Bachelor Juan Pablo Final Episode: Conjunto Con Un Pinche Cabron

NOTE:  If you commented on the Teaser Post "No Juan Wants to Talk to Me," see below.  I tried to get to them all before posting this.  Thanks!  DP

Well hello, Readers.  Welcome to the close of yet another season of the show we all ask ourselves why we watch.  Before I get to the ass-handing that Juan Pablo was given by Clare, Harrison, Sean Lowe (sort of), and his ill-fitting Eurosuit, let me set up the Post and the Off-Season.  After all, life is easier when we know the expectations.  It makes it easier to lower our own. 

This will obviously be my final post of the big season.  However, I do have a post or two in the cannon, as I found some time to write and some much needed inspiration on my recent trip to Vail, Colorado.  I also broke a couple of ribs skiing (poorly), but that’s another story.  

It seems that the fluffy, white powder racing beneath my skis is neither fluffy, nor powdery when you hit it shoulder-first at full speed.  What can I say?  I grew up in Texas.  Water skiing is one thing, snow skiing is another.  Any lesser blogger would have cashed it in. 

As for my off-season posts, I can’t promise any regularity.  I’ve tried that in the past and you’ve been sorely disappointed, so I won’t make that mistake again.  Work is . . . well, work, and I’ve got more to do now that I have ever had to do in my entire career.  That’s exciting and terrifying at the same time.  The good news is that three things bring me real peace: A Good Book, A Good Workout, and A Good Blog Post.  I’ll write, but I don’t know how much.  Check in from time to time, please.    

Thank you all so much for your loyalty over the last few years.  I appreciate the time you take each week to read what falls out of my head and into the keyboard.  Now, let’s get to it. 

With Chardonnay chilled, plates prepared, and charcuterie chopped we headed into the big show, breathless with anticipatory glee waiting to see Juan Pablo fumble the ball on the goal line.  And boy did he fumble.  

Not since Wes Hayden went rogue after his Assassination by Edit has ABC turned so patently and so belligerently against a cast member on this show.  Harrison was brutal—and visibly annoyed.  Hell, even Roz Papas was given the courtesy of that fat guy in the leather hat to help her carry her sh*t.  

(You didn’t think I could not mention that guy in the final post of the season, did you?)

Harrison was indifferent toward Ben, but he clearly hated Juan Pablo because Harrison knew what an insincere, self-centered, macho, Latin jerkoff he was while the rest of us were still in the dark about it.  He was like ABC’s Morpheus offering us the red pill—a better looking, pearly toothed Morpheus. 

Juan Pablo is a Chach, Neo.  Soon, you will believe.

We begin with the usual set up in St. Lucia, this year’s scene of the Final Selection.  Little did we know we would see the third woman this season making the biggest selection rather than our dopey, semi-literate Bachelor. 

Still delusional, Clare arrives in a strappy purple number to meet the Juan Pablos while Juan Pablo broods amongst the flora and fauna in turquoise dropping a familiar (and foreboding) sentiment that he “likes [Clare] a lot . . . physically.”  I could almost hear the collective sigh of the astute women in the bunch but it was drowned out by the collective awww of those of you who had not yet taken the red pill. 

Clare meets Juan Pablo’s family.  

Let’s see, there was his dad Saul Pablo, mom Nelly Pablo, brother Rodolfo Pablo, his cousin Rodrigo Pablo, and, of course, the adorable Camilla Pablo.  There were perhaps more Pablos running around, but I must have missed them.  Carla ex-Pablo apparently did not make the treep.  Eeees Ok.    

Clare makes a mistake off the bat.  First, she tells the family her mother is Mexican.  What’s the problem, you ask?  Well, there wouldn’t be one if the Juan Pablos were not an incredibly traditional Venezuelan family.  I’ve got news for you.  A large portion of South America views Mexico as a third world country and, by extension, looks down on its people. 

