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

Some Guy Tells All--Special Post

NOTICE: THIS IS THE SECOND ENTRY THIS WEEK. IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR EPISODE 10 MEN TALL ALL, SCROLL DOWN OR CLICK ON THE TITLE ON THE RIGHT HAND SIDE. ENJOY. DP.

Hello Readers. Welcome to my special—albeit stolen—version of the Tell All from our favorite show. As was the case with my Stuff Chicks Like series, I received a lot of questions and a lot of emails. Thanks to all of you who played along. I’ve done my best to pick the group of questions that I thought would provide the best answers to all of them. In short, if you don’t see your question below, please don’t feel slighted or ignored. It was tough to narrow these down. If you still have questions after reading this, email me and I’ll do my best to answer. I’d hate to disappoint.

On another note, I want to say that I greatly appreciate all of you for reading, participating, and actually caring. It’s a joy to open up the blog on Tuesday afternoon and read all of the feedback (positive and negative). This season has been fun for me and I’ve actually taken the time to correspond with many of you via email. Keep the comments and emails coming. Honestly, those are the things that keep me afloat at 2am while I’m writing the blog.

You’ll also notice that I’ve added a fancy hit counter to the top of the blog. The goal is to get as many hits as I possibly can. For all of you blog pimps out there, feel free to send this to anyone who might be interested and annoy anyone who might not care with the link. The bigger this thing gets, the better the site will get. I’m looking into beefing it up after the Bachelor Pad season ends but I need to grow the audience in order to do that.

Finally, although my beguiling demeanor will undoubtedly seep through in my answers below, I’ll caution that this entry will probably not be hysterically funny. My goal here is to answer honestly and give you a better idea of who Some Guy in Austin is on a daily basis. I’ll try and provide some levity, but you get the idea.

With all of that out of the way, enjoy Some Guy in Austin Tells All. Your questions are below. Let’s get to it.

What is your guilty pleasure?

This is really hard to narrow down. I’m a “live life” kind of guy and I spend a lot of time in pursuit of a whole host of things that bring me great joy. I love sad, old country songs and I’ve been known to go to my favorite hole in the wall bar alone on a week night, drop five bucks in the jukebox, play every sad country song on it, and drink Lone Star Beer until the songs run out. For those of you not from Texas, let me define “country song.” I’m talking about any song in the formerly labeled “Country & Western” genre recorded before Garth Brooks messed it up for everyone. We don’t line dance here in Texas and true fans don’t listen to some jackass in a crunched up “cowboy” hat in skin tight jeans and a muscle shirt carry on about his tractor or jump around the beach singing about spring break or whatever. Saying that’s country music is like saying that Justin Bieber is a rock singer.

I love live music, two-stepping, and being at places where people know my name. I frequent the same 4 or 5 places. I love to bowl. I love the outdoors. I love chocolate. I love pearl snap shirts and dirty jokes. I rarely sleep. I find real peace on a mountain bike in and around Austin and also on the lake or in the mountains. Let’s just say I have two speeds: 80 and parked. I suppose everything I do is a guilty pleasure. That’s good and that’s bad.

I was going to go with “Mexican food” but that answer was thankfully stolen.

What are your tattoos of and what do they represent?

I have 7 tattoos. I’m not covered like Wes Hayden or anything, but they all mean something. I’ve gotten them at various times during my life and they all reflect a piece of those times. What’s the most interesting one for you to know about? I have a tattoo of James Dean’s face on my left hip that I got when I was 19 years old at a studio in Austin, Texas. I loved James Dean’s movies growing up. A girlfriend I’d dated for two years cheated on me and dumped me. Depressed, I decided to get a tattoo to cheer me up. I had a friend draw me a picture of James Dean and took it into a tattoo studio the next day. It took 4 hours and hurt like hell.

Trivia: My college roommate came with me to get the tattoo. After it was done, we went to our favorite bar Downtown. He made me open my pants and show my left hip to a couple of girls thinking it would impress them. One of the girls took one look at it, set down her beer, and dropped her pants and panties down in the bar to reveal a giant, pink flamingo tattoo just above her whatnot. She became known as “The Flamingo Chick.” My college roommate ended up dating her for a few months. I often wonder if that flamingo has aged well.

If you were a contestant on the Bachelorette, what would your opening line be coming out of the limo on the first night?

I get this question, or something similar, all the time. I suppose the short answer is that the Producers would feed me “my” opening line if I was to go on the show, but I’ll play along. I could go with the aww shucks Austin guy “well, howdy” line. I could go big with something like “you know what would look good on you? Me.” I could go funny with “you look good enough to put on a plate and sop up with a biscuit.” I could go with the “what a bunch of cheese bags so far, huh?” line or I could go with my personal favorite pick up line, “can I buy you a drink or do you just want the money?”

Honestly, I think eye contact, a pleasant smile, and a simple, sincere compliment trump a back flip off a limo any day of the week. The problem with going big early in the date is that you’re expected to be “on” all of the time. Ask Jim Carrey or the guy who plays Stifler in American Pie. A sincere hello and a smile are usually good enough for me to get things rolling. Call me crazy.

What is something about you that most people would never guess just by looking at you?

That I write a blog about the Bachelor/Bachelorette. That I have 7 tattoos. That I’m a lawyer. I asked a friend of mine how she would answer this question if she were me. “There’s not a lot of pretense about you.” “You are who you are,” is how she answered. I guess that’s as good an answer as any.

Trivia: Recently, I left my office at my “real” job to deposit an expense check at my bank. After, I walked to a local deli to get a sandwich. It was a Tuesday and I have a tendency to obsess on finding errors in the blog, so I check it on my iPhone periodically throughout the day. I was reading the blog while standing in line at the deli and I heard three women giggling behind me. Thinking I had toilet paper on my boot, I looked back. One of the women smiled and asked if I read the blog. The other one recognized me and they all laughed. “What are YOU doing here?” one of them asked. I told them that I worked across the street and they all laughed. That was my first brush with blog fame. It was funny.

If you were stuck on a heart-shaped island called Tupai, and you could only bring 3 of each, what would they be?

