UPDATED Ali Bachelorette Episode 11: Roberto Sweats it Out

READERS, DUE TO SOME PERSONAL STUFF AND SOME PROFESSIONAL STUFF I HAVEN'T YET WATCHED AFTR. I KNOW, UNFATHOMABLE, RIGHT? I'LL GET THE POST UP AS SOON AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE. MOST LIKELY, IT WILL BE UP EITHER LATE TONIGHT OR EARLY TOMORROW MORNING. LOOK AT IT THIS WAY: NOW YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO KILL TIME WITH ON A FRIDAY. dp

Well, here we are. It’s the end of another season of the show we all love to hate and here I sit trying to make sense of it all. Before we get started, I have some housekeeping to do. First of all, thanks to all of you for reading Some Guy Tells All and commenting last week. I wasn’t sure how well it would be received, but it appears you liked it. I’ll do more of that sort of thing in the future and I’m happy to get your input on any ideas you have. Also, check out my fan page on Facebook—Guy in Austin—and make yourself a fan. I plan to utilize that a lot more in the future.

Finally, I’ll be writing only about the final rose tonight. Frankly, I’m Bacheloretted out. I’ll watch After the Final Rose and post my run down on Thursday afternoon. I doubt any of you will be upset at the prospect of wasting more of your employer’s valuable time by logging on and snickering to yourself while pretending to work. While it’s true I have the strength of ten men, writing about three hours worth of the show would leave me awake until sun up and, like Roberto, I need my beauty sleep. Let’s get to it.

We begin for the second week in a row in lovely Tahiti where we’re set to meet the famn damily and see which dude they like. Despite our devotion to blogs like this one and recaps of this show in every form of media invented, ABC sees fit to give us a look back. You know, just in case. We see the usual Montage of Losers and revisit the really good losers. Justin, Frank, and Kasey all get some air time and as we look back at the very first cocktail party, we all hit pause a couple of times to say, “Oh yea, I remember that guy. What was his name?” Despite the lack of an answer from our wine swilling friends, we hit play and move on to see Ali choose. After all, she’s “ready to let everything go” she tells us. I found that ironic because judging from the difference in the bikini shots over the course of the season, it appeared that she let everything go a long time ago.

We get shots of the sun freckled sand and a close up of Ali’s sun freckled face. We get more shots of Bora Bora and see Ali arriving from wherever to wherever on a big boat in her black tank top, khaki linen pants, and a flowing red shawl. She’s “risked everything for love,” and it’s time to see if anyone wants to marry her ass. For good measure, we’re again reminded that Bora Bora is pretty. I suppose ABC paid for the helicopter time. They might as well use it.

Ali tells us that her time has been “difficult and challenging” as well and we are again reminded that Justin is a first class A-hole and Frank dumped her in Tahiti. We see how difficult and challenging Ali’s time in Tahiti has been as she strolls longingly on the pristine beach in her hot pink push up bikini top with a purple Snuggie wrapped around her waist as we imagine how difficult and challenging it was for the camera and wardrobe crews to conceal her expanding can all season. At this point, I was Bora Bored.

After letting out a yawn and popping the top on a Lone Star, I tried to focus. We cut next to review the wonderfulness that is Roberto. He climbs, dances, frolics, and makes Ali “feel like a woman.” Is he too good to be true, Ali wonders? We learn that she didn’t wonder that much last week as we see a shirtless Ali lying next to Roberto in the Fantasy Suite. There’s no doubt he hit that out of the park. Ali’s chastity might as well have been a curve ball left high in the strike zone.

We cut next to the “slow, steady, uphill” Chris L. as Ali’s choice begins to take shape. He makes her laugh and he’s a good “friend.” For the experienced fan, we all know that this is the kiss of death. She’s shirtless with Roberto and she’s friends with Chris L. Adding insult to the impending injury, we revisit Ali meeting Chris’ family. We are reminded that his dad looks like Mickey Mantle and that his mother passed away. We see them celebrate that they’re both from Massachusetts and hear him drop an “I love you” on her after a few beers in the Fantasy Suite. I have to believe he closed the deal in the suite as well. After all, Landscapers do know how to handle a hoe.

