be the most anticipated showdown of the season! But wait– to be continued! YOU RAT BASTARDS!
Good thing you only have to wait a few hours for the next episode. See? I did you solid by being 6 days late with this recap.
Will Week 6 be the end of PV? Will Taylor say anything Nick actually understands? Will anyone wear a cardboard Nicolas Cage mask? Oh come on! Like that would happen!
Oh man, it’s going to be so sad when the producers finally let Nick send PV home. But until then…
Episode 4 opened with the girls talking smack about PV. She’s immature, she travels with her own portable bouncy house. She’s not ready to be a wife. She doesn’t even know how to make toast.
But where was she?
Then there was Vanessa begging Nick for validation. Does he like her or does he like PV? Because clearly he can’t like them both. I mean, do you like syphilis and stupidity or…not?
“Imma gonna shove this rose up your ass if you’re wasting my time,” Vanessa declared.
“Or you could just keep it to smack me with when I’m being all dumb and shit,” Nick offered.
Vanessa walked away confident that Nick wasn’t buying the anti-PV propaganda she was selling.
Oh girl, have you never watched this damn show? The villain doesn’t leave before Week 5! Smack him!
Frustrated by the lack of dry heaving and bare breasts in the house, two of the girls went to wake up PV and drag her ass downstairs.
“Huh, what?” PV asked all rumpled and confused. “Is it a school day? I don’t wanna go, Raquel!”
“You’re entitled! You’re privileged! You’re selfish! Now come downstairs and hang out with us!”
PV didn’t know if those were good adjectives or bad adjectives, but erred on the side of people seemed to really despise her.
“I ain’t entitled, bitches! I’m goddamn shitfaced! Can’t you tell the difference between an overindulged brat princess and a drunk chick? Girls are such haters!”
Just before roses were handed out, Nick thanked the girls for being so patient and open with him.
“I appreciate each and every one of you telling me what a crusty, immature, incompentent, spoiled baby ho-bag PV is, but she’s totally getting a rose this week! Good night, bitches!”
For whatever reason everyone except ALL OF AMERICA was shocked.
“She’s just a physical connection,” one of them blathered.
“What the hell does he want in a partner?” another questioned.
Ladies, lemme explain those things for you:
She’s just a physical connection: Duh.
What the hell does he want in a partner? See above.
Eliminated Crying Girl in Red Dress #1 bawled in the driveway. She was so ready to fall in love, dammit! Now what????????????
Eliminated Crying Girl in Red Dress #2 had been single for so long and now she was convinced she’ll never find love. I mean, if you can’t find it here, you can’t find it anywhere. And to think she used to make fun of girls who cried on this dumb show!
As the remaining girls and Nick brought it in for a big, sleazy group hug, PV took the opportunity to make an awkward toast.
“Hiiiiiiiiiii! I’m just so happy to be there! Amazing opportunity to find love and we all deserve it! Cheers, bitches!”
Really she was just excited to have another week of makeout sessions with Nick.
“Come and get it, Nick!” she screamed. And then she bit the head off her rose. No joke. I shit you not. Bit. The. Head. Off. A. Rose.
The girls couldn’t figure out how PV skated through another week and speculated it must be because Nick’s only keeping girls with whom he has potential. Hmm…interesting hypothesis, ladies. Next you’ll spend your days building a robotic laboratory and launching it into space.
The next day Chris Harrison arrived with exciting news. They were about to embark on a journey around the globe!
“Pack your booty shorts and Vagisil! You’re going to Milwaukee!”
What? Milwaukee’s on a globe.
It also happened to be Nick’s hometown (give or take 75 miles) so the girls were beside themselves at the thought of being the third TV-found girlfriend he brought home to his parents.
And speaking of parents, Nick met those sweet, normal, beaten down people at a local coffee shop where his mom burst out crying at the sight of him and his dad made Nick promise this will be the last goddamn time he tries to find a wife on a stupid ass TV show.
“Aren’t there any chat rooms you could hang out in? Or a nice Coyote Ugly waitress with low self-esteem? We really don’t want to see you on this show again.”
