Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Bachelor Chris Episode 11: Will You (Maybe) Marry Me?

Hello, Readers.  Welcome to this season’s final installment.  As always, I appreciate the patience.   It’s been almost 48 hours since our forlorn farmer sent a much preferred but overly equivocal virgin away from the frozen corn fields of Iowa back to sunny San Diego in favor of a less desired fertility nurse anxious have her own heretofore barren field fertilized.  If Becca was the Dust Bowl then Whitney was the Fertile Crescent. 


Hi, I'm Becca.  I don't love you. 

Hi, I'm Whitney.  Impregnate me.  


Speaking of Fertile Crescents, I was shocked to see that we didn’t get an update on Ashley and J.P.’s syncretic bundle of joy on the After the Final Rose show.  I suppose this season had enough excitement to fill the generously allotted 3 hours of prime time programming we were given to see how the last 10 weeks shook out.  I’m happy they spared us the hazy view of Ashley’s uterus.    

Before we get to the big recap, let me say congratulations to Whitney and Chris (in that order).  I say it every season.  I believe that moment—whether its on a hastily constructed platform on a lush tropical island or in a dirty barn in Iowa—is a moment when the two people involved truly feel as if they’ve reached their destination. 

Granted, reality will soon present them both with a swift kick to the groin, but for that moment, things must seem perfect.  Cynicism aside, we ought to recognize that.  Very few moments in life hold within them that level of promise and optimism.  Every season I wish the newly minted couple well and every season I mean it.  I hope Whitney and Chris double the population of Arlington, Iowa. 

Let’s get to it. 

Let’s start by reviewing my December 2014 predictions for both ladies.  I wrote:   

Becca, 26, Chiropractic Assistant.  Great bio.  Attractive.  No bling and an understated Coral shirt that hides the shoulders and is tastefully unbuttoned.  Real boobs, subtle makeup, and she's not bleach blond.  That's how you do a headshot, ladies.  Based on looks and bio alone, Top 4.

Not bad, Some Guy.  Not bad. 

Whitney, 29, Fertility Nurse.  She can't go anywhere without her razor, will try anything once, and likes to pursue men.  Sounds like a hell of a night in the Fantasy Suite to me.  Then again, having a razor wielding fertility nurse who's desperate to get married chase after me is not very enticing.  

I suppose that one proved to be accurate as well.  I had a reader send me a nasty comment earlier in the season accusing me of secretly reading Reality Stan and then doctoring my picks to make myself seem wise.  Frankly, this season was one of my worst in the way of predictions.  I picked Jade and Tracy the school teacher as finalists.  Frankly, I never saw Whitney coming until about 3 weeks ago.  For the record, the only Bachelor blog I read besides my own is www.ihategreenbeans.com.

Yes, it’s time for our farmer to pick his favorite hoe.  Keeping our Tour De Midwest in tact we begin with our confused Bachelor roaming the hoary (or is it whorey?) cornfields of Arlington, Iowa in search of clarity.  By “confused” I am, of course, referring to the selection of the skinny jeans and peacoat combination rather than his inability to decide between Whitney and Becca. 

I’m pretty certain he didn’t pick that outfit up at the local general store.  He should have shucked off that entire getup in favor of clothes he can throw a hay bale while wearing.  Farming isn’t for everyone, but hay, it’s in his jeans.

This is what real farmers wear. 

Another great pun:



It’s time to meet the whole fam damily on their own turf.  Whitney is first up after a refreshing stay at the local Arlington Inn—Free TV, Clean Beds, Vacancy.  I can just see her blow dryer dimming the entire Arlington power grid as she struggled to find enough counter space amongst the chipped linoleum single vanity to accommodate her tackle box filled with assorted creams, gels, and powders.