First of all, let’s just clarify that the island of Tupai was shaped more like a pancreas than a heart. This is actually a tougher question that you might imagine. I’m extremely passionate about all of the things listed below. I’m truly a fan of the people, words, and ideas. I know that sounds very Match.com-ish, but it’s true. Did I mention that I like walks on the beach and sunsets too?

In the spirit of not overanalyzing things (Frank), I’m going to just list the first things that come to mind and explain why. As the reader who sent this suggested, I assumed that my desert island, although isolated, has resort style qualities enabling me to watch movies, read, cook, and live comfortably. Wow, this is almost like a reality show.

Movies:

Forrest Gump. Why? Aside from the quality of the movie from an entertainment perspective, the movie took Groom’s book and turned Forrest into a softer, more lovable character. The entire story tackles the greatest philosophical conundrum since the beginning of time: Free Will vs. Destiny.

Forrest wonders in his soliloquy at Jenny’s gravesite, “I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time.”

I minored in Philosophy so I love this stuff. The soundtrack is good too and Forrest’s dedication to Jenny is inspiring.

The Godfather. I suppose just about any pre-90’s Coppola movie would do, but this one is one of my favorites. Puzo’s book is actually better than the movie. I read the book when I was about 12 years old before I saw the movie and always watch it when it comes on TV. Al Pacino wasn’t screaming randomly into the camera as a substitution for acting, Brando resurrected his career before burying it again, and Caan and Duval are both young and in their primes. Hell, even Talia Shire is good in this, proving that nepotism is not always a bad thing (she’s Coppola’s sister). Favorite line? “Leave the gun. Keep the cannolis.”

Trivia: My grandfather was a musician (among other things). His best friend was a guy named Angelo DiPippo. In the opening scene of the Godfather at Connie Corleone’s wedding, Angelo DiPippo can be seen in the wedding band in the gazebo playing the accordion. My grandfather loved to tell that story.

Streets of Fire. Streets of what?, you’re probably asking. 1984-ish movie and self-titled “Rock and Roll Fable” starring Diane Lane and Michael Pare with Rick Moranis, Amy Madigan (Ed Harris’ wife), Ed Begley, Jr., Willem DaFoe, Robert Townsend, Bill Paxton, Rick Rossavich (Slider in Top Gun), and the ugly sister from Too Close for Comfort. Why? I love the story. Good guy rescues beautiful ex-girlfriend he still loves from bad guy. The music is fantastic. Visually, the movie is incredibly well done, and despite Michael Pare’s awful acting, it works.

I’ve had a thing (a big thing) for Diane Lane since she played Cherry Valance in the Outsiders and Patty in Rumble Fish. She’s stunning in this movie and perfect for the role of the maiden in distress. The movie is a love story at heart and I’m a sucker for a good love story that isn’t The Notebook. Did I mention my fascination with Diane Lane? Rent it or buy it. It’s a great movie.

Trivia: When I was younger, I would routinely be told that I was a dead ringer for Michael Pare. Eddie and the Cruisers and Streets of Fire were out around the same time and I have to admit that I did look like him. However, I was and probably still am a better actor. Diane Lane went on to win an oscar. He want on to “star” in some movie about a giant killer Komodo dragon. My brother used to call me “Eddie” as in Eddie Wilson, Pare’s part in Eddie and the Cruisers to try and annoy me.

Favorite scene? When Tom gives Billy Fish back the money he paid him to rescue Ellen and she follows Tom out in the rain and they kiss. I challenge you to find a scene as good as that in The Notebook or its progeny. Second favorite scene is at the very end of the movie, but I won’t give it away.

Runners up: Saturday Night Fever, Rocky, A Few Good Men, Urban Cowboy, Hollywood Knights, Lonesome Dove

Books:

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. I know it’s an end run around a single book, but it really doesn’t get any better than Shakespeare. Favorite works? Romeo and Juliet, Othello, and Sonnet #2.

Lonesome Dove. Being from Texas, I have a special connection to this movie. Diane Lane is also in it. I won’t name drop, but I also have a good friend who had a major role in the movie and I love hearing stories about it. Anyone from Texas will tell you that this movie played continuously at least twice a year from its 1984-ish release through the current date. I grew up watching it. I love westerns and this is sort of an anti-western for a million reasons I won’t go into here.

Triva: When I was a freshman in college, I entered as a Marketing/Business major because I was always taught that a Liberal Arts degree was “worthless.” In my first semester we studied The Last Picture Show in my English class. My professor knew Larry McMurtury, the author of the book. He also wrote Lonesome Dove, Texasville, and Brokeback Mountain among a bunch of others. He came to my English class and spoke to us about writing. I sat there with about 15 other people in a small living room in a house on campus and listened to him speak. After leaving that room, I walked straight down to the Registrar’s office and changed my major to English. True Story.

The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Brilliant, funny, interesting, practical. The list could go on forever. Every person should read this in his/her lifetime.

People:

Abraham Lincoln, Diane Lane, and Chris Harrison.

Food:

Tex-Mex and Italian. Two of my biggest weaknesses. And of course, an unlimited supply of Lone Star Beer, the National Beer of Texas.

Musicians:

This is tough. I have tons of friends who are musicians and I’m a fan of just about everything. I appreciate good songwriting, good lyrics, simple melodies, good harmonies, passion, and the ability to communicate a succinct idea. I see the value of everything from classical to hip-hop and find the later to be just as creative as the former.

Willie Nelson. An Austin, Texas treasure. His songwriting is incredible and his ballads are some of the best ever written. Like Dylan, his voice is not the greatest, but there is simplicity of ideas and lyrics that I love. Everyone in Austin has an “I met Willie” story and they are all positive. He’s a wonderful man.

Favorites: “The First Thing I Needed The Last Thing This Morning,” “Funny How Time Slips Away,” “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground.” Download and listen.

Trivia: Willie wrote “Crazy,” which was recorded by Patsy Cline. Patsy Cline hated the song and refused to record it several times before finally giving in. It became her signature song and is regarded as one of the greatest country songs ever written. Funny how that happens, isn’t it?

U2. War, Rattle and Hum, and The Joshua Tree albums literally changed my life. Everyone has one of those kind of albums, I suppose.