A contemplative Ali feels the need contemplate some more as she reemerges from her hut in her brown bikini and linen pants with a flower carefully tucked behind her ear. We get a gratuitous shot of her belly button and sweaty hooters as the camera pans up to her adorable freckles. They appeared to be contemplating too. “Come on already!” I shouted at my television. “We get it. Bora Bora is part of Tahiti, it’s pretty, she’s pretty, her freckles are pretty, her stomach is pretty, the flowers and water are pretty, Roberto is pretty. . . Enough. Let’s meet the parents already!”

Guess what? ABC didn’t hear me.

We cut to a shot of this week’s resort sponsor, the Hilton Bora Bora Nui Spa, and we see Ali contemplating her previous contemplations and bikini changes as she strolls across the resort grounds in a black, white, and gray, high wasted dress looking like a salt shaker. . . contemplating. She finally mentions her family as we picture her father pacing in his hotel room knowing that during his sequestration his daughter has been defiled in not one but two suites on the really good side of the island. “Journey for love, my ass,” he grumbles over his continental breakfast as Ali’s mom tries not to think about it.

Roberto is nervous to meet mom and dad he tells us. He’s brushed the pearly whites and shined up the dimples, though, and he’s ready for action. He meets Ali in a teal and turquoise oxford shirt, khaki shorts, and boat shoes with the dimples on high. He was dressed like he broke into Frank’s suitcase and he made it look good. For good measure, Roberto carries a paper bag undoubtedly filled with pictures of himself in his baseball uniform for each member of Ali’s family. Roberto and Ali hug, handsome and beautiful each other, and set off to meet the people who will unwaveringly think that Ali and Roberto’s children are wonderful even though they will be certain that they’re not raising them right. Roberto pretends to be nervous.

Amidst uncomfortable giggling Roberto meets Dad, Mom, Raya, and Michael. They all appear happy to meet him and we realize that he’s the darkest thing they’ve seen in years. Ali’s father recalls the time before his divorce when the roof was damaged and he had to hire some Roberto’s to fix it. Yes, this is Ali’s support system. The people who will advise her on the most important decision of her life: whether or not to get married. Let’s take an inventory. Ali’s mother and father are apparently divorced. Neither of them appeared remarried. I’m not certain, but I think anyone would jump at the chance to get a free trip to Bora Bora. I assume step-parents would have been there if they were in the picture. Ali’s sister and brother both appeared younger than her 25 years and unmarried. Asking this group for marriage guidance is tantamount to asking Stevie Wonder for directions.

After engaging in some baseball banter—after all Roberto’s kind are good at el beisbol—Ali’s sister spits out her canned line and invites Roberto outside for a chat and as she gets up from the table we see what no access to hair extensions, another 10 weeks of room service, and an overall lack of physical activity would look like on Ali. To be fair, she did seem really nice.

Outside Roberto turns on the glaring dimples and proceeds to charm Ali’s siblings. Her brother looked more enamored with Roberto than Ali did all season. I was surprised he didn’t lean in for a salsa dance or at least wrap his legs around him while hugging him. In the meantime, Ali gives her parents the hard sell on Roberto inside the room. Dad sits there stoically, obviously upset at the unfortunate turn his hairline took years ago. Ali and mom retire to the sofa for some mom/daughter time and mom “tall, dark, and handsomes” Roberto as she poorly tries to hide her excitement at the prospect of having pictures of Roberto scattered around her Massachusetts apartment for the rest of her life. Spanish or not, he’s hot. Clearly, Ali inherited the I’m Hot for Spanish Guys gene from mom. By the way, was is just me or did Ali’s mom steal Frank’s glasses? He must have left them in the Break Up Bungalow before he hit the road.

