I had one person actually request for me to write my opinions about the Bachelorette and since often times I sent out these little missives and hear crickets chirping in response, I’m going to take that one request as a clear indication that all of you are insanely excited to read all about my take on the quest to find love on reality television.
To begin I should admit the depth of my obsession. Or lack thereof, depending on your perspective. I watched the “Jason” season all the way through because on the season premiere I tuned in to see what people were talking about and realized that Melissa was on the show. Since I remembered her from watching Dallas Cowboy’s Cheerleaders: Making the Team (there is really no excuse for ever watching that reality show – it happened when Maggie was newborn and I was keeping odd hours and eating fruit gushers non-stop) I was hooked.
I refused to watch the Bachelorette with Jillian because I can’t stand her accent. Apparently I’m prejudiced against Canuks.
Then there was Jake... And I talked Isaiah into watching the whole season with me because we had so much to talk about what was wrong with the Jason season that we were intrigued to see if it became a train wreck with Jake. Since Vienna was the final choice there, you can see that our fascination with the wreck was absolutely justified.
OK, deep breath.
I’ve never watched a Bachelorette and I only started tuning in the current season three episodes ago. I vaguely watched the Iceland episode where that stupid guy got a tattoo to prove his love to Ali and she left him standing on a glacier. Then they announced that the next episode would be in Turkey. Since I’ve actually been to Turkey I decided to watch the following week.
After Turkey was Portugal. I have never been to Portugal but I was supposed to go. We made it as far as Sevilla, Spain backpacking, and then we got really tired and decided to sleep instead of board the train to Portugal. I’ve always felt a little guilty about that and so the Bachelorette provided an opportunity to see what I missed when I let laziness decide my daily life.
All this to say, my interaction with the show has been both extensive and limited, depending on your perspective. Isaiah watches it under duress and as a sign of love because then he can snort with me at the ridiculous comments, we can confirm for each other what we think true love should look like, and, well, basically because I steal the remote control and hold him hostage with my puppy-dog eyes and pleas that this counts as quality time spent together.
Two weeks ago one of the guys – Ty, maybe? - made the asinine comment, “I don’t know how it will work between us. If I have to I’ll move to San Francisco and be a trash collector to make it work.” Um... Really? I don’t think so. I predict that he would move, become a garbage man and then as he was tooling down the street, hopping up and down from the street, at some point his mind would wander to the time when he wore a suit to work instead of a jumper (as a random fact, did you know that Yves St. Laurent designed the garbage collector uniform for Paris? That’s a Trivial Pursuit answer for you, promise!). We all know that job stress and happiness has no impact on marital harmony... HA.
“I’m here to give my whole heart to my future spouse.” Yet again... I don’t think so. Having your whole heart to give doesn’t work when you’re actually dating 17 or even three or two people at the same time. In this little planet where I live called Reality the serious spouse-selection dating process is usually best conducted one candidate at a time.
I’ve also noticed that it’s really not so healthy to have all of these men in communal living while vying for one woman’s attention. It’s like a fist fight waiting to happen. With women... It’s kind of like a sorority house. Things might get catty and tears will likely flow, but when it’s men... Dude, someone might get killed.
When Ali went on her date with Roberto in Portugal they frolicked down the streets, taking photos of each other while jumping off of benches, etc. Ali says, “If Roberto and I were together this is what it would be like...” Um... Again, really?! ‘Cause in some countries when you take photos with police officers without explaining yourself you can get arrested. And life is typically not a photo shoot. But if she wants to believe that I guess she can. After all, she says to him, “You’re a mystery to me right now.” Now, in some situations that would be the clarion call that they should... Talk... But, nope, in Bachelorette land that’s actually super-secret code for, “Let’s drink more wine and make out ‘cause you’re so super hot!”
Another date took place on a streetcar with no one else there. This wasn’t so crazy except that I very distinctly remember my own experience on public transportation in Turkey. I was CRAMMED onto the street car with many, many other people and even a chicken or two. I became intimately acquainted with a man’s smelly armpit. It smelled strongly. Like a combination of onions and Limburger cheese*. It was perhaps four inches from my nose as he was holding the ceiling strap and I couldn’t move away because I was sandwiched in between so many people. Solo public transportation is so very, very not realistic. Take that, Ali!
And let’s not forget the kicker of the evening... When Frank confessed to Ali that he’s living with his parents. I don’t know how you feel about the guys living at home, but I’m going to take the judgmental high road and say that if he’s still getting his food cooked and laundry folded by Mommy he may not be quite ready to step into the role of husband. Ali’s response was, “I’m following my heart! If you would live in a tree with me... Let’s live in a tree together like a couple of monkeys.”
Monkey’s?! They throw poo, don’t they?? Hence the need for basic house cleaning skills. On her blog, Ali writes, “When Frank told me about living at home with his parents, I didn’t mind at all. When you care for someone those trivial things don’t matter.” I wonder if it will feel so trivial when she’s trying to go on a date and Frank has to ask Daddy for the keys to the family car or they’re setting their room up and the sibling breaks through the door and changes her facebook status. Trivial doesn’t quite fit my opinion of that little bombshell of news.
*While writing this I asked Isaiah to tell me the name of the smelly cheese they used at my baby shower to play a gag gift. It was so potent that I almost vomited all over the pink baby booties. Anyway, Isaiah Googled the most smelly cheese and came up with Epoisses, a cheese that has actually been banned from being carried on public transportation in France because it’s so stinky. Then I was just plain tickled (as Ali’s Bachelorette candidate wearing fluer-de-lis on his shirt said this week) by the following description: “Epoisses is a very smelly, runny cheese but if it starts to smell to strongly of ammonia, you should throw it away because it’s no longer edible. If it smells like someone who hasn’t showered in a week, enjoy!”
Apparently Ali isn’t the only one showing questionable judgment. The French are eating cheese that smells like ammonia and unwashed body and enjoying it!
JJ
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