Not surprisingly, Whitney continues to push the ball down the field into the red zone by closing, closing, and closing again.  She closed in her one-on-one time, closed with mom, closed with dad, closed at the dinner table, closed with Wilson Phillips in the living room, and probably closed with the sheep in the barn when the cameras weren’t rolling.  By the time she left the only things more closed than that family were Becca’s legs.  I’ll give Whitney credit for the sales pitch.  Hell, I have to admit that I believed it.   

Signed, The Soules Family

Speaking of Becca.  She arrives, the ying to Whitney’s yang, after Chris has an opportunity to pow wow with the dudes in the sheet metal version of the Lair of Seclusion about the ups and downs of both women.  I knew that was set up.  Breast size was never discussed.  Trust me, breast size is always a factor.  And before you male-bash me, I just want to make a couple of points. 

First, allow me to point out the double standard.  Every single woman who senses an impending wedding proposal will at some point loudly profess to whomever is within ear shot something like, “I really don’t care what the ring looks like or how big the diamond is, I just want to know that he loves me and wants to marry me.” 

Bullshit.

95% of women care what the ring looks like and how big the diamond is and the other 5% are lying about it.  Proof?  The first thing a group of engagement hungry women will do upon hearing the announcement that their friend is engaged will be to feign excitement while simultaneously grabbing her left hand in order to inspect the ring.  What’s my point?  Boobs are men’s diamond engagement rings.  They count.  Deal with it. 

Final point, all shapes and sizes of boobs are in play.  Unlike the diamond, bigger is not necessarily better but every man wants some peace of mind in that category.  Hell, if I had a pair of boobs I’d never leave the house.  Wouldn’t it be great if men were allowed to grab a buddy’s fiancé and inspect her boobs upon hearing about the engagement like women inspect the engagement ring? 

Yes, it would.  Back to the recap.

Becca makes the mistake(?) of being honest with Chris’ family.  What Whitney was to closing the deal Becca was to avoiding any commitment whatsoever to picking up her 72 degree, sunny skies, beach-within-10-minutes life and moving to Iowa to get engaged to a man she’s dated collectively with 25 other women for a month.  Crazy, I know.  She was like modus ponens personified.  I was stricken by just how much the sheer rationality and logical thinking stood out when juxtaposed next to what we’ve grown to expect as the norm on this show.  


Who said a Philosophy degree was worthless?  


After an excruciating talk with Chris’ mom, Becca refuses to drink the Arlington Punch.  Prior to the show I wasn’t sure how many ways a person could communicate she wasn’t ready to get married to a stranger and move across the country but Becca came close to hitting them all.  Ironically, she was as strong in her resolve as Whitney was in hers.  Unfortunately for Chris, she made it clear she was resolved not to jump into a bad decision.  He tried selling.  She just wasn’t buying. 

Chris resigns himself to being nagged by Whitney’s high-pitched voice instead of Becca’s inability to commit and has the ABC intern write Whitney’s name in calligraphy on the envelope containing the generic invitation for the winner to ride heavy farm equipment with him the morning before the rose ceremony.

Dear Honey,

I’ve decided I love you and I’d like you to ride farm equipment with me in my flannel shirt and vest before the rose ceremony. 

Love, Chris

P.S. (dress like Jackie Kennedy).






I was relieved to see Chris retire the pseudo farmer attire carefully selected for him by a couple of Los Angeles residents who had never been to Iowa in exchange for his regular jeans and trusty vest.  I think vests are all about protection.  You know, like a life vests protect people from drowning and bulletproof vests protect people from getting shot, and sweater vests protect people from getting laid.

We all knew what direction he was leaning.  It’s too bad he talked himself into going the other direction. 

Rose Ceremony

Becca looked incredible.  I cannot recall another rose ceremony where any other contestant looked as good.  Yes, that includes Emily Maynard.  I’m sure that made letting her go far more difficult than risking frostbite in the barn.  It was also impossible not to wonder what would have happened had a staffer accidentally knocked over one of those candles into the bone dry hay scattered all over the place.  If you discount the time that Roberto almost sweated to death, this was clearly the most dangerous rose ceremony in Bachelor history. 