Roberto gets some alone time with mom and we quickly realize that she’s putty in his hands. Roberto plays along. “What can I do to make her happy?” he asks. “You’re already doing it,” she responds as Roberto undoubtedly imagined the last 20 minutes in the Fantasy Suite. Oh, he’s doing it alright. Mom can’t contain her joy as tears come to her eyes and Roberto signs the closing documents on the deed to mom’s heart. He puts the jalapenos on the nachos by gently grabbing her hand and comforting her as she sniffles though some broken Spanish she learned by borrowing Ali’s complimentary Rosetta Stone discs. “Yo creo que tu corazon es puro.” “I believe your heart is pure,” is what that means. Nice job, Roberto. Granted, bagging mom was not exactly understanding the Theory of Relativity, but he got it done. Roberto does the brother a solid and slips him the Weatherman’s phone number before moving on to Dad. Ali’s brother looked hungry and wondered what was for dinner. He wanted them to serve the Weatherman’s favorite dish: smoked pole.

Dad escorts Roberto out to the pool and we see that he too has raided Frank’s wardrobe. His proudly sports his Earth-toned undershirt, khaki pants, and Frank in Chicago at his parents’ curtainless house bowling shirt. He retires to the wicker chairs with his masculine glass of orange juice with a straw to intimidate Roberto. Fat chance. Despite the fact that Ali’s dad is about as warm as The Great Santini, Roberto does his best to overcome his hyperhidrosis and open up. Seriously, the guy sweats. . . a lot. Dad folds faster than Ali after a couple of glasses of wine in a Fantasy Suite. Ali is a “strong woman” we’re told as we ponder that characterization amid all of the insecurity, self-doubt, and whining all season; not to mention the fact that she’s homeless, jobless, and 20 pounds heavier. Details. Strong woman, huh? Look, I have no problem with strong women. In fact, that’s an endearing quality. I have no problem with Feminists, either. I just don’t want my sister to marry one.

Roberto salsas with the family and seals the deal. Roberto and Ali huddle after the big meeting as she tells him how awesome he “like” is. We all begin to feel sorry for Chris L. as we realize that he’s again playing second wheel barrow. (That’s a little landscaping humor for you folks.) Harrison could have done the guy a favor and let him go first with the family. It’s bad enough he had to clean up Roberto’s sloppy seconds on the Fantasy Date, now he has to overcome his dimples, broken Spanish, and salsa lessons.

An optimistic Chris L. shows up in a neatly ironed white linen oxford that apparently lacked a button above the sternum. Proving he’s serious yet ready for fun he carefully rolled the sleeves up. Blue Bermuda shorts and flip flops complete the ensemble and we smile a smile of joy knowing that Chris L. has chosen the right moment to break out his big boy clothes for the meeting with the family. Ready to impress, Chris L. does his best Little Red Riding Hood impression by sporting a fruit basket and skipping gleefully to meet Ali. It’s too bad she’s already been eaten by the Big Bad Roberto. Ali gives him a giggly hug as they handsome and beautiful each other again while waddling toward the meet and greet.

Roberto had salsa lessons, dimples, romantic languages, and professional sports. I wondered what Chris L. would use to match all of that. “He’s funny,” I thought. Perhaps he could lead with a joke. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Ali’s Parents, I’m Chris L. Have you heard the one about the woman from Prague who brought her Siamese twins to a restaurant? When the waiter asked her if he she needed anything else she replied, ‘Yes, do you separate Czechs?’” On second thought, the Massachusetts connection and deceased mother story were probably his best ammunition.

Chris L. and Ali enter the Family Suite as the entire family proves they’ve never been South of Massachusetts by showing up in pants. Don’t these people own shorts, for God’s sake? It’s 1000 degrees in Tahiti . . . Celsius. Everyone giggles with joy when they find out that Chris is also from the Bay State. He’s got a house on the beach too. Everything is setting up nicely when mom decides to drop the “what’s your mom like” question and the fun comes to a grinding halt. Dude, couldn’t someone have given her a heads up? They discover that Ali’s sister and Chris’ late mother shared a profession and that Ali’s father, Chris’ father, and Chris were all teachers. Chris’ dad is Canadian and, guess what? So is Ali’s father. Take that, Roberto’s dimples. Salsa schmlasa, Chris L. is closing the gap. “Chris might just stand a chance,” I thought. Then I remembered Roberto’s dimples. I assume it went about the same way for the family.

