Bachelorette Recap Episode 6: Sheer Insecurity

Hello, Readers. Welcome back to this week’s version of “I’m a Poor Decision Maker.” I had two pleasant, mind-clearing mountain bike rides around and near two of the lakes here in Austin. Refreshed and ready to go, I turned on my television to watch this week’s show. I was quickly unrefreshed and unrelaxed.

For crying out loud, I’m sick of Ashley and her incessant hemming and hawing over Bentley. I don’t know what’s worse: her rampant insecurity (see alcoholic, absentee father) or her incredibly poor judgment when it comes to men (see also alcoholic, absentee father). Regardless, this week’s episode was fertile ground for me to cultivate and I hope you at least enjoy my offering. Thanks sincerely to all of my long time readers, but welcome to the new comers too.


If you’re not aware, next week’s Fourth of July episode is a repeat of this week’s episode, so Some Guy gets a week to recharge his batteries. Ah yes, the Fourth of July. That’s the date we celebrate the God given freedom we’ve memorialized in our laws and Constitution by surreptitiously rolling across the nearest county line and smuggling hundreds of dollars worth of illegal fireworks into the city limits in order to celebrate our laws and Constitution by violating them. God Bless America.

I haven’t decided if I’m going to post on Tuesday the fifth yet, but the most likely scenario is that I won’t. If I do, it will probably be Off Season-esque. First, because I won’t have a show to write about that week; but more importantly, because I need a freaking break from this grenade of a bachelorette as much or more than you do. With that out of the way, let’s get to it.

We begin this episode YET AGAIN with another redundant recap of the “dot, dot, dot” conversation, her preoccupation with Bentley as she poontangs around with the other guys, and some classic shots of Harrison’s thinly veiled frustration with her as she whines and whines and whines and whines. To hell with flying Bentley half way across the world for closure. ABC’s dime would have been better spent getting Dr. Jamie over there . . . stat.

Ashley uses the word “closure” at least 1000 times and I began to realize that I too needed the very closure she was seeking. Hell, if I had to hear about stupid Bentley or listen to her droning on about the dot, dot, dot any longer I was going to have trouble forgetting about him.

To top it off, this episode was on during the same time as Blue Crush. I was foregoing a chance to watch a pre-anorexic, well-nourished Kate Bosworth run around in a bikini with a pre-incarcerated, well-nourished Michelle Rodriguez in a bikini for an hour and a half. Ashely’s right: sometimes life is just not fair. Back to the impending fiasco.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the giant city, Ashley strolls introspectively through the streets of Hong Kong in her billowy translucent blouse and black Rod Stewart pants trying not to break an ankle in her four inch F-me pumps as camera tricks fail to hide her fake eyelashes.

Harrison awaits the guys on the roof of this week’s sponsor hotel, The Conrad, in a blue linen shirt and dark jeans with white sneakers. He was dressed like a cooler version of Jerry Seinfeld. Harrison sends the guys down the elevator they just rode up to the roof back to the check-in desk and heads down to find Ashley for a much needed couch chat in her hotel room.

In the meantime, Ashley continues to long for the B word and uses the word “closure” another 1500 times during the segment. I was so ready for her to “closure” her freaking mouth I actually shouted “Closure you’re freaking mouth” at my television in hopes that her digitally reproduced image would hear me. Alas, it didn’t and I was forced to drown my profanity with a sip of Lone Star.

Harrison gently knocks on Ashley’s door; however, we know he means business. He’s there to solve a problem—and quickly, damnit. After all, that 21 year old single malt back in his Rain Man suite is not going to drink itself, is it? After gaining entry, Harrison resets for our benefit and Ashley’s what an idiot she’s been for pining over Bentley after being warned about him prior to shooting. He refers to Bentley as “a bit of a road block.” Right, and Ryan is “a bit of a douchebag.”

After reminding Ashley that she’s F-ing up the show without specifically saying she’s F-ing up the show, Harrison displays the power that is Harrison by telling Ashley and then re-telling Ashley after being commanded to “SHUT. UP.” that he has summoned Bentley from the great city of Salt Lake and demanded his presence in Hong Kong. Yes, the Dali Lama might be in Tibet, the Pope might be in Rome, but Chris Freaking Harrison is at The Conrad Hotel and he doesn’t have to wear a saffron robe or a funny hat to make sh*t happen.