For those of you with South American blood reading this (including my mother-in-law’s family) you know what I’m talking about.  It’s a stereotype, yes, but the prejudice exists and it was palpable with Clare.  Frankly, the family seemed just as self interested as Juan Pablo.  She also admitted to never learning Spanish, another no no.     

Clare meets with Nelly Pablo and she tees up perhaps the most shocking aspect of the finale for me.  She leads into her description of her own son as “eeee-per-acteeve” (that’s "hyperactive" in case you missed the ABC subtitle) and then proceeds to tell Clare he’s an asshole.  That was the first Amazing thing I’d seen all season. 

THEN, the rest of the Pablos proceed to do the exact same thing.  Granted, they politely refer to Juan Pablo as “difficult” or “not easy” but the red flag couldn’t have been more obvious than if Saul Pablo himself ran up behind Nelly Pablo and set it En Fuego.  Clare wiggled in denial as we all yelled at our screens.   

“When I’m in love I’m 1000% sure that I’ll do anything at all,” she giggles.  Like what, Clare?  Wait outside his house, slit his tires, and burn his belongings if he leaves you?  It was at this point I began to feel bad for Clare.

It was so obvious how desperate she was, and, with the rest of the season’s “incidents” in context, it was pretty clear that she’d gone for broke.  It’s too bad she didn’t realize how broke she really was before the “incident” in the ocean.  I’ve knocked her around this season more than Juan Pablo knocked her around in the Fantasy Suite, but I’ve never said she’s not a nice person.  Catty?  Sure.  Desperate? Yes.  But not spiteful, insincere, or ill-meaning.       

Rodolfo Pablo—who sounded a lot like Inigo Montoya in Princess Bride—again confirms that Juan Pablo is “not easy.”  Look, even though I’m 100% sure that a person can’t 1000% anything, I was 1000% sure that this was going to end badly for someone. 

Nikki is up.  

Rodolfo Pablo ees soopur escited to meet Neekee.   She arrives in pink bearing gifts and wearing a bra this time.  After giving some canned answers to Saul Pablo, Saul Pablo says that Juan Pablo “thinks he knows the truth about everything.”  Wow.  Was it just me or could all of you also picture Andi’s father gloating into his giant triple scotch in his recliner in Atlanta?    

Allow me to cut to the chase on this one.  I know you’re all awaiting my “Nikki Theory.”  Before I do, let me also say that this entire episode should be shown to all single girls in America and should be dissected and analyzed to illustrate the classic mistakes made by women in relationships.  Sex in the City, Schmex in the City.  Like the Nikki choice, this was textbook.  More about that in a bit.   

Juan Pablo acts like Juan Pablo and says something disrespectful and filthy to Clare.  I’m certain he could have said the exact same disrespectful and filthy thing to her in the ocean five shows ago when she really barely knew him and it wouldn’t have mattered, but that’s neither here nor there. 

She’s more invested now and won’t put up with that sort of thing.  Sure, a surreptitous romp in the ocean while he’s still sucking the tongues out of the faces of 15 other women she calls friends (except the winner) is fine.  So is lying about it.  But after she sleeps with him a second time in the Fantasy Suite she deserves to be treated like a lady.  

Please.  What did she expect?  What did you expect?  

It’s too bad Andi had the wherewithal to leave early.  Maybe one of ABC’s lawyers could have explained the concept of precedent to Clare before the big finale.  I’m not discounting the fact that what he said was ill-timed, insensitive in light of her skewed version of things, and makes him a bigger idiot than I thought, but I found the indignant stance she took a bit delusional.  Clare made her own bed by jumping into his a couple of times; however, I’ll agree that he crossed the line. 

Lesson number one:  Ladies, don’t jump into the ocean, the bed, the back seat, or anywhere else with a man you hardly know and then expect him to respect you much less fall in love with you.  To put it as bluntly as I once told a former female roommate of mine with a penchant for sleeping around first and then wondering why the phone never rang:  Don't lead with the poon.  