Dad, obviously enthralled with Chris—after all, he’s white and he doesn’t speak Mexican—makes a toast to his new soon-to-be son-in-law (maybe possibly) and just when things are going swimmingly, mom asks about Chris’ deceased mother again. Really? The producers should have given her Tenley’s number so she could call her and ask her about her divorce. Mom continues to ask a ton of personal f*cking questions until the sister mercifully pulls him outside for the talk with her and Ali’s ambiguously gay brother.

Ali’s brother says his canned line as Chris’ shirt gets opened wider, evidencing the fact that he’s comfortable. Ali’s brother wishes he was wearing an undershirt like he and his father—that’s Massachusetts protocol after all—as he sits silently longing for the Spanish masculinity of Roberto. The family sits down with Chris and regales him with stories of how Ali cross-dressed her younger brother and we picture him stepping off a Tahiti Airlines plane at the Massachusetts airport where all of his friends await him at the baggage claim to begin making fun of him for the rest of his life. Poor kid.

Chris L. gets some alone time with Dad and has the presence of mind to go to the bathroom and tone down the sticky up hair but not enough sense to button his shirt. Regardless, dad listens, drops some canned lines and questions on him, watches Chris sweat like Roberto on a Fantasy Suite date. Dad sees Chris as family “orientated” and, despite his poor English, gives his blessing for the second time in less than 24 hours. Like father, like daughter, I suppose.

To celebrate, the entire family dons swimsuits—well, except mom who put on a leotard and stretch pants. That was weird. They jump off the deck into the crystal blue water and Chris L. makes the cardinal mistake of reality shows in his testimonial by espousing his confidence. Custer was pretty confident at Little Big Horn too. We all know how that worked out.

After Chris leaves, Ali sits down with the family for a chat. Ali’s younger sister explains everything she thinks she knows about marriage and relationships as Ali gazes through her pretending to listen. Relationships should be tit for tat, right? I suppose that’s correct. But problems arise when a man does a whole lot of tatting without seeing any tits. Ali considers titting for tatting.

Dad empathizes with Chris L’s father. After all, losing a wife can be hard. In Ali’s dad’s case, it was almost impossible. The general consensus seems to be in favor of Chris L., but it was difficult to get a real feel for what the family wanted. I did surmise that they loved orange juice; however, and noticed that dad eventually switched to white wine to deal with the reality of the reality show and the aggravation of planning a wedding for the daughter he never wanted and some Mexican dude he barely knows. Why bother with marriage when she can just find a man she hates and have him buy her a house?

Ali dismisses the family and heads to her bungalow to don her yellow off the shoulder tie dye shirt and wait for Roberto to round the corner like second base dressed like Chris L. at the family meeting so he can sweat on her. Seriously, I know Tahiti is hot, but the guy sweats like a whore in church. Hyperhidrosis is to Roberto what Mold Sickness is to Kirk. The good news is that it’s treatable. Perhaps he and Ali can use some of the promotional pull they gain from being a new couple to solve that problem. Or maybe not. His sweat probably smells has the subtle musk of men’s cologne.

Roberto properly executes the Lift and Kiss and he and Ali head out for some fun on a jet ski. “Roberto is fearless,” she tells us as he wards off dozens of docile stingrays by offering them hands full of their favorite food. Perhaps it was his musky pheromones that attracted them. I’ll bet those were all female stingrays. Ali again wonders if Roberto is too good for her and confirms that she has a fear of trusting him. Ernest Hemmingway once said, “the best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.” Ali should read Hemmingway.