Whitney shows up looking alright (I’ve told you she doesn’t do it for me) and Chris drops to one knee to pull out the Neil Lane hardware and pop the big question after Whitney finally shut up.  Note to women:  Proposing to you is a nerve-racking ordeal, no matter how sure a man is.  If you even remotely sense that it’s going to happen, please give your man a lot of leeway and please be quiet.  If a guy has gone through the trouble to get the ring, he’s sure about asking you.  

Shakespeare wrote “the course of true love never did run smooth,” in a Midsummer Night’s Dream. I found that quote appropriate in light of the fact that Shakespeare wrote that comedy about the wedding of two people surrounded by a group of actors who are manipulated and controlled by a group of mischievous fairies in the forest.  That reminds me of a certain show.  Substitute midsummer for midwinter and 86 the forest for a cornfield and it makes a bit more sense.    

Indeed the course of love is not often smooth.   Chris and Whitney seem to have a lot on their newly unified plates before life slows down and a real move to Iowa becomes a possibility.  Dancing with the Stars, the press caravan, and a whole host of red carpets to walk stand firmly between them and the corn field.  

Let’s hope that when the red carpet gets rolled up and they make the 3 hour drive from the Des Moines airport back to Arlington they’ve had some time to figure things out.  Let’s also hope that Whitney doesn’t let the boredom of the farm talk her into dusting off this season’s DVD and watching Chris suck face with all 25 women.  Not watching was the best decision she's made in months.  

Well, there it is.  Another season in the bag.  I hope y’all enjoyed it as much as I did.  This was a good one and it was fun to write about.  I’m not naïve (or conceited) enough to think that all of you will stick around in the off season, but for those of you who do, check in regularly.  I’m committed to posting.  For those of you who will forget about me until our double Bachelorette experiment (that’s a horrible idea) next season, please take care of yourselves and I hope you’ll check in again when the show starts.  

Spring is approaching and, as always, it signals a time of renewal.  Lord knows we can all use a dose of that once a year.  I’ll be here when you’re ready to log on.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be reading Harrison’s novel.  DP

   

 




Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Patience is a Virtue, not a town in Iowa

Hello, Readers.  


Happy End of Bachelor season.  I'd say the big finale wasn't that big after all.  Nothing quite says I love you like shivering in a barn ogling a freshly placed Neil Lane ring.  

The post will be up WEDNESDAY evening.  Frankly, I don't have time to write until then.  In the meantime, chime in via Comments or on Twitter @someguyinaustin.

We'll talk soon. 

DP

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Bachelor Chris Episode 10: Random Thoughts

Hello, Readers.  I’m sorry for my tardiness.  Work has been a killer this week.  Since that keeps the lights on around here, the blog had to take the back burner.  Oh yea, and I also went out one night as a stress reliever and failed to find a mechanical bull to ride after a few Lone Stars.  I should probably be thankful.  

For those of you who share my profession, I’m certain you can appreciate it when I say that I deserve a lot of recognition for being able to separate my job from this blog.  For those of you who don’t share my profession, trust me.  You don’t want to read a blog about the pitfalls of a career in litigation.  Frankly, it would be more rewarding watching corn grow. 

Speaking of growing corn, we have a few things to discuss.  As I mentioned in my pre-post message and on Twitter (@someguyinaustin), this week’s post will consist of my thoughts on the season, the upcoming finale, reader email questions, and a sprinkling of the Women Tell All moments I forced myself to watch.  I’ll skip around, circle back, and give you a big fat dose of random thoughts.  Let’s get to it.

“Why Can’t You Recap the WTA?”

Look, if I’m honest, I hate that show.  It’s gotten worse every season too.  Admittedly, Harrison is as engaged as he’s been in many seasons, but even his adeptness at finding the perfect zinger of a question after a pregnant pause cannot overcome my literal disdain for the cat fighting and pettiness of it all.  The show quickly ceases to be interesting and devolves into every episode of the Real Housewives of (insert city).  

