Bachelor Juan Pablo Episode 5: Poon Tang Finger Bang in Da Nang

Hello, Readers.  Welcome to this week’s rundown of the big show.   Overall, it’s been busy at work lately.  For those of you who think that lawyers spend most of our time drinking single malt scotch at the country club telling war stories while our secretaries fight to keep the money printing machine full of paper, you’re sorely mistaken.  It’s hard work and, like Claire’s struggle with her hormones, it’s a love/hate relationship.  Oh, and for the record, I don’t drink scotch and I’m not a member of a country club. Thanks for listening.   Let’s get to the big recap.

11  Amazing's last night and 1 Journey.  For the first time in all of the years I've done this I've lost track of the total count.  I know, I'm horrible.  

Juan Pablo flies south from wherever he was last week to Vietnam, which is, of course, (say it with me) the perfect place to fall in love.  Well, it is if you ignore the fact that hundreds of thousands of people were executed at the hands of a ruthless Marxist/Leninist dictator in addition to the 60,000 American lives we lost there.  But hey, that’s neither here nor there.  It’s 2014 now and Juan Pablo is there to find his future bride—or at least bang a loose hairdresser in the ocean. 

Juan Pablo dons his coral linen shirt and turquoise blue shorts:  a fitting tribute to the subtlety of the Miami dress code.  He’s “escited” to be in Vietnam.  He enjoys a Joseph Conrad Heart of Darkness-esque boat ride down a muddy Vietnamese River.  

For you non-readers, I suppose I could have used Apocalypse Now, but you get the picture.  He’s not there to kill Col. Kurtz but, as fate would have it, he’ll encounter a few demons of his own this week.  I love it when reality TV accidentally means something, don’t you? 

The chicks arrive—also apparently oblivious of the rich, tragic history of the place—and Yay it up in Sinatra hats, Ubiquitous 30-foot Scarves, and Lululemon gear at Da Nang Airport before heading to the Intercontinental Da Nang Resort. 

Incidentally, the final U.S. artillery shot of the Vietnam War was fired from that airfield on August 3, 1972, right before we pulled our final troops out of there, two months after the Watergate break-in, and just over two years before Nixon’s resignation.  F that, though.  We’re here to find love.  

No Harrison.  

Two words:  Bull. Shit.  The Date Card gets dropped and this week’s star, Claire, shows us she can read. “Renee, Are we the right fit?”  Ironically, Claire would prove to be the “right fit” for Juan Pablo this week, but we’ll get to that in a bit.

We all know that I’ve picked Nikki to win—I’ll explain that in detail eventually.  However, I have to say that Juan Pablo is an idiot if he doesn’t pick Renee.  She’s legitimately excited, cool, perhaps the most normal person in the history of this show, a mom, and she didn’t over primp or overdress for the big date.  In other words, she’s herself.  No more.  No less.  I find that as refreshing as a 4 a.m. groping in a warm ocean.  Unlike the rest of the girls she’s not fighting to hide major personality flaws, daddy issues, or insecurity.  To me anyway, that’s admirable and very attractive.  Andi, on the other hand, begins to freak out again at her lack of control.

Relegated to the low budget “walk around town” date, Renee makes the most of the sweltering, oppressive humidity as she pretends not to notice Juan Pablo sweating through his bright yellow v-neck and army green shorts like Roberto at a final Rose Ceremony.  Dude is from Miami and he was bothered by the heat there.  Regardless, they press on.

They stroll through a series of unregulated food stands rife with exotic meats delicately accented by the presence of adorable stray, unvaccinated animals before heading to the Khanh Hung store so Renee can get “fitted” for a traditional silk dress that was designed in L.A. and made months before the date occurred.  Ahh, the magic of television. 

Juan Pablo proves that shouting in poor English is just as ineffective as speaking normally in poor English.  They shop for their respective offspring and continue to sweat like Martin Sheen deep in the heart of darkness.  

Boat ride.  Boring.   

They dine and Renee—who looked great in that silk dress—puts up with his Sport Coat and opinions before launching a wish lantern in the dirty river.   Those, of course, are illegal in the U.S. because they probably offend the turtles or something, but in Vietnam they don’t care.  I think we were all sick of Renee going on and on about that stupid mediocre kees she wanted from Juan Pablo.  I wished he’d kees her just to shut her up.  In spite of the lack of keesing, Renee gladly assepts these rose. 

Ding Dong.  Date Card. Group Date.

By the way, the “ding dong” above is supposed to signify the sound of the doorbell and not the name of the town where they were headed.   “Can you go with the flow?” Charlene, Chelsie, Kat, Cassandra, Claire, Kelly, Alli, Danielle, Andi get the group date and Andi complains about it while tellingly yet subconsciously using the word “control” about 100 times. 

“What am I doing here?” she laments.  Uh, getting a free trip around the world, not working, and sitting on your ass drinking unlimited free booze waiting for a Latin guy to call your number.  Stop bitching, please. It’s a shame, I thought.  She seems pretty cool and she’s certainly attractive.  She needs to get a hold of that side of her personality.  No one likes a Fun Hater, Andi.       

Juan Pablo shows up in yellow shorts and blue v-neck looking like a Best Buy delivery person.  He tells the girls that they are going to do “traditional Vietnamese things.”  Like water torture and bamboo under the fingernails, I wondered.

They partner up in tea cup boats.  Claire eh-seemed preeety escited to ride with Juan Pablo who, despite his moratorium on kissing level-headed moms, had no problem shoving his tongue down her throat.  The other girls didn’t eh-seem preeety escited. 

Andi complains some more before they head to a rice patty and put on traditional pointy hats and pick their own produce.  Boring.  I enjoyed the Rodan-esque thinking monkey statue but that was about it.  Jealousy started to chip away at the women when Claire hogged some more of JP’s time. 