Ali and Roberto arrive at some other private island not shaped like a pancreas and Ali “like, like” and “SO, SO’s” him for ten minutes before he finally kisses her in order to shut her up. They frolic in the water and we wonder if Roberto is wet or if he’s just sweating again. In perhaps the most magically romantic moment of the season (whatever that’s worth), God lets us know he’s rooting for Roberto by sending a perfectly timed rain storm under which Ali and Roberto make out. In a strange parallel, we picture Chris Harrison making it rain at a local Tahitian strip club.

Roberto eventually retires to his love nest in order to shower, rehydrate and replenish the sodium he’s been losing all day, and gussy up the suite in a final effort to seal the deal. Candles, champagne, light snacks, and flower petals are carefully placed by Roberto as the local florist locks the doors on his shop a half an hour early and walks over to meet Harrison at the strip club. In my world, they call that icing on the cake.

Incidentally, I once attempted to win the affections of a woman who was a florist. She declined. Apparently, she’d already made other arrangements. I used to date a woman who was a clown too. That ended when we were making love one night and she twisted my penis into a poodle.

I’ll be here all week, folks. Please tip your wait staff. Annnnnyyyyyyhoooo. . .

Ali emerges in a confusing black pant suit and some random accessories because it’s “imporent” that she lets Roberto know how she feels. Roberto lets her know that he doesn’t have a “type” of girl because guys who look like Roberto don’t need a type. Ali giggles and they retire to La Cama del Roberto where he presents her with a picture of them at Pancreas Lagoon with a handwritten Spanish love note. Ali’s pant suit falls off after successfully weathering a sweat storm. Poor Chris L. waits patiently in his bungalow as Roberto undoubtedly drops the hammer yet again.

As oblivious to the dropping of Roberto’s hammer as he is to the fact that navy blue does not match black, Chris L. confidently reflects on his “journey” (how sick of that word were you at this point in the show?), with Ali. He’ll “shower her with love” he tells us as we picture her showering with Roberto in his suite. Ali arrives acting manic in her black tank top, linen pants, and long chain. She’s all over the place but eventually does her own version of dropping the hammer and summarily “Franks” Chris L. without the benefit of a date. Props to ABC for keeping that secret.

Let’s take a moment to explore why Chris L. is a decent guy. By the way, this is the first season that I’ve actually liked all final 4 guys. Frank was alright—wishy washy and quirky, but a good guy, I think. Kirk—God bless his ability to conquer mold sickness—was a bit of a bore but pretty normal. Roberto is . . . well, he’s Roberto. Chris L., in the face of being dumped in paradise on camera by the first person he’s opened up to and loved since the death of his mother absorbs the moment, realizes what it is, fights off what was probably an overwhelming urge to say, “Get the F*ck Out of my Bungalow,” and actually thanks Ali for the time they had together. Hell, I wanted to hug the guy.

Ali does her signature pout and actually has the nerve to drop a “Hang in There” on him on her way out the door. Are you kidding me? Hang in there? She might as well given him a poster of a kitten hanging from a branch or just left a note on his coffee table telling him to “Keep on Truckin’.” There’s no need to step on his head while he’s drowning.

Ali high tails it out of the suite and fights the urge to run back over to Casa Roberto. She tells us that she “like doesn’t want to be like the cause of like hurt.” Too late, you tramp. You just Franked a guy and he was a big enough man to wish you well. We all recall when that happened to Ali she had a meltdown on the beach and told a disinterested Harrison that she “hated” Frank for doing it. At that moment, thousands of women logged on to Ali’s Facebook account to drop a hate mail before going to Priceline and booking a ticket to Cape Cod.

Chris seemed like a genuinely decent guy. He’ll be fine. He handled the dumping with class, humility, and a positive attitude. I suppose that’s not surprising considering the heartache he went through with his mother. I will admit that him seeing his mother’s best wishes in that rainbow brought a smile to my face and a tear to my eye. There. I said it. Divine intervention complete, Chris L. packs his Garanimals into his suitcase, puts his lunchbox into his backpack, and boards the S.S. Rejection before returning to Massachusetts in search of a woman with a smaller waist to hip ratio than Ali. Something tells me he’ll find her soon. You’re right, Chris. Your mother would have been proud of you.