“It’s totally different this time, Dad!” Nick explained. “Some of these girls come with their own nanny! And I’ve already touched like 17 ½ bare breasts!”
And then Nick cried because they were making him so sad.
Danielle L. got the first one-on-one date and wow, what a treat! Nick dragged her around his hometown showing her sites like the library where he made-out with girls and the hill where he had a lot of “firsts.”
Their wholesome adventure continued at a bakery where they decorated cookies in their image and used their tongues to smear frosting all over each other’s faces.
As luck would have it they ran into one of Nick’s ex-girlfriends. NO WAY! And because things weren’t scripted and contrived enough, Nick was all like, “Let’s totally hang out with her!”
Amber, the ex, gave Danielle advice. “He’s like…heart driven…you know? That’s what everyone is missing.”
Right. Totes. Heart driven. What everyone’s missing. So weird that it didn’t work out between you two. Later, Amber!
Nick thought Danielle L. was super nice, but just knew there was more to see. Fortunately, at dinner she forgot to wear a shirt so Nick could see exactly what it was.
She credited her parent’s messy divorce with why she won’t rush into relationships– unless it’s on TV. Then it’s game on! They ended the night in what looked like a school auditorium watching some guy sing while people cheered at them. Much making-out ensued.
The group date card arrived. It read: Say Cheese
Hmm, this was a stumper! Why cheese? What does that have to do with Wisconsin? Everyone’s name but Raven’s was on the card meaning God’s Favorite Goth Girl would be going on a one-on-one.
The teats were out in full force as the girls donned their finest heels and infinity scarves to meet Nick at a dairy farm. Oh!!! Cheese!!! I get it!!! There they shoveled poop, fed cows, marveled at how smelly a farm is, and watched Nick bottle feed a baby cow.
“It’s so wonderful to see!” They gushed as they fantasized about Nick being an absentee father they spend a decade arguing with in family court.
PV begged to differ. This was not her scene. There were flies everywhere and no nanny to swat them away. She didn’t want to do chores! Especially farm chores! She wouldn’t even make Raquel do farm chores!
Nick attempted to milk a cow, but got schooled in the whole, “this is how you touch a teat” business by the one-time lesbian, Jaime.
PV could not escape the poop. It was everywhere!
“Poop poop here. A poop poop there! There a poop, here a poop, everywhere a poop poop! Wah! I need sushi!”
Her fingers hurt from holding a device commonly used for manual labor so she had to go find a nice, comfy rock and take a sit down. Look, she respected the other girls for shoveling shit, but that ain’t her jam. And she had a serious hand situation going on. She couldn’t move her finger!
Girls called (cow?)bullshit and later PV overheard them talking about how sick of talking about her they were.
Inspired by her trip to the farm, PV ran off and compared herself to an ear of corn.
“Peel back that silky husk and see my little golden pellets of…information. Juicy, buttery information. You want to get to that corn. NICK NEEDS THAT CORN!”
Buoyed by the juicy, buttery information popping up inside of her, PV decided it was time to get wasted, take a power nap, and put an end to this bitter back talk.
“They think I’m just a bubbly little dumbo,” she said. “But I’m not! I know what’s going on! Bartender!”
She gathered the girls together and admitted she might not be everyone’s favorite, but if she did something to offend them then by all means tell her.
Okay, then! It was clucking cacophony as the hens rushed to tell PV how offensive she was.
“You’re not genuinely ready to marry a 36 year-old man!”
“Did you really lug that bouncy castle all the way here? Because those things are heavy!”
“You rubbed your bare boobs all over Nick’s chest! You probably gave him some disgusting STD like hives or eczema or an ingrown chest hair!”
“You can NOT nap through a rose ceremony! It’s the law!”
Taylor, the mental health counselor who is clearly infiltrating these women as part of some interactive PhD thesis, called her immature to which PV countered: Do you call these immature!”
PV was appalled at the stupidity and ignorance and pettiness of her fellow wives-to-be. These bitches were pissed off over a little shut-eye and minor sexual assault in a bouncy castle? Please.