Elvis Presley. If you disregard everything they play on the radio, you’ll get a feel for Elvis. My mother was (is) a huge Elvis fan and I have no memory as a child of anything other than Elvis playing in my house. Elvis was a true fan of music. He recorded thousands of songs spanning every genre imaginable. If it wasn’t for Elvis, I would have never discovered Frank Sinatra, the Beatles, Willie Nelson, Hank Williams, Simon and Garfunkel, or gospel music. Plus, it would be difficult to argue that he wasn’t one of a kind. Hell, I even like his movies.

Favorites: Elvis recorded a gospel album in 1956, the year he broke out, for his mother. That album is my favorite. His versions of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” and “Only Believe” are second to none.

Trivia: When I was in college, I frequented a karaoke bar where I became known as “The King” because I sang Elvis songs. I developed somewhat of a following and would routinely be recognized around town as “The King.” I’d sing every Tuesday and Friday night at that bar and when I got up to leave, the DJ would announce, “The King has left the building.” Those were great times in my life.

Runners Up: Ray LaMontagne, Dean Martin, Waylon Jennings, Emimem.

More Trivia: Ray LaMontagne worked in a shoe factory for years. He had to get up at 4am to go to work where he worked 11 hour days, 6 days a week. One morning he awoke to his alarm playing Stephen Stills’ song Treetop Flyer. After work that day, he went out and bought the album and after listening to it, quit his job to pursue music. To this day, he’s terrified to go up on stage and perform. When asked in a rare interview why he chooses to go on stage if he hates it so badly he responded, “if I didn’t have to I wouldn’t.” I love that story. It inspires me. I think it’s a shame that people I know don’t get it.

What DOES the P in DP stand for?

“Private.” Just kidding. Email me and I’ll tell you. I’m not paranoid, but I do have a day job that often involves people Googling my full name in search of dirt on me. I’m a attorney, believe it or not. I prefer to keep the blog separate from my “professional” life. If I ever find a way to do this full time, I’ll get it out there in a heart beat. I’ve corresponded with many of you via email. If you ask to “friend” me on Facebook, I usually say yes. Just don’t promise to guard and protect any part of my anatomy.

What got you started watching the Bachelor/Bachelorette and why'd you decide to start blogging about it? Do you actually like the show or do you watch it only for the comedic blogging possibilities?

Alright, that’s three questions, but I’ll answer. I have two close friends, Heather and Isobel, who are unbelievable die hard fans of the show. Frankly, they scare me. Isobel moved to Denver from Dallas and she and I stayed in touch. I met Heather through her. I found myself traveling to Denver a few times a month for business and each time I went I’d try to go to dinner or meet for a drink with Heather and Isobel. One Monday, I arrived in town and sent my usual “when and where for dinner/drinks” message. I was summarily rejected because the Bachelor premier was on. I ended up watching the show with them and when I returned home, I sent an email making fun of the show. That got circulated and eventually turned into a weekly email to Heather and Isobel making fun of the show. Heather suggested I begin a blog about it and Isobel jumped on board. The rest is history.

As far as liking the show, I’d have to say yes. I find it just as ridiculous as most of you do and I often get embarrassed for the people on it. I don’t think I could write about it like I do if I wasn’t a true fan. I don’t read spoilers or any other blogs prior to watching or writing. A lot of you know that Lincee Ray and I are friends. She and I read each other but only after we’ve posted. We talk often but never on a Monday. I like to experience the show as a fan and then write. I typically start watching on the DVR around 8pm and finish around 10:00pm. I let it sit for an hour or so and then write the blog from 11pm-2am. I polish it up over lunch in my office and post it. That formula is one reason I think the blog works. I love meeting and talking to people and hearing what makes them tick and that curiosity is a big reason I watch the show. I find the premise and its results interesting. Plus, it’s fun to watch just to see what will happen. In short, I like the show just like you do. I just happen to write about it.

What would make more of these couples fall in love and stay together? Fantasy dates earlier in the season? Really crappy dates all season?

Wow, absent a doctorate in human behavior, I can’t adequately answer this one. The bottom line is that I do believe in love at first site—or something like it. You either click or you don’t, right? However, I also believe that even though love is often found when not expected, it has to grow over time and a relationship has to grow out of that love. Most people confuse love for the relationship when, in fact, love has nothing to do with the dynamic of the relationship. We’ve all seen two people desperately in love with one another that can’t get along. Diabetics can love sugar all day, but having a relationship with it can kill them.

With that said, I think the problem is that the show presumes a result: love and marriage. Just because two people can walk a tightrope over a gorge together and have fun doesn’t mean they’re compatible. Anyone can develop real feelings in a vacuum; especially when they have 20 hours of downtime in a giant mansion with a bunch of people they don’t like all day. Wouldn’t you be glad to get out of there for a few hours and sit under the Hollywood sign or race sports cars with an attractive member of the opposite sex?

In order to see if a relationship will work, I think real alone time is required, but that would bore the viewers to death if the show was all about that part of a relationship. The Fantasy Suite is a big part of the chemistry in the equation too, but all of us know that real love is something that has to develop beyond that chemistry. I think the attraction the contestants feel is sincere. I just think the real test starts when the cameras are off and that usually entails a few months before they figure out they hate each other. Just ask Jason or Jillian. Oh, and yes, I know that Ryan and Trista are married with children.

How DO you have such a female-sensitive brain? Who trained you? It's uncanny -- and we want answers!

This is another question I get all the time. The short answer is “I don’t know.” I have many faults but one gift I was given was the ability to read people and read people well, especially women. I suppose it’s like singing or knowing how to draw. You’re either born with it or you’re not. Through none of my own doing, I was also blessed by dating two girls early in my life who were kind, sensitive, caring people who genuinely loved me. They both taught me a lot about what makes women tick. I was always a sensitive, curious, empathetic kid. I listen, observe, and pay close attention to detail. I have an uncanny ability to put myself in other people’s shoes. I suppose that makes it into the blog. Also, I’ve always had a lot of female friends and I guess I picked up a lot from them over the years. I find that my personality lends itself to making people feel comfortable around me. I’m usually the guy who gets the “can I talk to you about something” phone call. For some reason, people feel content to open up to me. Again, I can’t explain that. It just is.