If all you want is sex, fine.  Own it.  However, if you want a long-term relationship you can’t get laid on the foundation before laying the foundation.  Juan Pablo is simply an extreme illustration of what most men think when that sort of thing happens.  He’s not eeee-per-acteeve, he’s a eeee-per-bo-lee (that’s "hyperbole" in case you missed the subtitle). 

I, for one, was proud of Clare for attempting to draw a line in the sand after that little exchange, but horrified when she gave him the satisfaction of muchos besitos after he manipulated his way back in  to her good graces by using her dead father, his daughter, every vulnerable thing she shared with him, and capped it off by offering her marriage and children “within 2 months.” 

I don’t know what the gestation period is in Venezuela, but I’m 1000% certain it’s not two months.  If I recall correctly, a cat has about a two-month gestation period.  It’s not surprising that Juan Pablo was thinking about pussy at a time he should have been thinking about Clare’s feelings. 

Clare was so close to achieving more personal growth at that moment than she had in her first 32 years.  Unfortunately, she fell short.  Like in the Women Tell All, Juan Pablo begins to get a real taste of that happens when the accent and his bullshit get old.   I rolled my eyes into my last sip of Lone Star and hoped Clare would walk away with as little emotional damage as possible.      

Nikki goes bikini. 

“That’s what you call trying to win,” I said to Mrs. Some Guy.  “No shit,” was her response.  No shit indeed. 

They talk aboard “his” yacht and she fails to make the distinction between Juan Pablo being “guarded” vs. just being a shallow schmuck.  Apparently, the accent and the bullshit haven’t worn off with her yet.  Where was Harrison with his red pill? 

I was encouraged for a moment when she asked, “what happens when you don’t have private islands anymore?”  Exactly.  Unfortunately, it went nowhere.   

Again, these are two textbook cases of women in denial. 

• Both women watched as two of the smartest, most secure women in the house, Sharleen and Andi, intentionally removed themselves from the show because he was a jerk. 

• Both women watched as he took making out in front of the other women to an entirely new level, even for this show.

• Both women saw him dismiss the drunk Brazilian as she cried in the bathroom and leave for the mansion.  Granted, she was hammered, but a gentleman would have at least ensured she got home safely.

• Both women ignored the fact that he touted being a father as the most important thing in his life but sent Renee home--the most obvious choice to be a stepmother to Cameeeela and the only one who acted like one all season.

• Both women were repeatedly ignored, dismissed, or placated by him in the face of even the most basic questions and both women endured overtly sexual comments and gestures in front of the other women and in private in lieu of real conversation. 

He was neither charming, nor engaging.  He was dismissive, aloof, shallow, chauvinistic, and inappropriate.  He was a show off.   

YET, they both slept with him and both blew by every red flag draped at eye level across the intersection of Amazing Blvd. and Journey Ave.  They both surrendered their self-respect and their sense of decency in the face of their families’ advice and counsel in the name of being the last woman standing amongst the flora and fauna and presumptuously took for granted they’d be wearing the Neil Lane ring looking down at a guy neither of them really knew and, dare I say, REALLY liked.  They were just as naïve and ignorant as he was obnoxious and insincere.    

When there’s a sign in the road, Ladies, take the Rose Colored Glasses off, slow down, and take a moment to read it before heading over the cliff at the end of that road.  If you choose to ignore it, at least you’ve been warned.  

Rarely, if ever, have I had a visceral reaction to this show (well, if you exclude laughing hysterically while Jake ratted on Wes, cried on a balcony, got cheated on at his own cocktail party, cried about it, and then broke down in a fit of acrophobia on a date with Vienna and then cried about it despite being a pilot); however, I really found myself mad at all 3 of them.     

Final Send Off

Clare’s send off was Epic.  From the look of disgust to the double Heisman she hit him with when he went in for an assumptive goodbye hug all the way to the bra burning, I am Woman Hear me Roar speech she masterfully pulled off, it was pure Bachelor gold.  