Carly certainly didn’t do anything to resuscitate her reputation as a nice person.  She continued to show a bitter, almost vengeful side against Britt.  The new extensions and eyebrow tweeze couldn’t hide her fangs.  She left her last rose ceremony oozing pathos.  The only thing she oozed at the WTA was venom.   Shame. 

Kaitlyn is the next Bachelorette.  Her lip injection, hair color makeover, and her noticeable silence were all big clues.  No way they let Britt squirm in her chair and ugly cry like that if she’s the big pick.  Frankly, I’m relieved.  I think Kaitlyn will make a good Bachelorette.  She’s quirky, funny, and she has tattoos.  That should make things interesting. 

Oh, and check this out:  Chris on Ellen

2:20 mark.  Chris on Whitney:  "she looks like a mother...she is a mother.” 

A reader sent that clip to me asking what it means.  Hell, I don’t know.  I think it’s safe to assume she’s the big Ticket to Iowa winner next week.  Maybe they found the only thing besides corn farming worth doing in Iowa. 

 “I want to know your thoughts on Britt and Kelsey.”

Britt is a spoiled brat who is used to getting her way in just about every situation she encounters.  Granted, that doesn’t yet apply to her acting career but it appears it applies in every other aspect of her life.  To be fair, rejection of any kind is a difficult pill to swallow and being rejected by a pack of rabid women in sequins on national television would make a lot of people want to cry.  She overdid it with the crying, though. 

My feeling is that she was more upset about her image than she was about being “falsely” accused of being duplicitous.  I wasn’t buying it.  I also think it was glaringly apparent to Chris that the only thing Britt has in common with Iowa is the letter “I”. 

Kelsey.  Probably the fakest person to ever grace the Bachelor cast.  She can chalk all of her terrifying laughs and “misconstrued” comments about her dead husband to her way of coping with things.  However, sociopathic behavior is not a coping mechanism.  I’m just glad that she and Sanderson (rest his soul) didn’t have kids for her to ruin before he passed away.  Using big words doesn’t make a person smart.  The only thing she needs to ameliorate is her personality.    

 “Why didn't Jillian punch Chris Harrison when he whistled at her to shut her up? Why is that allowed?”

Jillian could clearly put Harrison on the deck with a right hook.  However, I think Harrison found the only way to shut her up.  I’ve said in the past that there must be a very nice side of Jillian.  She seemed to have a decent sense of humor, is clearly driven, and while not my type, is an attractive woman.  The hyper-aggressive behavior was a huge turn off, though.  If they showed her on the WTA ranting for 30 seconds before he told her to pipe down, then it likely went on for several minutes in real life.  I’m sure Harrison was sick of it.  Sorry, but I have to side with him on that one. 

Do I have any advice for Jillian?  Yes.  Be yourself, relax, and stop trying to prove whatever it is you’re trying (too hard) to prove.  Being rough around the edges has its charm.  Using those rough edges abrasively does not. 

Will you read Harrison’s novel?”

Hell yes.  I’m currently reading John Dean’s latest book called “The Nixon Defense.”  Watergate is one of my favorite subjects so I’ll have to finish that prior to picking up “The Perfect Letter.”

Good for Harrison.  It’s nice to see he actually has the integrity to stiff arm the obvious behind-the-scenes tell-all book that would instantly be a best seller for a book of his own creation that, presumably, means something to him.  The guy works 4 minutes a week until the Tell All Show.  I’m surprised he hasn’t written 10 books by now.  He has more down time than the Sherriff of Arlington, Iowa.  I’ll certainly review the book on the blog when I read it. 

“I want to know if there are any points you and Mrs. Some Guy disagree on, i.e., does she consider Jade's Playboy photos a mistake, did Chris kiss too many girls, etc.”