Trivia: When I was a young kid, my mother used to call me “The Mayor” because wherever she took me, someone knew me and would approach me. “Who is that?” my mom would ask. “Oh, that’s so and so’s mother. She owns the local whatever.” My mother used to say that taking me out in public was like watching someone run for office because I talked to everyone and everyone seemed to “know” me. Thus, the nickname. Not a lot has changed since then. I love meeting and talking to people. Again, I suppose that familiarity comes across in the blog.

What's your idea of a great first date?

A helicopter ride over an Icelandic volcano followed by drinks and snacks in an ice cave. Alright, not really. This question gets the first “it depends” answer of the blog. Here’s what I consider before planning a first date and here are a few rules I stick to. I’m assuming I’ve met the person or talked to her on the phone before. Blind dates scare the hell out of me.

It’s important to pick a place where I can focus on her. Trendy or noisy doesn’t work for me. I want to talk, get to know her, and gather as much information as I can. That way, if there’s a second date, I can hit a home run. Listening is important in any situation, but people volunteer a lot more than they think they do, especially in first time situations and especially if you pay attention. Every woman knows that having a man remember tiny details is something they find endearing. Any guy can send a dozen roses sprinkled with baby’s breath in a fancy vase. All that takes is a phone call. But the guy who pays enough attention to send a dozen of your favorite flowers is the guy who scores points. If I’m wrong, please let me know.

I prefer quaint, public places as opposed to doing something weird like cooking her dinner at my house. Low key places are good, isolated places are uncomfortable for a first date. That’s nice, but it’s not first date material. It’s a bit creepy. Drinks are a good start. You can tell a lot from a first drink order. Trust me. Also, it’s important for me to see how she treats other people. Dave Barry once said, “someone who is nice to you but mean to the waiter is not a nice person.” I believe that and the small, subconscious things a woman does are far more telling than anything else.

Casual, casual, casual. Why? Anyone can get more dressed up than a sore finger and plan an expensive evening. If a date is casual, I think a person is more likely to be herself. I get to see what she’s comfortable wearing as opposed to the fifth thing she tried on and still doesn’t feel right wearing. Also, there’s less pressure to “perform.” I think a casual night sends a message that I like things to be about the two of us and not how much I can impress her with money. Believe me, throwing money around early ALWAYS leads to problems. I save the fancy date for later. Frankly, if a girl I ask out doesn’t appreciate a casual date, that’s not someone I’d want to take out on the town anyway. Yes, I do believe there’s such a thing as TOO casual. I’m thinking a booth at a neighborhood bar where they serve appetizers and the waitress is friendly. I’m not thinking ice house on the freeway with a 50 year old braless waitress with a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail tray in the other. I prefer to go to those places by myself.

Open ended. I like to start with an idea like dinner and/or drinks and then present a couple of options to my date. Would you like to get dessert, coffee, shoot pool, go bowling, go to a piano bar, see a band, etc. That way, she gets to choose and we get to be spontaneous—in a sort of controlled way. The ability to be spontaneous is a must have for me and putting a decision in her hands is a good way for me to gauge that quality.

Also, if I can’t stand her, I can pick the thing I think will make her lose my phone number. I think “being a man” and taking control by planning something is important, but it’s also nice to give her ownership in at least part of the evening. I think women appreciate being treated like an equal. Again, if a woman I’m with can’t tell me what she likes to do, I can’t read her mind. Giving her options lets me see if she can do that. It also helps weed out the control freaks and high maintenance women who have to have it their way.

Listen, listen, listen. I try to regale her with funny stories, but it’s important to ask as many questions as I answer and let her tell me about herself. It’s also a good way to ferret out the crazy ones. I’m a firm believer that a person should be able to answer the following questions immediately: What’s your favorite joke? What’s your favorite flower? What’s your favorite movie?

So, DP’s dating principles. Let’s review. Simple, intimate, quiet, public, casual place with the intent on heading somewhere later. Give her options and let her make the choice. Talk, but listen, and learn. By the way, I think a movie, play, or concert are awful first date options. If I want to sit in silence and watch something, I’ll stay home.

What is one (specific) thing about women that just puzzles the crap out of you?

Wow, I’m sure there are many qualities I could name that both men and women share, but I’ll stick to a couple that I view as more female. I think many women—no matter what stage of the relationship they are in—tend to have a much longer memory than men for the negative stuff. Men get mad, vent, and then let things go. Women tend to hang on to bad stuff a man has done and remind him of it in later disagreements. I think that’s unfair and it’s certainly not constructive. People make mistakes from time to time. The vast majority of those mistakes are just that—mistakes—and should simply be forgiven once a sincere apology is made. Reminding him that he was late for Valentine’s dinner three years ago serves no purpose. I think people waste a lot of time in relationships competing for the upper hand rather than experiencing each other. I like to keep things simple. That requires an open, forgiving heart on both sides of the equation. It puzzles me why more women can’t simply let things go.

I also can’t figure out why a woman “won’t” do something in certain situations. Example: If I went to a bar that didn’t serve Lone Star beer, I’d find another drink. I might not love it, but I’d figure it out. I wouldn’t leave the bar or let that ruin my evening. I think it’s nice to have familiarity and predictability from day to day, but it’s essential to be spontaneous. Some people just need to relax.

Bonus tip for women: Men are no less supportive of monogamy, commitment, or even marriage than women are. Men just don’t like to be told by a woman when all of those are going to happen.

Complete the sentence: It is really unattractive when a woman _______.

Doesn’t like me. Just kidding. Smokes, is jealous, has unreasonable body/appearance issues, or no capacity to be spontaneous. There are other “deal breakers” for me, but these are the biggies. I have a very short “must have” list, but the must haves are all non-negotiable. I’m pretty easy going with the rest of the equation.

What sets you apart from other guys? (...um, besides the fact that you're awesome and you blog about the Bachelor/ette.)