Rage spawns irrationality but controlled anger is a pointy spear and Clare hit a bullseye just shy of an F Off.  Here’s some footage of her metamorphosis.

If ANY of you actually know Clare or someone who knows her, get this to her.

Open Letter to Clare. 

Dear Clare,

In that one moment when you found it within you to throw a double-fisted hug block into the chest of the opportunistic bonobo monkey in front of you, you took the red pill.  All of the garbage you spouted early in the season about being a strong woman who hasn’t found love or the right guy faded away like the dopey smile on Juan Pablo’s humiliated, sexist face when you let him have it. 

The only thing that all of your relationships have in common is you.  The only person who can fix you is not a misogynistic, disrespectful Neanderthal; it’s you.  Remember what that moment felt like and remember how different its aftermath felt after the crying stopped.  Remember that and you won’t fall for hair gel, soccer stories, poor English, or intentional stupidity again.  Congratulations, Clare. 

Love, Some Guy in Austin

P.S. (Please don’t do Bachelor Pad).

P.P.S. (If you know, please tell me what’s in that blue water you wash your combs in).

  

I’ll sum up Nikki’s choice as catastrophically blind and just leave it at that.  Feeling the pressure of St. Lucia and simply agreeing to agree is one thing but after watching the season she should have had more self respect than to keep her mouth completely shut even if she was contractually obligated to show up.  She’s intelligent, but she’s not smart and she looked incredibly foolish seeting there glued to Juan Pablo’s underarm like a sex toy while he refused to admit that he more than “liked her a lot” despite an avalanche of direct questions from Harrison.    

Buena Suerte con el pendejo, Neekee. 

Now, how did Some Guy “know” it was going to be Neekee from the beginning?  Here goes.

It was apparent to me from early on that Juan Pablo had a traditionally Latin view of women.  I have a couple of friends from South America and their families are extremely traditional.  Women listen to the men.  The man is the king of the house.  You know the drill.  My guess was that Juan Pablo was of that ilk.  That was a guess.  I also guessed that he was either a brunette guy or a blonde guy.  I picked blonde because Miami is filled with dark-headed Cubans and I thought he might like a change.  I was right about that too. 

I looked at the profiles and saw that Nikki had a stepmom-friendly career and assumed that the career would arouse his interest.  It did.  I also assumed that once he got a look at her in a cocktail dress and a bikini and realized she was 7 years younger than he was, she’d be in the final 3.  Men go younger.  It’s a fact.  Clare was his age and my other favorites were either brunette or older than Nikki.  Throw in a little luck and the fact that Juan Pablo theenks weeth his deek and boom, Some Guy is a Genius.  It’s that simple. 

It doesn’t hurt that—despite my MANY faults—I have the gift of empathy and find it very easy to get inside people’s heads.  I just dumbed myself down a bit, pretended I was a Venezuelan soccer player’s deek, and the answer hit me like two fists in the gut thrown by a disgruntled two-night stand.  

I realize that explanation is tantamount to Dorothy’s peek behind the curtain only to discover Wizard of Oz was really some short dude with a microphone, but (say it with me) I’m yust beeeing honest. 

Boom. 

Thank you all again for making this season a lot of fun for me.  Check back in every once in a while, would you?  I write for myself during the off-season, but I’ll post it anyway.  Take care of yourselves.  In the meantime, if you need me I’ll be wheespering filthy things into Mrs. Some Guy’s ear.  DP

 

Home.

   

 

Bachelor Juan Episode 10: No Juan Wants to Talk to Me

Hello, Readers.  Can you feel it?  That's the hair on the back of your anxious necks standing on end in anticipation of Some Guy's Final Take on the Final Take of this Season's Bachelor.  

Man, was it a doozy.  Clare found her spine, Harrison's claws came out, Juan Pablo lost his charm, and Nikki lost my respect.  It was like an F-ed up version of the Wizard of Oz--well, minus little people in degrading costumes and a black and white beginning.  