Memo to the women:  The worst thing a woman can do in that situation is get jealous.  Bite your tongue and just let it unfold.  For a textbook example, rewind to Emily on Brad’s season.  

Oh, and by the way, don’t get jealous at the time-tested, predictable format of the show you’ve been watching for 16 seasons and finally got to go on after you filled out your 16^th application to get on it.    It's a bit disingenuous.  Why do they all seem so shocked he's going to spend time with someone besides themselves?  Isn't that obvious?      

Danielle still stays mute and he takes Claire back to his eh-suite and makes her feel eh-special back in his hot tub.  Very eh-special.  

Let me take a step back and address the “Claire situation” right now. 

First, he banged her in the ocean.  No question.  Trust me on this one, ladies.  Claire made the decision to sleep with him after throwing her vagina around like a child’s sock monkey in the hot tub.  There’s no way in hell she would have reacted the way she did after he told her he regretted their little ocean swim if the exact same thing happened in the hot tub that happened in the ocean.  

I'd like to refer to the ocean swim from this point on as "The Tit Offensive."  Get it?  A little Vietnam humor for you there.  You're welcome.    

Oh, and by the way, I’m a guy which means that I can relate to Juan Pablo.  It was all over his face.  Like Brad failing to live down his Fantasy Room Chantal tryst when Emily found out about it, Juan Pablo will have to deal with the fallout when he and Nikki settle in to watch the show on the couch.  THAT’S why he was upset.  Camilla schamilla.  

Well that, and the fact that he realizes that Claire is going to snap like a dead branch over the next few weeks.  He’s only beginning to regret it.  Did you see his face when she made her little making memories, making love toast?  She’s got Stage 5 Clinger written all over her.  He should have read my blog.     

Date card. Nikki, let’s have a hell of a good time.

Nikki gets ready.  The headband was too much and she’s been losing me over the last two weeks.  I still think she’s The One, but she needs to follow her advice to the drunk Brazilian and “tone it down a bit.”

He “SU-pry-SES” Nikki by blindsiding her with her greatest fear before they metaphor their way to the bottom of a giant hole and she’s forced to hug him on camera despite the fact that he’s sweatier than a whore in church.   

Dinner.  Tiny black dress and blown out hair.  She looked great and scored huge points with the hope and innocence of children talk.  Solid work, Nikki.  Nice rally.     

Nikki, wheel you assept these rose?  

Juan Pablo opens his shirt all the way to his Khahn Hung and confuses us some more by refusing to kees but ultimately keesing Renee and then giving Claire the “that was a mistake” talk.  She cries at the prospect of offending Camilla by letting Juan Pablo south of her 38^th Parallel and into her Demilitarized Zone.  There hasn’t been that much action over there since the Gulf of Tonkin incident. 

Ahh, history humor.  I love it.  Annnnyyyyhoooo . . .

Guy’s Perspective?  When hot nubile chicks show up at your door drunk at 4 a.m. throwing the poon around you can’t blame yourself for taking the bait.   I’d like the female perspective on that, but come on.  What did she expect to accomplish?  

Every fish will bite the worm if it has the chance.  Claire’s an idiot for thinking that little stunt would seal the deal.   She should have coveted her hot tub time and patiently waited for the Fantasy Suite—where it is acceptable to sell out and go for broke.  Don’t you love the patent contradictions?  Man, there’s a lot to think about this week. 

Still, I can’t blame Claire for trying.  He’s been down her throat like streptococcus bacteria since the get go and you can’t blame her for going to get what she wants.  I don’t think that makes her a lascivious tramp.  I just think it makes her look foolish.  If it’s any consolation, Juan Pablo will have to deal with that much longer than she will.  To paraphrase a relevant movie, “Juan Pablo loves the smell of regret in the morning.” 

One final thought on this and then I’ll stop preaching.  Ladies, when a guy looks you in the eye and says “it’s over, water under the bridge, we’re fine, let’s just move on” HE FREAKING MEANS IT.   Men can compartmentalize and can literally just forget about an incident like that.  Juan Pablo was clearly in that mindset last night.  Claire will encounter a big freaking problem when she packs that baggage and flies it all the way to New Zealand next week.    

My favorite line in the entire Juan Pablo/Claire apology talk exchange was when he told her he’d feel the same way if “I was in joor choose.”  Solid.  Claire spends the rest of the night in deep regret pretending to the other women that she has an allergy problem.  What is she allergic to, Spanglish and Promiscuity? 

Harrison shows up at the awkward moment.  Roses are dispensed. 

1.         Renee

2.         Claire

3.         Nikki

4.         Sharleen

5.         Cassandra

6.         Chelsie

7.         Kat

8.         Andi

Danielle, Alli, and Kelly all go home with class.   

I actually liked all three of them. 

Danielle was steady but quiet, Kelly was cool and so was Alli.  They all cry.  Kelly was funny and actually won me over by overcoming the Dog Lover title.  I suspect the funny personality masked some insecurities, but she seemed cool.  Danielle never got much traction beyond her “is it flat, is it curly” hair style changes and I suspect she’s just a bit too passive to distinguish herself in that setting.  Alli was the same way.  They’ll all be fine in their home towns and they’ll all thank their lucky Estrellas when they hit the open bar and buffet before the Women Tell All taping. 

As Joseph Conrad wrote in Heart of Darkness:

Did he live his life again in every detail of desire, temptation, and surrender during that supreme moment of complete knowledge? He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision, – he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath –"The horror! The horror!"

The horror indeed.  Have a great week.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be in Da Nang at the Khahn Hung eating a Ding Dong before taking a late night swim in the Gulf of Poon Tang.  DP