Uh, I’m awesome and blog about the Bachelorette. Beyond that, I’m no better or worse than any other guy you might meet in a bar, on Match.com, or in a pumpkin patch—depending upon the season, of course. Women who I’ve dated in the past tell me that I’m a bit easy on the eyes, I make them laugh, I’m never boring, and that I have a way of making them feel safe. I suppose I can see all but the last one. Attraction is a strange thing. I will say that the ability to make people laugh is something I figured out I could do from a very early age and I think women appreciate someone who can do that.

However, I’d propose that perhaps the fact that I don’t see myself as being any better or any worse than any other guy is something important that might set me apart. I’m always myself. Some people like that. Some don’t. I’m ok with that.

What is the coolest part about blogging on a topic predominately read by women?

I love the emails and comments I get wondering how I come up with this stuff. I have several readers who religiously send me their “favorite lines” emails every Tuesday and a couple of friends who call me and tell me what made them laugh. It always amazes me that some of the lines I consider throw away lines end up making it into the comments while the ones I think will kill simply don’t get mentioned. I’m a fan of the readers just like the readers are a fan of the blog. It’s really fun.

On a selfish note, I always find it hysterically funny when husbands or boyfriends give me a really hard time for writing the blog and/or watching the show. My sexuality is questioned, my manhood challenged, and my name defamed. What’s funny about that? Well, two things. The blog is all they hear about from their girlfriend or wife when I’m not there and when I am, I’m the one surrounded by wives and girlfriends while the husbands/boyfriends sulk in the corner. Few men read the blog, but those who do appreciate it. Again, it’s fun for me and that’s why I do it. I don’t worry about it making me seem “gay” or “stupid” or whatever.

Trivia: I have one male reader who sends me a litany of an email every week with his deeply philosophical take on the season. It’s really interesting. The best part is that he once thanked me for writing the blog because he and his wife began eating breakfast together every Wednesday morning in order to take turns reading the blog to each other. He thanked me for helping his marriage. I like that story. That’s a nice feeling.

When you break up with girls, are you usually the break upper or the break-upee?

I’d have to call this one a draw although I’ve stayed in really bad, really destructive relationships in the past for no reason other than I was scared to be alone. I’ve since conquered that fear. I’ve been in many long term relationships. I enjoy the security and familiarity of them. I’ve grown a lot as a result of those relationships and I’m perfectly happy outside of a relationship. It took a long time to be content with who I am as a person rather than depending on someone else for validation. I have many faults, but generally, I’m now happy with who I am as a person.

Trivia: I once took a college girlfriend that I’d dated for two years to a romantic spot above Lake Austin after dinner. I told her that I loved her and asked her if she’d ever thought about marrying me. She replied, “I don’t love you anymore and I’ve cheated on you six times.” How ‘bout them apples?

Have you ever told a girl when you break up with her that it's not her it's you?

No, but I think when any break up happens there’s some truth to that statement. It’s always about the person who is doing the breaking up. The hardest part about being broken up with is facing the reality that a person simply doesn’t want to be with you. If you’re secure in who you are, it’s easier. Still, no one likes to hear he’s not wanted.

Have any of your ex-girlfriends ever told you that you have commitment issues, or phobias?

None whatsoever. I love the security, friendship, and familiarity of a relationship. I’m just as happy in a healthy relationship as I am single. I have no issue with monogamy or marriage in any sense. I think I understand and appreciate relationships. Healthy relationships of any kind (friend, spouse, gf, bf, employee) make both parties better people. I think that understanding shows in the blog.

Do you live at home with your parents?

No, but I plan to move back in with them after I “move” overseas for six weeks and write a screenplay. I haven’t lived with my parents since I left home for college. They live just North of Austin. That’s close enough.

If you were one of the final two guys, would it gross you out to see your "girlfriend" all over the other guys?

Only if I was the second guy on the Fantasy Suite date. I suppose—ironically—reality has to be suspended in that situation in order to deal with the fact that it’s go time for both guys on the date. I will say that jealousy is a deal breaker for me. I think it’s a waste of time to believe that you can control another person. Trying to control your significant other by putting “rules” in place to keep her faithful is ridiculous. It’s also ridiculous to get mad at a significant other for the behavior of third parties. I had a friend punch a guy once because he looked at his girlfriend. The best a person can do is control himself and treat his significant other with honesty and respect. I can’t force a person to feel a certain way about me. I can’t control a person. Trying to do that does two things: It isolates the other person and it drives the controller crazy.

Remember when your parents caught you smoking/drinking/talking to the seedy kid from across the tracks for the first time? They clamped down and forbid you to smoke/drink/talk to the seedy kid from across the tracks, etc. All that did was make you figure out a way to hide it better. It’s like the Tax Code. They can pass any tax law and close any loophole but people will always figure out how to cheat on their taxes. It’s the same with infidelity. It’s useless to worry about that. The best you can do is the best you can do. If that’s not enough for another person, the relationship should end.


Well, there it is. My best shot at answering the reader’s questions. Again, I realize this isn’t as punchy as my recaps, but a change is nice sometimes. I wanted to give you an idea who Some Guy in Austin really is. I’d love to get your thoughts and feedback either in the comment section below or via email. Thank you, as always, for reading and playing along. Until next week’s big finale, take care. If you need me, I’ll be washing the sheets from my Fantasy Suite. DP

Ali Bachelorette Episode 10: The Men Tell All

Alright, here we are, the Men Tell All Episode on the eve of finding out who, if anyone, Ali will choose to be her potential future possible husband maybe one day. These episodes are hard to blog about because they contain so much canned footage and inane banter. I’ll do my best. Two things first.

I’m still taking late submissions for the DP Tells All Special Blog Entry. I have a bunch of questions from the comments and via email, but I’ll still entertain any suggestions you may have. I’ll post my answers on Thursday afternoon. Second, I was privileged enough to meet the great Lincee Ray of www.ihategreenbeans.com fame this weekend. Despite some poor planning and some semi-chach-ness on my part, we had a great time. I’ll include details at the end of this entry. Suffice it to say that she couldn’t have been any more lovely, more gracious, or more fun. She’s the real deal. I realize that many of you read her blog as well and are interested in the outcome. It was no SALT I or Yalta Conference, but it was interesting. In the meantime, let’s get to it.