I ran this one by Mrs. SGIA at dinner the other night.  Surprisingly, we agree on just about everything concerning the show.  In fact, she has a more visceral reaction to some of the blatantly dumb mistakes the girls make on the show than I do.  I know that answer is boring, but it’s true. 

In light of that, here are a few things we do, in fact, disagree on. 

I disagree that $300 is a reasonable price to pay for a furry blanket that goes on the bed even if it was on post-Christmas double extra secret discount sale at Restoration Hardware.  I also disagree that $150 is a reasonable price to pay for an identical, albeit smaller, version of the aforementioned furry blanket for the living room couch “because it’s so comfortable in the bedroom we need one out here.”  That gives me post-Christmas double extra secret heartburn. 

I disagree that every room needs “whimsy” and a “punch of color.” 

I disagree that “essential oils” don’t make the house smell like a massage parlor.  If the oils are really “essential” then how have I made it my entire life without them?  The only essential oil, as far as I’m concerned, is motor oil. 

That should cover it for now.  I hope that answers your question. 

Final thoughts on the big finale:

The girls got screwed on travel this season.  Harrison’s raise must be eating up the travel budget.  Maybe he’ll donate some of the book proceeds to next season’s travel kitty.  We’ve gone from Switzerland to Iowa.  You might say we’ve gone from Matter-horn to Matter-corn.

Chris is a decent guy and I think he carried himself well this season.  He made some bonehead moves but seemed genuine.  His fear of the Iowa move is certainly legit and my guess is that it will prove to be the catalyst that ends his relationship with whoever he picks.

Whitney is the winner, I think.  Becca will care for a few minutes but she’ll get over it. 

Jade was my favorite—Playboy pictures, arrests, and wild stallions and all.  It appeared that her family has submarined her in the past and while she played it close to the vest, it was clear she wasn’t happy with the information Chris got from them.  And yes, it was the pictures, Jade.  You’ll be living with them for the rest of your life.   Don’t treat it like a mistake and you’ll be surprised at how much it will no longer matter. 

Most immature?  Ashley I. 

Coolest?  Becca.

Girls I wish stuck around?   Jordan and Tara. 

Well, there it is.  My thoughts and musings in addition to answers to a few pressing questions.  I know I’m phoning it in this week.  It’s been a tough week.  I’ll bring it hard core for Monday’s finale.  

As always, thank you all for reading and bringing me real joy for writing a meaningless blog.  Take care of yourselves.  Make sure you’re final bets on the finale are distributed in order to minimize your losses.  Comment, tweet, and discuss.  I’ll post after the big finale.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be trying to return a couple blankets.  DP


Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Some Guy Reflects

All,
 
I've decided to post generally about my thoughts about the season and the Women Tell All.  Although, I have to confess that I could not bring myself to endure the entire show.  Between my honky tonk schedule and my work schedule, time has been less abundant than the available electorate in Arlington, Iowa this week. 
 
I'll be posting late this evening so you'll all have a time killer to enjoy at work on Thursday.  In the meantime, if you have any questions, thoughts, suggestions, or requests for the post, please send them to me in the Comments section below and I'll do my Some Guy best to incorporate them into the post. 
 
Enjoy your Hump Day--and by that I mean Wednesday, not the Fantasy Suite episode. 
 

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Chris Episode 9: I Can Bali Wait to Hin-Do You

Amazing Count 113
Journey Count 24

Hello, Readers.  Welcome back to this week’s installment.  Some Guy is fresh of an exhausting trip to New Orleans.  I got home on Sunday.   My BAC is almost below the legal limit.  Ooof.  It’s Fantasy Week or, as I refer to it, Get Out of Jail Free Week.  

Yes, it’s that time of season.  It’s time for our Bachelor to travel to the “perfect place to fall in love,” grab a catamaran (or its equivalent) ride before anchoring and jumping into the crystal blue ocean with an “amazing woman”, and then mull around the tropical island paradise belittling the local culture all in the name of getting to an outdoor, tiki-lit dinner, pounding some wine, and foregoing the foreplay for a few one night stands in the Fantasy Suite.