Ashley fails to hide her excitement---it was clear at that point that she thought Bentley was there to profess his true love rather than just to cash in on the free trip, free drinks on the plane, and the air miles—and Harrison drops the room number in her lap before heading out to put a Hong Kong sized dent in the single malt. I’m fairly certain that Bentley was in room 4315 or perhaps that’s the number of times during this segment that Ashley said “closure.” My notes are a tad fuzzy.

Ashley says that she “doesn’t want to convince someone to love” her. Exactly. It didn’t work with Brad Womack, her dad, or any of her previous boyfriends, so why continue to try? Props to her for almost sort of seeing the pattern. Sadly, until she gets some serious help, it’s probably a pattern that—like her poor diction and questionable wardrobe choices—will continue to repeat itself into perpetuity.

Ashley ruminates over the room number as she eyes a phallically arranged banana, apple, and orange before getting some assistance standing in her Rod Stewart pants and F-me pumps and slowly making her way down the hall to Bentley’s room. Incidentally, I have no idea what it says about me that I noticed the phallic fruit arrangement. That’s for Dr. Freud and Dr. Jamie to figure out, I suppose. I’d bet Ames would know too. You know, because he’s all educated and stuff. Annyyhooo. . . .

Now because I’m Some Guy and my mind works in mysterious ways, I had several scenarios in mind as Ashley waited nervously gathering herself outside of Bentley’s door before tepidly knocking on the door of room 4315 where Bentley had undoubtedly been sequestered like Quasimodo in the bell tower at Notre Dame.

My first thought was that the plot of this season is a bit like Hugo’s novel, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I won’t bore you but Quasimodo was in love with Esmeralda who—although she thought him kind—never loved him because of his ugliness and deformity. She was in love with the dashing—and superficial—Captain Phoebus, however. In the end, Quasimodo clings unflinchingly to his unrequited love of Esmeralda, which eventually leads to his death and her hanging. He dies clutching her dead body.

The main theme of that book is the cruelty of society and a lack of justice. Switch Quasimodo in for Ashley, Bentley in for Esmeralda, and Emily in for Captain Phoebus and all of a sudden Chris Harrison becomes Victor Hugo. Yes, THAT’S what goes through my mind when this garbage is playing out in front of me.

However, I also thought it would have been absolutely hysterical if after her near nervous breakdown and her long hallway delay getting up the courage to knock on the door if Harrison would have popped open the door dressed as Bentley with a room full of people behind him and screamed, “Gotcha! You actually thought he was here? What an idiot!”

OR

If after she knocked, instead of saying, “who is it?” before opening the door, Bentley would have dropped an “Emily, is that you?”

OR

If Bentley would have said “who is it?” after the knock and the camera would have panned back to Harrison holding two highballs and a bottle of single malt saying something in a contrived female voice like “It’s just me, little ole Ashley” before Bentley opened the door and Harrison barged into the room saying, “Dude, do you think I flew you out here to talk to HER? Bottoms up, Buttercup. And get that chick out of the closet. We have some drinking to do.”

Any of those would have been better than the next ten minutes of the show. Unfortunately, Ashley knocks and after buying some time to turn off his free Flipcam and hide the Asian prostitute in the closet by dropping “who is it?” Bentley opens the door and a desperate Ashley leans in for a barely returned kiss. She’s such an idiot. The next five minutes consisted of extremely uncomfortable conversation regarding the “dot, dot, dot” with Bentley evidently proving that he didn’t have the extra 25 bucks on him at the airport so he could check the bag containing his balls for the big trip to Hong Kong.

Ashley tells him how “haaaarrrrd” it was for her when he “laaaaffft” and he actually has the audacity to say, “I think you know where I’m at.” Uh, not she doesn’t, dipsh*t. Remember that flight around the world for the purpose of explaining? Fate is invoked, Bentley tells her it’s over (sort of), I got my exclamation point, and Ashley finally got her period . . . or so we thought.

I’ll give her a small amount of credit for almost growing a spine; however, I’m certain that some of the “F You, Bentley, I’m done with you” one-on-one camera testimonials were shot after the season as filler to make her seem “over” him. “F You, Bentley, I’m done with you?” Ahh, you have to love a real Lady, don’t you?

Eliza Doolittle-isms aside, based on her demeanor the rest of the episode, she’s still keeping at least one dot on the board. I won’t belabor this any longer except to say that I would have loved it if after she asked Bentley, “so why did you come then,” he would have looked her squarely in the face and said, “for the free trip, you dunce.” Oh, and shame on ABC for not showing her the tape. I’ll give them credit for having the wherewithal to watch the train teeter on the tracks without jumping in, but the whole thing was overplayed. Naively, I thought that meeting would be the end of it. Naïve indeed.