We begin at the Top Secret Bachelorette Studio undoubtedly tucked safely away from the glaring lights of Los Angeles and nestled like the Bat Cave in a place that only Harrison knows about. The soft blue and red lighting and abundance of candles highlight the empty chairs which sit innocuously on the stage awaiting His Eminence Chris Harrison’s arrival in order for everyone to tell all. The party doesn’t start until Harrison says it does and we can’t wait for him to say it does.

The audience, fresh off three complimentary glasses of wine and light hors d’oeuvres in the Hospitality Tent, sits anxiously. Yes, they all know they’re privileged to be there and they’ve all taken the time to get their nails done and their hair did and gussy it up just in case Harrison decides to score. We can hear the wheels turning inside their heads.

“Who knows? Maybe the producers and Chris Harrison will notice me and skip the entire interview process in order to make ME the next Bachelorette. After all, people like me get discovered every day and I would make a perfect Bachelorette because I’m totally funny, pretty, outgoing, and I know a girl who was on the show once but didn’t get picked at the first cocktail party because she didn’t say enough to the Bachelor and wouldn’t sleep with one of the key grips or stage hands or whatever, so I know really well how to handle that situation and make it past that first night. I’m not saying I’d sleep with someone or anything but I might give out my phone number. I’m also really interesting and fun, you know, like Jillian, and even though I really like Ali and she’s really sweet and all, I am a much better dresser than she is and I don’t say “like” all of the time. I know it’s important to have a signature color like Ali, and I’d be open to any suggestions. I mean I’ve been told I look good in purple but I’m not sure. Anyway, I totally know what I’d wear to the cocktail party, the rose ceremonies, and the one-on-one dates already so ABC could save a ton of money if they chose me because I totally would not need a wardrobe consultant but I would be open to one—you know, for accessories and stuff that looks really cute on camera because it goes with my skin tone or makes my eyes pop—if ABC really wanted me to have one. I also don’t have hair extensions or problems with food even though I totally like Ali and want to see her do well, I’m just saying that I don’t have those problems and my ass also looks really cute in skinny jeans and after five dresses. I also look really cute and sympathetic when I cry and I would totally not be afraid to wear a bikini in front of the camera. This woman who works at my mom’s office told my mom once after seeing just ONE picture of me in my mom’s cubicle that I should totally be the next Bachelorette which is really weird because that picture was taken before my highlights and after I’d been accidentally sunburned at my tanning salon because all of the upgraded beds were full and I had to use one of the bad beds because I had a date that night and I didn’t have time to wait so just think of how my headshots would look now….NOTICE ME, CHRIS HARRISON! NOTICE ME!”

Harrison emerges to an earth shaking round of applause as the pimps, prostitutes, and drug addicts outside of the otherwise abandoned warehouse on the East side of L.A. wonder what’s going on inside the building. He’s decked out in his tailored black host suit accented with a soft violet (or was it mauve?) oxford shirt and dark tie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he envisions the extra zeros in front of the decimal on his bi-weekly paycheck. The kids are getting a new playscape this year and Daddy is gonna take big fat vacation when this one is over. He’s Money and he knows it. Good for him.

Romance, love, betrayal, and heartbreak are this season’s talking points and we begin to realize that Frank and Justin are in for a bashing. Harrison tees up the evening with “journey” references and the women squeal with joy when he mentions Roberto and Chris L. We cut to the big video screen as the lights are dimmed and Harrison heads back stage for a make up touch up and a stiff cocktail.

We see Ali sitting down in the Lair of Seclusion with Harrison. She looks lovely in her black sequined cocktail dress, matching headband, and costume jewelry. She appears well rested after her trip from Tahiti and we assume that she’s shaken off the jetlag from the long flight and the yeast infection from the Fantasy Suite dates (that’s just as funny as the cranberry juice joke and you know it). Harrison begins with some “journey” references and Ali gives a shout out to the fine people at McNeil Pharmaceuticals for the complimentary supply of Monistat as she assists Harrison in setting up the rest of the show.

Incidentally, I was unsure about the spelling of Monistat and in a rare departure from my regular practice of stream of consciousness writing, I Googled it just to be sure. The website I went on referenced “drinking curds on a daily basis” as an effective, non-medical way to ward off chronic yeast infections. I found it comforting to know that Little Miss Muffet was yeast free. She had enough problems with that damn spider that sat down beside her. Imagine trying to deal with that on top of a yeast infection. I failed to find, “don’t sleep with multiple men on back-to-back nights in a humid, unairconditioned, fantasy suite in Tahiti” but, to be fair, I only skimmed the text on the site.

Annnnyyyyhooooo. . .

Ali and Harrison rehash Justin’s bad deeds and we see a much thinner than Tahiti Ali busting Justin’s balls for trying to be famous rather than searching for love. She’s there for “all women and girls hurt by a man before.” After all, men are dirtbags—well, not the two men she slept with on back-to-back nights in Tahiti, but pretty much all of the rest of them. For a second there, it sounded like her heart needed to be guarded and protected. Speaking of that, they rehash Krasey’s whack job behavior as we are forced to relive the “guard and protect” nonsense and that ridiculous tattoo he got. Harrison and Ali literally fight back laughter and Ali is relieved to be safe in the confines of the studio rather than alone in an ice cavern with Krasey. We are reminded of Kirk’s scrapbook—a lot of good that did—and relive Ali getting dumped on her ass in Tahiti by Frank. She had on high heels and high expectations. Sadly, Frank just had high blood pressure.

Ali tells us that she had “distinct instincts” about what to do and she’s confident she’s made the right decision. By the way, I have all of the Distinct Instincts’ albums. Fascinating, inventive stuff, especially the earlier work.

We then cut to unseen scenes—another potential band name—as we see adorable outtakes of Roberto almost take Ali’s eye out with a champagne cork, Frank’s weird family play a rambling toast joke on Ali in their no curtained house, and we relive one of Ali’s silly little alcoholic black outs as she literally has to be shown footage of her drunk ass putting on an astronaut helmet on her museum date with Krasey. She giggles uncontrollably as we all ignore the big, drunk, 300 pound alcoholic gorilla in the room.