Decisions decided and dumpings done, Ali dons a red shirt and some billowy white pants and eats a light breakfast of food in anticipation of Roberto’s proposal. We cut to Casa Roberto and see him “waking up,” as we ignore the fact that he was wearing board shorts. We get a short montage of Roberto and his Roberto-ness, including a slow motion shot of him in his baseball uniform and I knew that in a living room in Houston, Texas sat a grinning Lincee Ray with her finger firmly on the “Pause” button.

But wait. Will Roberto propose? He equivocates as he sweats through his ever-handy gray t-shirt and board shorts. Neil Lane—happy to have earned another ring sponsorship and a free trip to Tahiti—arrives with his magic briefcase to show off his logo and give Roberto a shot at picking the engagement hardware before returning to Harrison’s suite to hide the prescription meds and wake up the strippers. He’s the Dr. Gonzo to Harrison’s Raoul Duke and he knows it. Nice plug, Neil. Nice rings too.

Roberto showers, shaves, musks up, and FINALLY tightens his tie. The suit was a bit too tailored for my taste and the collar was too wide. Roberto boards the boat and leaves to meet his destiny. Ali, showers, shaves, musks up, and FINALLY gets her extensions in order before putting on a gold disaster of a gown and wrapping herself in the mosquito nets from the bed in the hotel. She’s looked terrible in just about every rose ceremony all season. After getting over the dress choice, we wonder where in the world Chris Harrison has been hiding all episode.

Our hearts are put at ease as we see him doing his best Ricardo Montalban impression by greeting the arriving Roberto. Ali has “risked everything for love” and we’re about to see if it paid off. Of course it does. Roberto finishes a two hour walk and arrives sweating like a fat lady in a sauna.

Succumbing to a sodium imbalance, Robert drops to one knee and breaks out the free ring that ABC gave him subject to the condition that the engagement fully manifests itself into a legal and binding marriage culminating in a wedding ceremony to which ABC would have the exclusive right to and authority to distribute, license, and otherwise exploit the aforementioned wedding ceremony and, without limiting the generality of the foregoing, or any other rights granted to ABC, its agents, employees, successors, assigns, insurers, or third parties selected by ABC to act on its behalf, ABC would have theatrical rights, home video rights, free television rights, pay television rights, internet rights, and advertising, rights. In short, they own the ring and if they don’t tie the knot, they own Roberto.

Aware of their legal burden, Ali accepts Roberto’s proposal as he uses the mosquito net on her dress to wipe of the excess perspiration before kissing her as Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” theme from The Lion King begins to play. We all longed for Jeffrey Osborne as we pictured Ali’s ambiguously gay brother prancing around his bungalow bedroom listening to Elton John while wrapped in a mosquito net in an effort to replicate Ali’s joy.

Despite my sometimes cynical take on the show, I will say that I’m genuinely happy for both of them. Regardless of how contrived, over-produced, and pre-determined the show is, I really do believe Ali and Roberto were in love—or something like it—at that moment. Most of us are old enough to realize that times like that—times when we are truly happy and we feel a real stillness and a peace about us, certain that everything in our world makes perfect sense—are difficult to come by. Whether it works out or not, it was fun to watch their “amazing journey” and from the bottom of my heart, I wish them luck.

Well, there it is. Another fine season of the Bachelorette. With the final Amazing count at an unprecedented 185, we begin speculating who will be our next Bachelor. As promised, I’ll watch ATFR tonight and post again on Thursday afternoon. I plan to suffer my way through the Bachelor Pad and continue posting every Tuesday in addition to other posts based on your suggestions or my whimsy. Thank you all for reading, commenting, and indulging me this season. It has been fun. Until next Tuesday, please take care of yourselves. If you need me, I’ll be frantically sending friend requests to Chris L.’s Facebook page. DP