Bachelorette Kaitlyn Episode 8: I-Rish I Didn't Sleep with Nick

Hello, Readers. Some Guy has no time for nonsense today—well, other than my own nonsense—so let’s just jump right in, shall we?

Oh boy.  This season is going downhill faster than an artificially loaded soapbox derby car, isn’t it?  Has anyone other than the sound guy responsible for Kaitlyn’s lapel mic had any fun this season? Apparently, our “low maintenance” bachelorette requires more maintenance than Caitlyn Jenner’s bikini line. 

The “not again” looks pasted all over the guys’ faces when Katilyn walked into the cocktail party to announce (yet another) “rough week” were priceless.  I couldn’t tell if the guys were upset because “the most fun Bachelorette ever” is a complete buzz kill or because all of their suits appeared to have been washed in very hot water.  When did suits that don’t fit become a thing?  Fake Gosling’s getup was more snug than the chocolate river pipe around Augustus Gloop in Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. 

Fake Gosling takes the cupcake (see what I did there?) for the most neurotic contestant in recent history.  We have to assume we’re not getting the full story about Kaitlyn’s mysterious “off camera” visit during Peter Brady’s marathon shower wherein Kaitlyn, like some kind of slutty, less wise version of Morpheus, apparently told Fake Gosling that he was The One. 

. . . well not really. . .

Kaitlyn:  What if I told you that you are The One?

Fake Gosling:  What about the poontanging you did with Nick?

Kaitlyn:  There is no poon.

Fake Gosling:  Are you in love with me?

Kaitlyn:  Sigh . . . . I’m falling in love with you.

SGIA:  So that’s a no. 

Kaitlyn:  What happened that made you feel so insecure? 

SGIA:  Oh, I don’t know, you slept with a guy that you invited to the show after 4 weeks of knowing Fake Gosling the day after you told him that he was The One and then lied to everyone about it.  He can sense it. 

Fake Gosling:  I don’t know if I can do this. 

Kaitlyn:  You mean pull off that small suit?  You’re sweating like a fat kid in the park. 

Fake Gosling:  Is it because I look more like Alf than I do Real Gosling? 

Kaitlyn:  I’m horny.

By the way, I wish I could take credit for the Alf joke.  I can’t.  A friend flippantly mentioned that in a group email and I ran with it.  Back to our story.    

Katilyn selfishly attempts to shovel the pile of guilt sitting on her shoulders over on to Fake Gosling’s plate, it is abundantly clear that Kaitlyn is not concerned about his feelings.  Rather, she’s worried about getting caught.

“So full of artless jealousy is guilt,

It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.”

― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Bill Shakespeare knew what he was talking about, didn’t he? 

Kaitlyn drops the first of many priceless euphemisms for the one night stand with Nick by telling us that she’s concerned that Shawn knows she’s been “intimate” with Nick.  

Incidentally, my favorite euphemism for the Nick banging is “off camera time” followed closely by “leveling the playing field.”  We have none other than Our Host Chris Harrison to thank for both of those.  He’s right, by the way.  No one wants intimate, off-camera time on an uneven playing field. 

Level Your Playing Field

“I feel awful,” she whines in her whining spot on her balcony.  She’s been there so often this season she’s probably worn out the masking tape “X” marking its location.    

“She felt just fine to Nick a few hours ago,” I said laughing into my Lone Star.  Even Mrs. SGIA—whose Some Guy humor armor is incredibly thick—found that joke amusing.    

Nick talks to Tanner in his skinny jeans and his hipster boots while simultaneously checking Kayak.com for a cheap flight home after getting what he came for.  Fake Gosling begins a 12-hour brood session on various benches around the property.

He should have dusted her for Nick’s prints before getting all broody and introspective.  Either that or just hit her with a spray or two of Luminol.  Problem solved.    

Kaitlyn's Chest

In case we all forgot (and we all did forget) about last week’s cliffhanger, we’re reminded about the impending 2 on 1 date featuring J.J. and Joe Dirt.  J.J. goes with plaid and Joe Dirt layers it up with a vest and a few shirts before they hit a shipyard and narrowly avoid lockjaw when they jump on a rusty tugboat for a trip around the ocean.  That was a long way from a catamaran in the Caribbean, wasn’t it?   

A la The Highlander, the threesome enjoys a picnic on a barrel on top of an ice cold hill.  J.J. looked clueless and Joe Dirt looked bored and tired.  Has there ever been a more genuine guy on this show than Joe Dirt?  No pretense, no drama, just pure Kentucky Joe.  I was rooting for him to be eliminated.  His Joe-ness is inversely related to J.J.'s rampant uber-douchebaggery. 

Clearly guided by the producers and with nothing better to do on top of a grassy hill overlooking the ocean in Ireland, Joe pretends like he’s falling in love with Kaitlyn.  My guess is that he knows he’s going home eventually and he’s going along for the ride until it ends.

J.J., on the other hand, takes his purple pants and matching loafers on a picnic with Kaitlyn and drops—out of nowhere, mind you—I cheated on my wife three years ago.  Apparently, he’s put that  minor discretion behind him now and he’s ready to make Kaitlyn a stepmom. 

Wow.  Open mouth, insert purple suede loafer.  Subtlety is an art, J.J.  Stupidity is not.  

Kaitlyn feigned shock.  We all know she was more terrified about the prospect of being a step-mom to some dirty-fingered little brat than she was bout marrying J.J. and risking infidelity.  Frankly, I was shocked she didn’t respond, “oh yea?  I’ll see your one affair three years ago and raise you eight at one time one day ago.”  Details.   