Ashley finds a giant window to reflect behind and the camera crew finds a giant bird to represent her newly discovered “freedom.” As with Ryan’s “Cuba” shirt, I found it ironic that Ashley “found freedom” in China. They should have had her meet him in Tiananmen Square.

On a side note, I remember a time in 1989 when the Tiananmen Square tank protest was the top story on every news channel and newspaper across the world. I remember sitting on my parents’ couch and picking up a ringing phone around the holidays and having a telemarketer try to sell me holiday desserts via mail. She explained that they had fruit cakes, chocolate cakes, assorted pies, and any other number of items that could be delivered to my door before Thanksgiving. I remember stopping her mid-sentence and saying something like, “that sounds great but to you offer Tiananmen Squares?” I believe her response was (incredibly) something like, “Hold on and I’ll check.” Take those people off script and you never know what you’ll get. Back to the show.

Back at the Conrad (as in Hilton, I presume), the date card is dropped and a post head injury Ames reads it as Annoying Ryan espouses his optimism because that’s what Tony Robbins would do. Lucas gets the big date. “Let’s Find Our Good Fortune on the Streets of Hong Kong,” it reads and the country boy from Odessa, Texas pretends to be thrilled at the prospect of mingling through filthy street markets filled with foreigners without a pasture in sight while listening to Ashley whine about Bentley. What a beating that must have been. Props to Lucas for sporting a good attitude.

Sporting another billowy, sheer top that only someone as flat chested as she could pull off along with a pair of white Rod Stewart pants and some F-me pumps Ashley awaits Lucas and we see how freaking bow legged she is for the first time. I assumed the accentuation was created by a combination of her circulation restricting jeans and her 4 inch F-me pumps—either that or she spent a little more time than we thought in Room 4315.

I’ll cut to the chase on this date. If any of you are from a small town or know someone who is you’ll know that people who choose to live in small towns do not get along well in the city. The reverse is also true. I believe that’s not an environmentally determined thing, but literally something that is hard wired in a person. Lucas was clearly uncomfortable in Hong Kong, but he did his best to eat the disgusting food from the market and managed to get a dance, a kiss, and a rose in spite of having to fight through enough bronzer to recondition the Liberty Bell and Ashley’s bangs going rogue. On second thought, maybe it was the Fivehead going rogue in an attempt to be noticed. After all, it IS Ashley’s fivehead. Shouldn’t it follow that it’s just as insecure as she is?

Like the West Texas native that he is, Lucas keeps it simple and earned a rose. Ashley compliments him on his “manlihood” and I couldn’t help but harken back to that phallic fruit arrangement in her suite. It’s “manliness,” Ashley. There’s really no need to throw gasoline on the fire, is there? Geez. And another thing, Ashley: when a guy is on a date with you answering the “what’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you” question that you judgingly throw out every time, put your freaking fork down, make eye contact, and at least feign interest. It might not work that way in Madawaska, but grow some common courtesy, please.

Back at the Conrad, Ames takes some time to stop looking for a tall, dark stranger named Conrad to rejoin the guys as the group date card is dropped. Blake says he hates Ryan without saying he hates Ryan. “Let’s Get Our Hearts Racing,” it reads and we learn that Ben F., Ryan, Mickey, Constantine, Ames, and Blake get the big date as Blake and Ryan lament their lack of one-on-one and J.P. modestly, but confidently grins at the prospect of spending more time being ignored and condescended to without being told that his date is in love with someone else. By the way, J.P. is going to win. He’s clearly interested in her and he’s the only one dumb enough to propose to her. More about that later.

Again, I’m going to gloss over this stupid “date.” Ashley shows her midriff before announcing that the boys will be Dragon Boat racing in the harbor after the show turns into The Amazing Race. Ames, just thankful that he won’t be getting clocked in the jaw this week, was visibly excited. He realized that while most of the guys preferred a man with his dragon on a boat, he prefers a man with his “draggin’” on the ground.

You’re welcome. I’ll be here all week.

Ben and Constantine, Blake and Ryan, and Ames and Mickey get subdivided into teams and the most memorable part was that Ashley actually served as the coxswain (or is it cock-swain?) on one of the Dragon Boats. Of course, she had to fight with Ames for that position, but his reluctant relinquishment of that coveted position resulted in a win for Ames and Mickey. Granted, it was a meaningless win, but a win nonetheless.