The post is in the works and should be up later this evening or no later than coffee time tomorrow morning.  In the meantime, feel free to continue our robust Twitter discussion from last night in the comments section below while appreciating this message to Juan Pablo.  

Hasta Luego.  

DP

Juan Pablo Episodes 8 & 9: Dios Mio

Hello, Readers.  Thanks for your patience over the past week.  I’m on a short leash this coming week as well.  Corpus Christi, Texas is in my near future and I’ll scarcely have time to breath the refinery-tainted air out there before heading back through San Antonio, back to Austin, and jumping on a plane for Colorado Springs, Denver, and some ski and après ski time in Vail with the twin of Some Guy and Some Guy’s childhood friends. 

I’m going to use my gift for consolidation here and break down the Hometown and Fantasy Date of each of the women rather than a play by play which—if we’re all honest—we’ve all forgotten anyway already.  Hell, I won’t even remember half of the women who show up on the Women Tell All this week. 

Now, with no further delay, let’s get to it. 

RENEE

I started this with a “poor Renee” but after thinking about it for a few days I’ve changed my mind.  Like Ben before him, Juan Pablo has succeeded in taking me from an indifferent yet supportive bystander to someone who can’t stand him.   

He’s a one trick monkey—a sexist one trick monkey.   Look, I’m far from Gloria Steinem and I’m no---what’s that Feminine Mystique broad’s name?—Betty Friedan, but my litmus test for that sort of thing is “if it bothers me, it must be bad.”  The way he oooos and ahhhhs and talks about the women bothers me.  I’ll grant him a Latin culture card, but I think what I’m sensing is a little deeper than a simple cultural difference.  He’s also unbelievably self-centered.  I alluded to that a few weeks ago and Andi sure as hell felt that way this week---after her dad pointed it out.  Perhaps Juan Pablo’s smoking hot ex-wife could shed some light on that for us? 

As an aside, I had an extremely militant feminist as a professor in my literary criticism class in college (shocking, I know) who required us to read The Feminine Mystique.  After an entire semester of being shamed for having a penis, I chose to write my final paper criticizing that book—her Bible.  I think my big points were that it seemed to criminalize being a stay at home mother and a member of the middle class in addition to striking me as hostile toward gay people. 

Frankly, at that point in my life I had no idea where I stood on any of those issues.  I just wanted a rise out of the professor.  I got it.  When I got my paper back a few weeks later I turned to the back page to see my grade.  Scrawled heavily in deep red ink was “Mr. SGIA, I could not disagree more with your analysis.  However, even I have to admit that it is well argued.  You have a future if you open your mind to it.  A-.”  I’ll give her credit for being objective in the face of a clear attempt to piss her off.  Even I had to admit that was well played. 

Back to our non-feminist Bachelor. 

Renee walks around on the beach until Juan Pablo shows up in another set of pedicure sandals walking like a five year old who has to pee.  What the hell is it with this guy?  Scarves?  Bright colored flip flops? A collection of V-necks?  He might need to rethink his comments about a gay bachelor not working on television.  Incidentally, I wonder what his response would have been had he been asked about a misogynist bachelor.  I think we know what it would have been?  “What do thees word ‘misogyist’ mean?” 

I was pretty sure at this point that Renee wasn’t headed for a romp in the Fantasy Suite.  It’s a shame that she wasn’t aware of it.  The look on the kid’s face when he met Juan Pablo was classic.  I’m surprised he didn’t look at Renee and say, “are you serious with this guy?”  I’d be willing to bet that’s the exact reaction the kid’s dad had, however. 

Juan Pablo meets the fam.  They all seemed nice, down-to-earth, normal people with Renee and Ben’s best interest in mind.  Her mother and father’s “you’re an adult and we support you even if we don’t agree with you” reaction mirrored Nikki’s family’s reaction; both of which were in stark contrast to Clare and Andi’s families’ “I want you to do what I think is best for you because of the way this affects my feelings” reactions.  More about that later. 