We see Roberto and Ali harangued by peacocks and get a shot of the Weatherman wishing he was being harangued by peacocks. We see Chris N.’s disappearing act and learn why he earned the nickname “The Phantom.” After the break, Harrison introduces Jesse and his white power haircut, Hunter and his ears, Kyle and his giant choker necklace thing, Tyler V., Craig R., John C., Derrick, Jason, Steve, Chris N., Kirk, Weatherman, Krasey, and Ty. We’re reminded that Frank couldn’t cover his Assistant to the Assistant Manager shift at Abercrombie this week, but are assured that he’s signed the vacation book well in advance and should be able to attend next week’s show in order to be jeered at and judged by everyone. Proving that he’s not a complete idiot, we learn that Justin decided not to show up. He must have talked to Roz Papa.

Of course, Craig R. opens his fat mouth first. He had no idea what he was getting into he tells us, but he’s happy to whine about it. Krasey tells us that the first night was “intense” and the Weatherman refers to Ali as “mystical.” The jacket he was wearing was mystical too---mystically gay. Chris N. finally emerges from his shell and we’re happy to know that he found the wet bar in the green room. Looking more tan than George Hamilton, Chris N. displays his “Phantom” t-shirt as Harrison gleefully looks on.

The next five minutes of this show were unwatchable for me. It essentially involved all of the alpha male jockeying going on in the house. We saw McCheesy Craig trying to out macho everyone in the house, the poor gay Weatherman being picked on, and we had to endure the kind of chest beating and mating season behavior that makes men look like fools. Granted, everyone probably had a blood alcohol content higher than the show’s ratings, but it was still ridiculous to watch. Back in the studio, John C. and his magician’s vest call out the Weatherman, Jesse confirms that he wanted to punch McCheesey in the kitchen, we learn that Krasey is indeed crazy. Kyle takes time away from Outdoorsmaning and tries to out choker necklace Ty, and Chris N. continues to perpetuate the redundant expressions spawned by Roberto’s “reciprocated back” line last week as he tells us that Justin was only on the show to “self promote himself.” What a stupid idiot. I figured I’d continue the redundancy trend.

We next cut to the first pariah of the show, Frank. We relive his Mad Men suits, wooing of Ali, and his eventually reconciliation with Nicole before dumping Ali like yesterday’s trash on the beaches of Tahiti. Harrison fights back a smile and manages a “Man, that’s tough to watch.” Craig R., who is apparently an authority on just about everything, sticks up for Frank, as do Ty and Hunter proving that Frank has a mesmerizing effect on guys with big ears. Krasey isn’t buying it, though, as he shakes his head in disbelief before joining Harrison in the hot seat in an attempt to soften his image and shake off some of the crazy.

Krasey hits the hot seat as we see him being left on the glacier like Dennis Quaid in that subpar what if the world froze movie. We see him singing again and realize for a second time how bizarre he is. Harrison rubs gallons of salt in his wounds and Krasey proves that his PR folks know what they’re doing as he simply owns the behavior and declares that even though Ali wasn’t into it, there are girls out there who would dig it. Sadly, Krasey doesn’t realize that the girls out there who would dig it are all wards of their respective states where they sit quietly in wreck rooms across the country sipping apple juice from a plastic cup with a thin paper straw while coloring and listening to subtle classical background music during “creative time.” Illustrating that that denial is tougher to shake than a fantasy suite yeast infection, Krasey actually says he respects Ali for being honest with him and letting him go. Dude, she was terrified of you. I actually thought he did a good job saving some face considering the cards he played all season. The guys seemed to back him up as well. Regardless, he’s still nuts.

We next cut to the heartbroken Kirk. Insert collective “awww” here. We rehash his courtship with Ali, his struggle with mold sickness, and his battle with matching sweaters. In addition to his party on the left Livestrong bracelet and his all business on the right gold bracelet, Kirk gives a secret shout out to Frank by sporting a silver thumb ring. Odd. Kirk scores points with all of the desperate women who finally realize that Harrison is not going to notice them in the audience as he fights back tears to tell Harrison that Ali has indeed broken his poor post-mold infested heart. Sounding crazier than Krasey—if that’s possible—Kirk tells us that one of the side effects of mold sickness is an acute inability to exist in a committed relationship. What? Realizing that we’re all sick of the mold thing, Harrison abruptly thanks Kirk for “inspiring us” and kicks him out of the hot seat. We’ve got some Justin to bash and this mold made me sick crap isn’t as interesting. The only thing Kirk inspired me to do was hit pause and grab another beer.

After a commercial break we return to Harrison who—with the help of an entire network—is ready to put Justin in his place once and for all. We begin with Craig R. watching himself whine on the big screen about what a douche Justin is for being a wrestler for the wrong reasons. We see Harrison making the phone call to his inside source and Ali pretending like she cares. We see Justin fleeing through the landscaping as his voice mails are played as evidence of his misdeeds. Dude, don’t mess with ABC. The crowd grumbles as—surprise—Craig R. characterizes Justin as “evil.” Evil? Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, Pol Pot, and Tim McVeigh were evil. Justin is just a putz. “A clever man commits no minor blunders,” said Goethe. Unfortunately, for Justin, he proved to be not so clever. Luckily for Justin, Goethe also said, “all things are only transitory.” He did himself a favor by not showing up for the lambasting. All he needs to do is start over away from the camera. Lesson learned. Oh, and speaking of Goethe, perhaps Justin should have read Faust before coming on the show. Selling your soul to the devil in exchange for anything always ends badly. He did set himself up for a big fall off the top rope. Unfortunately for Justin, this fall is not fake.

Showing us he’s not afraid to beat a dead wrestler, Harrison eggs on Craig R. who is more than happy to open his pie hole again. He sucks up to Harrison, ABC, and the show’s producers and we envision him clicking on the “Careers” icon on the ABC website in order to apply for a job in the Legal Department. Could he have been more complimentary of the show? He made Harrison look like Wes Hayden for God’s sake. We cut to a shot of the Weatherman wishing Craig R. would suck up to him. In a delusional rant, Craig R. addresses “everything that’s been written about him” concerning Justin. Whatever, dude. Go back to Philadelphia and stuff a cheese steak in your mouth. I’m tired of hearing from you. You were a losing contestant on a game show. Period. Your former high school newspaper doesn’t count as press.