I know.  That paragraph is as boring and predictable Monday’s episode.  Well, that is until I tell you that I wrote it on Sunday night.   It’s like I’m psychic or something. 

I think he bangs them all.

Sigh . . .

Chris shows up for his 3-minute standard intro in Bali, which, of course, is part of the Poontang  Archipelago.   He broods.  He reflects.  He pontificates.  He strolls.  He changes pastel colored shirts 8 times.  At first I thought that was just a cleverly edited montage hastily thrown together over the course of a few days in order to adequately capture our conflicted Bachelor’s feelings. 

However, after watching the episode it was clear that Chris needed a shirt change every 10 minutes.  The guy sweats like a whore in church, for crying out loud.  I wondered if he either had diabetes (probably Type II if appearance is any indication) or he was related to Roberto.  By the current geographic rationale, the Chance of Falling in Love is directly proportionate to the Relative Humidity.  

There’s bound to be a perfect place to fall in love where the relative humidity isn’t 100%.  Hey, ABC, how about relocating the big finale somewhere not between the Equator and the Tropic of Capricorn?  Nabokov wrote of Humbert’s Lolita, “nymphets do not occur in polar regions.”  I suppose that’s as good an answer as any.   

Kaitlyn Date. 

Date one.  We learn that she and Chris are in for some sacred temple touring and some fun with banana hungry monkeys.   Being the lead off batter in Fantasy Suite dates is like being the top 2X6 in the lumber pile meant for the backyard deck:  you’ll definitely be the first to get laid down, screwed, and stepped on. 

I'm falling in love with this board. 

Speaking of banana hungry monkeys, Kaitlyn steps off the lumber pile in her pink shorts and artfully executes the first Jump, Wrap, and Hug greeting of the episode.  You have to love a lady, don’t you?  Honestly, the only time I ever see that in “real” life is when a five-year old girl sees her father headed toward her at the Baggage Claim in the airport after he’s been gone for the week.   

Sure, you can’t kiss in the sacred Balinese temple but, apparently, you can throw yourself crotch-first at the dude you’re sharing with two other women just a stone’s throw from the aforementioned sacred temple.  She rode him like a plastic horse in front of the grocery store.

Ride me like a Bachelor in Bali

The date didn’t hold much mystery.  It was pretty much the same date as the Love Guru Date with Carly.  Well, if you substitute simulated fornication for actual fornication.  They talked a lot about nothing, watched the monkeys imitate Kaitlyn and kissed a safe distance from the temple amongst the smell of rotting bananas and monkey feces before foregoing the foreplay and heading to the Fantasy Suite for a sweaty romp in the malaria-proof bed.  Perfect place, indeed.

I will say this about Kaitlyn.  I thought she looked as pretty as she’s looked all season and she did actually back off the funny girl routine and let her guard down.  Chris’ “I’m falling in love with you too” and “I can see a life with you in Iowa” comments throughout the date didn’t help it when the inevitability of her departure became apparent to her at the Rose Ceremony.   The hurt in her face when he chose Becca over her was genuine and the regret was evident.  For what it’s worth, she has my vote for the next Bachelorette.  

In the meantime, Whitney was in her hotel room with a bottle of Chardonnay getting hammered while Chris was out getting nailed. 

Whitney Date. 

First of all, she’s not attractive.  Second of all, she walks like a man.  Whitney meets Chris with her own version of the Jump, Wrap, and Hug and Chris greets her with yet another version of the same outfit he’s been wearing all episode.  I began to wonder if the shorts were reversible.  He was likely wearing Garanimals for sweaty farmers.  It was at this time I realized that she has no upper lip either.  Perhaps fate does exist. 