Juan Pablo underwhelms.  So much so that Renee can’t bring herself to tell her she loves him.   You know what?  If you can’t say it, you don’t mean it. 

Turns out that her indecisiveness in Florida proved fortuitous by the time she struck out at the Rose Ceremony.  She was understandably disappointed but kept it together well and assepted what happened with dignity.  She accidentally hit the nail on the head when she said “this is ridiculous.”  She also wisely observed, “you can’t force anyone to love you.”  

Finally, a woman on the show who reads my blog.  She gets it and he’s an idiot for not picking her.  If she’d have shut up there she’d have scored a 100 on how to come in fourth place; however, she had to end it by saying “there’s not a lot of guys like Juan Pablo.”  

I beg to differ.  You can stand in downtown South Beach, throw a maraca in any direction, and hit a Juan Pablo.  Dime a dozen, Renee.  Sorry you "lost", but my guess is you’ll be much happier than the actual “winner.” 

Renee is a nice person.  It's impossible to know her flaws or her true personality, but from what I saw, I believe she deserves to be happy.  She's not Bachelorette material, but I'm certain we'll see her again.  

"Keep love in your heart.   A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead."  ---Oscar Wilde

Renee will find a flower-filled, sun-soaked garden one day.  

CLARE

Clare  wanders in Sacramento amongst the flowers.  Juan Pablo shows up in (soo-price) a t-shirt. It’s a good thing he dressed up to meet the family.   Clare talks and talks about her dead father.  It was sad, really.  Sad not because of her giant loss but because she cheapened it by talking about it on the show.  “Get to the hostile sister,” I said aloud between Lone Star sips.  Fortunately, they heard me.   

Lilia, Lisa, Laura, Madeline, Julie, Ernie constitute the gauntlet.  They sidestep the beach bang and tell Odysseus-esque tales about their adventures.  I pulled that analogy out of the clear blue sky; however, like Odysseus, Juan Pablo did, in fact, see a lot of action in the ocean.  Annnyyyhooo. . . .

Clare searches for approval---hard.  The sisters bust his balls a bit and he makes every answer about himself.  Laura—the sister who will inevitably contest mom’s Will and be the first one over at the house trolling through her jewelry box after her mother dies—goes absolutely crazy.    

That sucks for Clare.  The real issue hiding beneath the fire pit was the fact that the entire family had not let go of Clare’s father.  That family would benefit much more from a visit from Dr. Jamie rather than Juan Pablo.  The “Perfect Man” is difficult if not impossible to live up to.   Juan Pablo is not going to be filling those zapatos any time soon.   

On the Fantasy Date Clare downplays the fingerbang in the ocean in addition to actually using the word “crazy” to describe her family.  It’s been a rough go for Clare this season.  She’s a 30-something in a field of hot 20-somethings with nothing substantive to offset the age difference.  The fact that Juan Pablo can’t see beyond his own nose doesn’t help her cause. 

Clare did a less than convincing job pretending that she had doubts about heading to the Fantasy Suite after foregoing the foreplay.  Her white dress didn’t exactly extoll the virtues of a chaste woman and all Juan Pablo had to do to close the deal was to spout off some garbage about the value of alone time.  After all, he tells us, “thas when jew get to know these person.”  Clare is ready to bang her way into a Neil Lane creation and he knew it.    

Keeping up the façade, she asks, “Is it weird I want to meet Camilla?” 

I waited for him to respond, “Not at all.  Nikki met her three weeks ago.”  Total burn, Clare.  Total burn.    

Juan Pablo is aware Clare is in heat and after touching her face to confirm it, they close the deal in the Suite.   They spend some bal-u-a-bull time in the ha-coo-zee as well.   Clare earned her rose.  Frankly, they might deserve each other.     