After a meeting at the hotel bar (which was written in English, by the way), a sincere yet homosexual attempt at romance by Ames in the elevator, and me wondering why in the hell Ben F. chose to wear a yellow sweater and gray Levis, Ashley gives the rose to the over-cheesed, obnoxiously entrepreneurial Ryan who—again—“closed” Ashley at the most opportune moment. I’ll give the guy credit for obeying the Seven Habits of Highly Effective Douchebags, but man, is he a chach.

By the way, a yellow sweater? Is he a crossing guard or a wine maker? And GRAY Levis? Assuming I would wear those, I would have no idea where to get them. I might as well be shopping for an 8-track or a Betamax VCR. Gray jeans? Perhaps Jon Bon Jovi circa 1985 would respect that choice, but come on, Ben. You’re on TV for God’s sake. Gray jeans?

As Lucas and his salmon shirt make a repeat appearance, he and J.P. anxiously await the Date Card. “Let’s Take a Peek Into Our Future,” it reads as J.P. gears up for a big evening. Even he had no idea how big it would become.

Ashley arrives in her third flowy sheer blouse in as many segments, as does J.P. Don’t get me wrong, I like J.P. He seems like a nice enough guy but there’s such a thing as too nice. Don’t know what I’m talking about? Let’s study the rest of the date. As always, I have some thoughts. Before we do, however, I just want to know how many times this broad is going to make J.P. sit on the freaking floor. He’s had three dates and zero chairs. It’s bad enough he had to put on undersized p.j.’s and get “cozy” and “comfy” in “her” mansion while dealing with the undisclosed Bentley fallout, but now he’s been relegated to meals on the floor? At least get the guy a throw pillow.

Ignoring knee and lower back pain, J.P. continues to suck up to Ashley as she stuffs her face with ruffage and bats her fake eyelashes like some slutty female rabbit. After brilliantly answering the “when was the last time you cried” question with “when my ex and I broke up,” J.P. is forced to listen to questions more transparent than this week’s blouse selection as she asks “how can I get over Bentley-esque” questions. She brings up the dot, dot, dot and the word “closure” again an for some reason feels the need to disclose her unilateral love for Bentley; a guy, by the way, who J.P. hasn’t given a second thought to in over three weeks. She’s such a dunce.

Pretending that she and Bentley “broke up,” Ashley tells J.P. the “all of you guys are mush as far as I’m concerned but now I want to be honest” story she rehearsed in pre-production. Honest, my ass. Had Bentley said he wanted her that would have been the end of the season. For J.P. to brush that under the rug and call it “her decision” and “a mistake she made” is not only naïve, it’s preposterous.

If I left my life for 30 days and lived in a fish bowl fighting (literally and figuratively) for the unknowingly unattainable affection of a marginally attractive, exponentially insecure, fake dentist with a penchant for material omissions, I’d be pissed off. I’d also be in the Conrad Lounge drunker than Tim (remember that guy?) at the opening cocktail party. Instead, J.P. counts his blessings. Again, he’s the only one stupid enough to ask her to marry him. My money—and my prayers—are with him.

J.P. earns his rose and they end the date by taking a train ride through Hong Kong. Unfortunately, there was no Risky Business conduct on the train. By the way, is there anything less romantic than taking mass transit through a giant, smog-filled, urine soaked, over-industrialized city? The last thing I’d feel like doing on a subway is closing the deal. Decorating a city that size with that many people in it with some neon lights is like putting a silk hat on a pig or fake eyelashes on a crazy girl. Eventually, you see it for what it is. Man, this show sucks this season.

Invigorated by J.P.’s egregious denial, Ashley assumes that the rest of the guys will be as understanding as he was when she drops the “I was in love but suddenly I’m not because the ABC Legal Department pointed out some incredibly relevant portions of the three inch thick contract that I signed before agreeing to do this after Emily and Chantal refused” story. Could she be a worse judge of character or have a worse sense of social timing? It’s mind boggling.

Enter Ashley’s Mind: Gee, I’ve been concealing my preoccupation with Bentley, who no one really liked except me, for about a month now yet I’ve been unabashedly getting my ass kissed by a bunch of guys who left their lives behind for the chance to travel the world and fall in love with me because they have no idea that I made up my mind at the first cocktail party. I’ve dragged them to orphanages to perform manual labor in the heat, forced them into concussion inducing fights, insisted on three hour un-air conditioned training sessions, deprived them of alcohol for hours at a time so I could cry about Bentley, and begged Chris Harrison to arrange a secret meeting with Bentley so we could be together forever. Now that Bentley made it sort of clear that I should have my period, I’ll see what’s leftover in hopes of finding a husband (maybe) before I finish dental school (maybe). That shouldn’t go over so badly. Where’s my sparkly cocktail dress and fake eyelashes? Purrr-fact.