Whitney, not one to waste time, harkens back to last week’s open wound by mentioning her bitchy sister’s refusal to bless her potential engagement, iffy move to Iowa, as-yet-to-be-determined wedding date, and her non-existent children.  

Of course, all of this was offset by the new ABC cameraman who apparently also moonlights as the resident voyeur.  I thought I was being forced to watch another ultrasound this show.  If Whitney’s gynecologist would have seen that video, he would have undoubtedly exclaimed, “even I haven’t seen that angle before.”  Good Lord.  ABC should have saved the plane fare and the hotel room and just had Whitney hold the camera between her knees the entire date.  If you looked close enough you could see what she had for breakfast.

Boat ride on a fake pirate ship.  Blah, blah, blah . . . beautiful place to fall in love . . . she’s sure . . . she’s ready . . . she won’t shut up.  I wished he would have battened down her hatches.  Whitney was also orange.  Really orange.  Like the sun orange.  Apparently, they sell bronzer in Bali.  There’s no way that she used less than the 3 ounce tube she’d be allowed to take on the plane.  She looked like a basketball.  When she jumped off the boat the Indian Ocean almost turned into the Red Sea. 

Note to you ladies, spray tans and bronzers are the female versions of the toupee or the comb over.  It’s patently obvious.  Tans are like heels.  At some point they quickly graduate from tasteful to ridiculous.  Subtlety is an art.  Trashiness is an affliction.  Less is more.  No guy wants to look at you across the fake pirate ship and wonder if you’ve developed a liver problem from eating some kind of Balinese blowfish.  A healthy tan is attractive.  Jaundice is a serious medical condition.



Chris and Whitney enjoy a lovely outdoor dinner while the Fantasy Suite staff changes the sheets and flips the mattress.  Whitney listens to Chris’ Arlington, Iowa speech.  "Can you handle it," he wonders aloud.  In exchange, she gives him the “I want kids right away” speech.  

Wow. 

Moving from a town of several million to a town of less than 500 and popping out a couple of kids on the pasture is not a good idea.  There’s no Curves or spray tan place in Arlington, Iowa and there’s no one who is going to watch the kid all day while you put on your Lululemon gear and pretend to go to yoga before heading to Starbucks with a friend to bitch about your husband.  How long do you think before the “I told you” call from her bitchy sister gets made? 

They forgo the foreplay and head to the Fantasy Suite.  I can only imagine how orange those sheets looked the next morning.  They likely looked like a pornographic version of the Shroud of Turin.


    

Becca Date. 

“Yea, we know she’s a virgin,” I said into my Lone Star as Becca’s voiceover failed to make me ignore her silky shirt/Dolphin shorts combo.  What was that?

I'm a virgin. 


Look, she’s a bit dry but I’ve liked her all season. She’s been consistently nice, non-controversial, modest, and she hasn’t complained once.  Did I mention she’s a virgin?  She and Chris don sarongs and get some advice from the resident soothsayer who can evidently predict the future of their relationship but not the presence of Becca’s virginity.  Que sarong sarong, I suppose.        


After toweling off, Chris meets Becca for dinner. She’s very (and understandably) trepidatious about moving to Iowa.  Ironically, Becca had the most realistic take on the move to Iowa and a relationship with Chris.  Sadly, Chris had the least enthusiastic reaction.  

I thought she was articulate and incredibly spot on when she said things like, “I have strong feelings and I love where were going” but I’m not about to move to a town of 500 people until I’m sure.  Sadly, all he wanted to hear was “I’ll throw all caution to the wind for an opportunity to be an Iowa housewife in an isolated corn field.”   


Finally, Becca drops “I’m a virgin.  You know, a real one, not the Ashley I. kind of virgin."  The look on his face was priceless.  You could almost hear his brain screaming, “another one?”  I was waiting for him to respond,  “It’s ok, I’m a little sore from the last two nights.”  

Sadly, he sputtered and spit like an old outboard motor trying to answer her "striking" revelation in a politically correct way.  He actually gained some traction (eventually) and made her feel like a decent person rather than Quasimodo about having other interests beyond her vagina.  
 