ANDI

Rather than belabor Juan Pablo’s trip to Atlanta, I’d like to speak about the entire interaction with the family and her subsequent reaction to the Fantasy Suite date from the familiar and comfortable confines of my soapbox.  Here goes. 

It was apparent from the get-go where Andi gets her control issues.  Dad was none too happy about having a camera crew in his castle and even less happy about having a shady Venezuelan attempting to charm the one-piece off his daughter. 

He was rude, presumptuous, and disrespectful to Andi and Juan Pablo the entire time.   Before we all deal with the “that’s his little girl and she always will be” argument, let me “ass jew a kwesh-un.”  

Do any of you honestly think that Nikki’s parents were any more thrilled than Andi’s about their little angel trouncing all over the world with a promiscuous Latin stranger and bringing him into their homes after knowing him only a few weeks before heading to a tropical island with him and two other women so he can take them all for a test drive? 

The answer to that, by the way, is hell no.    Here’s the difference:  Renee’s family and Nikki’s family both went with “you’re a responsible adult and we trust your judgment.  We will support you even if we don’t agree.”  Even Andi’s sister had a version of that when she told her that she respected her but just didn’t see the attraction.  These are 26-32 year old adult women and, in Andi’s case, she has a doctorate and a career.  These are not children we’re talking about. 

In my humble opinion, both Andi’s dad and Clare’s evil sisters were not trying to protect Andi or Clare.  Rather, they were trying to protect their own feelings about the (to be fair) odd situation they’d been asked to endure.  

Their reactions were not about wanting Clare or Andi to be happy.   Their reactions were attempts to control the situation by dictating an outcome that they didn’t have to be uncomfortable with.  Loving and respecting someone often means surrendering your own feelings in deference to theirs.  Granted, there are exceptions, but bringing the Bachelor home for dinner is not one of them.  Her father can’t be naïve enough to think that his little girl has made it through the first 26 years of her life without being felt up by a less than desirable suitor.   

Mark Twain wrote, “Laws control the lesser man... Right conduct controls the greater one.” 

It was apparent from Clare’s family that they all have problems letting things go.  I think that was apparent with Andi’s family as well.  In fact, I think Andi’s little “you don’t know me” rant on her way out the door was

A. Precipitated by her father’s disapproval, i.e., an excuse for her to leave and,

B.  A desperate attempt on her part to control Juan Pablo’s reaction. 

After all, if she really wanted out as badly as she said she did, his “Eees Ok, Eees Fine” would have sufficed.  Putting it in Twain’s terms, they all have their laws to abide by, but the respect and love they share for their sister and daughter should breed right conduct rather than judgment.  I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.

Juan Pablo shows up to meet Andi post-hometown in a hyper-gay hot pink tank top with green trim and cargo shorts.  We assume he washed off all traces of Clare with that blue water she keeps her combs and scissors in.

He has a soo-price for Andi.  Another waterfall.  Hey, it worked the first time.  Why not?  He then leads her into the bush hoping she’ll return the favor in the Fantasy Suite later (subtle, I know).   

So as not to upset her father, Andi sports yet another one piece in a waterfall before pulling her hombre hair back and heading to dinner so she can tell Juan Pablo that she’s just about pretty close to possibly almost loving him someday.   

His response?  “Jew are preeety ee-see.”  Like Clare?  I wondered.  He is yet again dismissive.     

My guess is that Juan Pablo was no more dismissive, sexist, and self-involved in the Fantasy Suite than he was at dinner.   Still, she chose to forego the foreplay and readily headed to the Fantasy Suite—where there is no doubt in my mind she slept with him. 

Back to Gloria Steinem for a moment. 

Look, she’s a consenting adult and so is he.  If she wants to sleep with him, that’s her choice and her business.  However, after making that choice under what appeared to be neither duress nor intoxication, she should own it rather than “realizing he’s not the man she thought he was.”  Sorry, but I’m not buying it.  Andi wanted out because her family hated Juan Pablo.  She found a reason after she got what she wanted:  a free trip to St. Lucia and a roll in the hay with Juan Pablo. 