It’s not exactly a case study in deductive reasoning, is it? The long and short of it is that she drops the Bentley story and it goes over about as well as William’s routine at the Ashley Roast. Constantine and Lucas immediately pile on while J.P. tries valiantly yet unsuccessfully to try and defend her. Ryan, of course, sees an opportunity to “close” as he opens a couple buttons on his stupid suit and lays it on thicker than massage oil at the local Hong Kong Rub and Tug in hopes of securing a happy ending. Blake and Ben confirm what we all know: Ryan is indeed a first class cheese.

My absolute favorite part was when Lucas dropped the “she’s wasting my f*cking time” before pounding the remainder of his free drink. Exactly. My next thought as I watched Ashley sob alone in the shadows was that at least this little revelation would ferret out the Type A’s with anger issues. There’s always a silver lining, isn’t there?

Unlike morning sickness, in-laws, and restraining orders, Ashley quickly learns that this sort of thing is something a person can’t simply ignore. Blake pulls her aside and does an excellent job of rationally and respectfully explaining why he and the others are upset with her. Unfortunately, that was way too normal for Ashley and it ended up costing him a rose. She’s such a dunce.

In the meantime, Ashley uses words like “closure,” “realization,” and “revelation” to describe her metamorphosis from a pouting child into a pensively secure woman with the relationship maturity of an adolescent. What’s with all the psychobabble catch words, by the way? Say it with me. I thought this b*tch was a dentist?

Mickey gets up to bat and, unlike his legendary slugging namesake, fails to hit a home run with his own explanation before asking, in fact begging, to be sent home. Having none of it Ashley calls his bluff telling him to remove himself and Mickey proves to be the only chest beater to…say it with me…show some sack as he gives Ashley the heave ho and boards a junket in search of a big jug of sake and a reach around at the local gentlemen’s club where he probably rendezvoused with a half in the can Bentley. I’m certain he arrived and dropped Harrison’s name before getting molared and heading to the airport at sunrise. Solid work, Mickey.

Let me say this about Lucas and Constantine, however. Look, if I was in their shoes, I would have probably stuck around too. What could it hurt? A free, once in a lifetime trip around the world giving you nationwide exposure and—whether we like it or not—instant recognition is not a bad thing. I think they both realized they had nothing to lose. Why not coast on ABC’s dime for a few more weeks? With that said, however, Mickey is going to get all kinds of street cred back in his hometown and elsewhere. He’ll have women swooning at the doors of whatever Olive Garden or Macaroni Grill he “chefs” at back home.

Feeling the pressure, Ashley breaks down and offers a tearful (and seemingly sincere) apology. Frankly, that should have been the end of it. I agreed with Blake that there was no more need to make her pay for that mistake. If it bothered the guys that much, they should have taken the route Mickey took. Otherwise, accept it and move on. I mean that with a period and not a dot, dot, dot, by the way.

Ames and his white pants get an opportunity to explain in sensitive, respectful BFF language why everyone is mad. The guy is a sissy, but he’s an articulate one. He also correctly used “Ashley and MY” relationship in a sentence proving that the 500K his benefactor shelled out for his over-education was, in fact, at least partially well spent. I like Ames, but he should be back in New York celebrating the gay marriage law instead of traipsing all over the orient with Ashley’s insecure ass.

Harrison meets with Ashley and says “I told you so” without saying “I told you so.” In a classic Harrison style he leads with a brutal, “tough out there tonight,” before sticking up for the remaining guys. Part of that was deserved; however, ABC had the ability to show her the tape very early on and did take advantage of the situation. Then again, she signed on the dotted line.

Finally, we get to the rose ceremony after another beating of a cocktail party. It went down as follows:

Roses

1. Lucas

2. J.P.

3. Ryan (she’s such an idiot)

4. Ben F.

5. Constantine

6. Ames

Gone

1. Mickey

2. Blake (this surprised me, actually)

Well, there it is. With the Amazing count at 59 and the Journey count at 14, both of which eclipsed by the Bentley count of FORTY this week, we head into Episode 7 and what looks to be a drag of a season. Remember that the Fourth of July episode is a re-run of this week’s episode and, if I do find the time to post, it will be an Off Season type post. Have a safe and happy Fourth of July. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be trying not to get mascara on my sheer blouses. DP