“I didn’t mean to offend anyone by taking a nap,” PV said. “MICHAEL JORDAN TOOK A NAP! ABRAHAM LINCOLN TOOK A NAP!”
Besides, it apparently was a very stressful week around Bachelor Mansion so she needed her bouncy castle to decompress. She was having a panic attack, okay?
Nope. Not okay. The hens started shrieking again, which somehow comforted PV and made her believe everything was okay. Even though she loved everyone again, she still wanted to tell Nick how mean and dumb and poopie they were being to her. Nick listened, nodded along, but for inexplicable reasons other than she had a visible cold sore, didn’t kiss her.
“That’s okay,” PV claimed. “We had more of an adult conversation tonight. No time for kissing.”
Kristina, the Russian hygienist, got the date rose.
Raven got the stupidest one-on-one date in Bachelor history, but she was too dumb to notice. “If I could choose to have a one-on-one anywhere in the world it would here!”
Really, Raven? A Milwaukee suburb is your dream date locale?
They pop by Nick’s little sister’s soccer game where– surprise!– they run into Nick’s sad parents. They took one look at Raven and were forced to imagine stuffing Christmas stockings with black eyeliner and ichthys-adorned socks and started crying again. Whatever happened to that sweet Amber girl?
The date continued its downward spiral at a roller rink where they shot the duck and flew the camel with a bunch of twelve year-olds.
At dinner, Raven talked about her last serious relationship, which ended when she discovered her boyfriend in bed with another woman.
“You walked in while they were…doing it?” Nick asked.
“Like I know what her vagina looks like,” Raven said.
“Oh man, sorry. Isn’t there a Super 8 in your hometown? That dumbass should have been more careful.”
“…and then I bashed his head in with that whore’s stilleto. The end. Pass the bread basket please!”
Nick found Raven “interesting” and “sassy,” both common adjectives used when describing a psychopath. Noting the height and pointiness of her shoes and the softness of his skull, Nick handed Raven the date rose and spent the rest of the date rocking back and forth in the arms of a PA.
The rose ceremony was held in a freezing barn outfitted with only one 17 inch swatch of blanket. Danielle L., that whore, and her rose immediately squirreled Nick away, causing the other girls to question her integrity, loyalty, motives, natural hair color, mother’s maiden name, and tolerance to gluten. Hoes before roses, bitch!
Taylor, with no shits left to give, sparred with PV before running off to interrupt Danielle L. and Nick.
PV and a drag queen– wait, nope, that was Josephine– talked about how disgusting Taylor was what with all those degrees and covered up body parts. Clearly Taylor wasn’t here for the right reasons. If she were, she’d be taking advantage of all this free food.
After shoving 34 chicken nuggets and a bowl of spinach artichoke dip into her tyrannosaurus-esque maw, Josephine channeled PV’s nanny and gently reminded her to chew her food.
Full up on deep fried courage, PV took Taylor outside to yell at her.
And now, a drama in one-act:
PV: They way you’re treating me is disgusting and really mean.
Taylor: You have Velveeta on your lip.
PV: I hate you.
Taylor: Well, your feelings will get hurt if you keep asking people to tell you why they think you suck.
PV: Why do you think I suck?
Taylor: You’re too young and immature. And you have a nanny. Oh, and you’re dumb. And lack emotional intelligence
PV: Ha! Emotions aren’t intelligent! Who lacks intelligence now, ya dummy?
Taylor: It’s a thing.
PV: Well, you’re playing Miss Proper. So there.
Taylor: I’m not. I’m just way smarter than you.
PV: I WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE! Like LITERALLY punch you in your FACE!
Aw, crap, that’s where it ended! Well sort of. You’ve got to keep watching past the previews to get these fabulous outtakes of Nick and Alexis. In this episode, Alexis confessed the two things she’s most afraid of: Nicolas Cage and aliens.
“Do you think any of the girls here might be aliens?” Nick asked.
Alexis pondered this thoughtfully before nodding. “Raven.”
Shit’s getting real at Bachelor Mansion! The gloves are off. And if you’re PV or Danielle L., probably your shirt is too.