Oh, and for those of you who disagree, let me put you a bit at ease.  There’s no doubt that she was correct about Juan Pablo’s lack of attention to anything but his tank tops.  My point is not that she was justified in feeling the way she did.  My point is that I don’t believe a woman as astute and well-groomed as she is suddenly awoke in the Fantasy Suite to an epiphany that he wasn’t “The One.”  I hope she got loaded on the plane ride home.  By the way, how do you think the old man will react when he sees the waterfall date?  Ooof.  

NIKKI

Kansas City Bar-B-Que, Beers, a honky tonk, and a mechanical bull.  Frankly, I can’t think of a better date.  Every bit of it was wasted on Juan Pablo.  After showing up in some kind of Poke-a-hontas halter top and flowly church window pants Nikki and Juan Pablo go for a horse ride in his tank top where he makes a ton of sexually charged comments about Nikki. 

Mrs. SGIA (who is incidentally about as laid back as it gets):  He’s a pig. 

Sadly, I have to agree with her.  He’s proven to be as shallow as his command of the English language.  He can’t eat ribs, two-step, or ride a mechanical bull but he can salsa dance?  I glossed over the fact that he can’t shoot a gun either.  Dios Mio.  Look, far be it from me to project my own version of masculinity upon Juan Pablo but come on now.  At least one out of the four would have been semi-acceptable.    

SGIA:  (shaking head and getting up to go to the bathroom after seeing Juan Pablo on the bull)

Mrs. SGIA:  You want me to hit pause?

SGIA:  Please don’t. 

Deen-er with Nee-kee was pointless.  She tried really hard to open up.  She did well, but again, he was oblivious and myopic.

Harrison meeting.  Harrison sets up the big Andi confrontation.  The fact that Juan Pablo was clueless as to what went on proves Andi’s point.  He was literally too self-absorbed to even remotely sense there was a problem.  I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and say that she didn’t fake everything in the Fantasy Suite.   

Harrison does his best to set up the Andi confrontation by turning the butter knife slowly. I love knowing Harrison knows what Juan Pablo doesn’t know and that we know that Harrison knows but Juan Pablo doesn’t know what Harrison knows. 

Rose Ceremony. 

They all looked incredible. 

Harrison earns his paycheck.  He drops the “so difficult” “gravity of the situation” talk.  

Ladies, Juan Pablo…whenever you're ready.

Nikki

v.

Clare

Man, wait until Nikki finds out about Clare in the ocean.  He couldn’t even talk his way past Andi when he was over it. 

Well, there it is.  A late summary of the last two shows.  As mentioned, I’m traveling more than a Bachelor pre-production site scout this week.  Weigh in on my comments and let me know what you think.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be drinking a giant scotch and water trying to rid my home of a shady, poly-amorous, Venezuelan.  DP

Juan Pablo Episodes 8 and 9: Eees OK, Eees Fine

Hello, Readers.  Happy Texas Independence Day.

Let me address the large Mexican Army in the room.  It's apparent that I haven't written about my two favorite episodes just yet.  I have a mountain of material from the Home Towns and Fantasy Dates.  However, those of you in my line of work will understand the nature of the work and the urgency that often arises.  The commitment required is one of complete focus.  In short, it's been one of those weeks and, believe me, I regret not having the opportunity to write just as much as you regret not having the opportunity to summarily ditch your work obligations for half an hour while you chuckle like a child into your computer screens.  

I am committed to writing tonight and a post will be up late tonight for you to enjoy on your Monday.  Sorry for the delay.  

Joseph Heller wrote in Catch-22, "The Texan turned out to be good-natured, generous and likable.  In three days no one could stand him." 

I'd imagine your feelings toward me are about the same at this point.  I promise not to disappoint.  

Enjoy your Sunday.  We'll talk soon.  Eees OK.  Eees Fine.