Since when is being a virgin before marriage equivalent to leprosy?  She’s like the reverse Hester Prynne.  “A pure hand needs no glove to cover it,” wrote Hawthorne in The Scarlet Letter.  I wonder what it says about our culture today that perhaps it does. 


"She’d better keep that virgin thing quiet or she might end up getting kidnapped by the Balinese natives and thrown into a volcano," I said to Mrs. SGIA.  Like Chris, she wasn't listening either.  Becca walks on the beach away from nearby volcanoes. 


Chris is confused.  Chris ponders and cries.  “Where the hell is Harrison!?!?” I exclaimed.  

Harrison, fresh off some parasailing and fruity cocktails with Neil Lane, shows up in the Lair of Seclusion.  He bro hugs it out with Chris over a pair of untouched glasses of tea with some bendy straws.  He stirs the pot. 

Chris:              Help me.

OHCH:           Tough week.  Becca told you she’s a virgin.

Chris:              Yea.  She did.

OHCH:           If you send her home, you mind if I make a run at it? 

Chris:              Well, I . . .

OHCH:           You’ve got a tough day ahead of you.  I’m going to                         the limbo contest.  I’m out. 

Samuan Tiga Temple Rose Ceremony. 

After martial arts practice with Harrison, everyone shows up for the rose ceremony in their martial arts outfits.  Kaitlyn sports newly colored hair compliments of the ABC Pre-Bachelorette Makeover Crew, Whitney sports her Bitchy Resting Face, and Becca Sports the only thing that at this point separates her from the other two after the Fantasy Suite Dates:  her dignity.   

I want to make many young Iowans with you.


That's Vivien Leigh, by the way. 

Chris pulls Becca away for a “why don’t you love me like the others do” talk.  She holds the line but balks enough to tip the balance between her and Kaitlyn.  He walks back in the ceremony with Becca after Kaitlyn and Whitney have written her off.  I was waiting for one of them to exclaim, "Oh no you tai kwon don't!"  No luck.    

Kaitlyn faces the inevitability of her fate.  Both Whitney and Becca made an effort to grab her hand and hug her after the elimination.  I’ll give Kaitlyn a pass for not reciprocating.  She looked pretty humiliated and even said as much as she got into the “let’s drive around the island for three hours and talk about how miserable you are” limo.  Based on her the forced conversation with Chris she had to be wondering if slapping was permitted in the temple.  

Note to Chris:  When you dump a girl after you’ve told her you’re falling in love with her, sworn you could see a life with her, gotten her commitment to move to Bum F*ck, Iowa, and then capped it all off with a big bang in the Fantasy Suite she likely gave up out of a sense of obligation and a sign of her true commitment, please don’t tell her things to make yourself feel better.  

Be a man and just let her go.  Deal with your end of it on your own rather than putting it on her shoulders.  In short, if a rooster crows  three times that’s probably a sign to shut up. 

Whitney vs. Becca in the big finale. 

Gone:  Kaitlyn 

She’d be a good Bachelorette.  Better than Britt.

That elimination had to sting, but she'll be over it by the Women Tell All.  They always are.  Hey, Kaitlyn, your fellow Canadian, Wayne Gretzky, once said “you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”  Keep shooting.  You’ll score eventually.  That seemed to work out pretty well for Wayne.  

Look at his wife.  

I love Canadians.


. . . and his daughter. 


I love Some Guy in Austin


No wonder they call him The Great One.  

Women Tell All next week, folks.  Personally, that’s my least favorite show of the season.  In fact, I hate it.  I haven’t decided if I’ll recap it, but I’ll definitely post something Bachelor related.  Perhaps a Man’s Point of View or a Some Guy Tells All.  Let me know your thoughts and I’ll do my best to deliver.  Take care of yourselves.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be sweating and crying in my judo outfit.  DP