Alright, I’ll give him some credit for the honesty.  However, whacking someone in the face with that sort of news is not the way to go, J.J.  Everyone has something he’s not proud of, but dude, ix-nay on the eating-chay right out of the box.  Even a proctologist has the courtesy to engage in a little small talk before the blue glove and KY Jelly come out of the drawer.  He got sent acking-pay.  Joe Dirt had to wait for his Date Rose, however.     

Oh, and by the way.  Where in the hell is the fat guy in the leather hat who helped Roz pack her s*it after she cheated on Jake at his own cocktail party?  Remember when he used to show up, enter the room silently, and remove the bag of the loser?  That was awesome.  Note to Fleiss:  Bring that back.  

Fake Gosling can’t stand it.  He continues to brood in front of the Abbey or whatever that place was.  He’s melting down like a block of Velveeta cheese on Superbowl Sunday.  Dude, if you want a naked female to jump up and down and shake her rear end every time she sees you, get a Labrador.  Otherwise, lighten the hell up. 

Kaitlyn broods on her pre-regret sex/make out/confessional/late night snack eating/interview couch.  The producer tells her that Fake Gosling is on his way up and she waits in dread for his arrival.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —

Only this, and nothing more."   

--Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven.

She paces amongst her filthy room as the guilt builds.  Shawn spills his emotions but fails to mention her greatest fear: the Nick Situation.  You could literally see the relief on her face when she began to realize that he didn’t know about Nick.  Was I the only one frustrated with the 100^th reference to the the “talk off camera” stuff we never heard about?  

Incredibly, once she realizes she has the upper hand she goes with “I’ve been reassuring you and you still are insecure.”  Translation:  Your fault, not mine.  Uncool.  I think we’d all agree.  I believe psychologists refer to that as “Deflection,” which is apparently Kaitlyn’s defense mechanism of choice.   I love the self-defeating behavior cycle.  We’ll see how that turns out for her next week.    

Cocktail Party.

She’s had a tough week.  Boooooo.    

Shawn wears shark skin suit and roller derby socks and continues to brood . . . and sweat . . . and brood . . . and sweat.  I couldn't determine if he was brooding because he was sweating or sweating because he was brooding.    

Kaitlyn gets some one-on-one time with Peter Brady who tells an odd “off camera” story about Fake Gosling, a trip downstairs, and a prolonged shower.  Frankly, I was confused.  He calls her out alleging that he knows that “something’s happened” and she stresses. 

“No doubt I [Kaitlyn] now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet [Peter Brady] heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased.”

–-Edgar Allan Poe, The Tell Tale Heart.

Hearing her own heart beat through her eardrums, Kaitlyn goes directly to the alleged source of her angst:  Nick.  (See “Deflection” above).  She freaks out a bit on Nick.  He’s flabbergasted she can’t keep her mouth shut.  He cries after telling her she’s “worth it” and she buys it.  Nice move.  The entire conversation (predictably) devolves into another pre-bang make out session.  So surface level.  Did anyone miss Ian at this point?  

Harrison shows up in a terrible tie.  Rose Ceremony.

Joe Dirt

Ben H.

Nick

Jared

Chris

Fake Gosling (post heart attack)

Gone.

Ben Z. 

Tanner

J.J.

Ben Z. is upset.  He was blindsided.  He’ll do fine back in San Jose.  Please don’t be the next Bachelor.  Just troll around San Jose with a somber look all over your face.  You’ll be married in no time.    

What. A. Beating. 

Group Date.   

They pack up and head out on a giant bus with leprechauns on the side of it.  That was odd.  They are heading to Kilarney.  But wait.  Kaitlyn pulls up and Jared gets to ride to the Blarney Stone with Kaitlyn.  Boring. 

Kaitlyn drops, “Nothing can go wrong.”  Boom.  That phrase is like the Bat Signal for Harrison.  He bounces up the stairs with a smile on his face and a twist up his sleeve. 

Kaitlyn speaks vaguely about a “mistake.”  “What’s your mistake?” he asks.  Harrison pretends like he doesn’t have any idea she’s slept with Nick even though we all know he’s seen the raw footage. “Off Camera Time,” is introduced as a euphemism for the gratuitous fornication she engaged in with Nick. 

Harrison:  Here’s what we’re going to do.  You’re clearly not capable of either keeping your legs together or of telling the truth about it.  In light of that we’re going to drop the dead weight, narrow it to 3 dudes, let you “even the playing field” in the Fantasy Suites with some "off camera time" with each dude, and after you decide who is horrible in bed, you’ll narrow it to 2 and THEN we’ll do hometowns.  You’re welcome.  I’ll tell the guys.  You stay here and finish your Kegels.  Out.   

Chris gets the “here boy, we’re going to the vet for a ‘check up’” first date.  The only difference between him and an aging pet is that he had no idea he was ABOOT to be put down.     

Helicopter date.  He feels lucky to get the date.  I’m sure Fredo felt lucky to get on the rowboat in the Godfather II. 

Cliffs of Moher.  That was pretty.  In fact, I am at a loss as to why Kaitlyn did not refer to it as the “perfect place to dump someone.”  Fair is fair, right?  Presumably, if there is a perfect place to fall in love, there is a perfect place to dump someone.  Again, guilt-ridden, Kaitlyn breaks down a bit before dropping the hammer without the courtesy of any Novocain.  She gets on “her” helicopter and Chris cries like a little girl on the side of that lonely cliff.  Well, it was lonely until a producer stepped in to ensure he wasn’t going to throw himself off of it.    

And then the episode threw itself off the cliff.  This episode truly was a cliff hanger.  Next week, we’ll see Kaitlyn exhibit some forced “honesty” and then we'll revel in the fallout.  I pray that at least one of the remaining bozos has the stones to go home on his own. 

Have a wonderful week.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be pacing in my royal blue, ill-fitting suit.  DP