As if the prior segments weren’t enough, Harrison follows the lessons the show learned by not burying Wes Hayden and Roz Papa in solid proof by calling “special guest” Jessie—some broad that Jake dumped early on—to speak to the unspeakable acts of Justin. We pictured Justin and his remaining friend sitting on a cooch somewhere in Canada downing some Molson Golden beers and wondering aboot how he could have let this situation get so oot of control.

A camera-seeking Jessie emerges and anxiously tells the story of how she burst the Justin story wide open after getting an email from a “fan” of hers aboot Justin’s stepping oot on Ali and having two girlfriends. Oh, the humanity. Yes, she tells us, she felt compelled to come forward and seek the truth because “it was important” for Ali to know the truth. Oh, and it would ensure her a spot on The Bachelor Pad and an extension of her 15 minutes of second class fame, but that’s neither here nor there. Harrison manages a “poor thing” and then steps into the audience so a couple people can pile on. Some lady gets in a jab or two and some other chick propositions Craig R. proving that there’s someone out there for everyone. Craig R. challenges Justin to an olive oil match. I rolled my eyes and regretted opting for a six pack of Lone Star rather than a 12 pack.

FINALLY, Ali enters the studio. Wearing a silver sparkly Tina Turner dress with carefully planned accessories and her extensions messily stapled to the back of her head, she actually looked like she’d taken off some of the wooing weight. She giggles, “great guys” the guys, and endures a painful to watch “song” from Krasey. We learn that Roberto’s junk hurt in his harness, Chris L. is funnier than he’s been edited to be, and Harrison fell for the old replace the ubiquitous champagne glass with a plastic glass trick. Finally, we get a quick preview of The Bachelor Pad. I’ll save comments until I blog about it.

In other news, I met Lincee Ray, who happened to be in Austin to see some friends. Lincee emerged from her friend’s house looking stunning in a green cotton dress and boots. We were, after all, going dancing at my favorite honky tonk, and boots were required attire. I, of course, sported a pearl snap. We had dinner at Hill’s Café and Lincee carefully inspected the stage where Wes Hayden wooed Jillian with that stupid song. I downloaded it prior to Lincee’s visit and annoyed her with it in the car on the way to dinner. We next moved to my favorite honky tonk where we met some friends and danced. Unfortunately, the place was packed because it was a summertime Saturday and we shared only one dance—it was a waltz. Poor planning on my part. I take full responsibility. We next went to a local blues bar to see my brother-in-law’s band play. I set up two celebrity introductions for Lincee. The first was of a well-known actor, writer, director, producer, Hollywood type who resides in Austin and happens to hang out where I do. My sister knows him too and she invited him to the show. The second was the drummer for Wes Hayden’s band. The look on Lincee’s face when I introduced him was priceless. They shared some words, but I kept my distance. All in all, I have to admit that I disappointed Lincee Ray. I made the cardinal mistake of trying to fit too much into one night. If it wasn’t for playing The Thong Song in the car on the way to the bar and my sister’s friend, Really Gay Phil, taking Lincee to the dance floor, the night might have been a bust. All in all, it was wonderful to finally meet her face-to-face after corresponding with her all of this time. I’ll leave you—the readers—and her with the promise that I’ll do a better job of planning the next time she makes it to town. I was a fan of her blog and now I’m a fan of hers. Like I said, she’s the real deal.

Well, there it is. With the Amazing Count at 164, we head into the final episode where only Chris L. and Roberto remain standing in the quest for Ali’s heart. Next week looks interesting as we get to meet Ali’s family in Tahiti and see her introduce both dudes to her family. Dad looked none too pleased with either one of them, but we’ll see what happens. Look for my DP Tells All post this Thursday. Until then, if you need me, I’ll be practicing my fake wrestling moves. DP

Ali Bachelorette Episode 9: Frank Tanks

It’s Episode 9 and I’m three weeks closer to being relegated to writing about the Bachelor Pad. In the meantime, I choose to savor each moment of The Bachelorette like each sip from a bottle of cold Lone Star beer or each simple, elegant note from a Willie Nelson ballad like “The Last Thing I Needed the First Thing this Morning.” Besides, y’all love to read this stuff and I enjoy envisioning you each taking time out of an otherwise productive work day to read this and snicker quietly in your cubicles, offices, or break rooms. Let’s get to it.

We begin this week with an L.A. sunrise and Ali’s voiceover letting us know that Tahiti—our next destination—is the “perfect place to fall in love.” Oddly enough, so were San Francisco, New York, Iceland, Turkey, Portugal, every passenger compartment in every helicopter ever rented this season, and the area immediately below the Hollywood sign. Regardless, Ali is excited.

We cut to Chris L. in his Garanimals knit striped collared shirt and cargo shorts doing some heavy thinking amongst the palms. We get a recap of his “journey” toward finding love, are reminded again that his mother passed away, and remember that he gave Ali the Dennis bracelet. He’s ready to open up to Ali he tells us as we see him stuffing his unironed clothes into his Dora the Explorer big boy suit case and leaving the hotel in search of his monkey, Boots, and a Spanish speaking squirrel with a driver’s license to get him to his bungalow in Tahiti.

We move to Roberto and his dimples and continue our formula. Roberto relives his “journey” with Ali and we see his Livestrong bracelet wooing her right along with his dimples and cleft chin. The producers—aware of last week’s focus group comments—give us a parting shot of Roberto in his baseball uniform as he recalls his spontaneous street dancing and packs his stuff into his big red suitcase. He carefully places his Lion King CD atop his pheromone soaked t-shirts and fondly remembers the ingenious c*ck block he laid down on all of the men when he sang directly to Ali and won a part as a scantily clad pornographic extra in the Broadway production of the play. Ahh, memories . . . or is it mammaries? Semantics aside, Roberto is anxious to win Ali’s heart now that there is no longer any psycho waiting around to guard and protect it.

We next turn to Frank (insert collective frown here) in his bad guy black sweater and matching black and gray plaid oxford delightfully accented with his embroidered chick jeans. He might be the bad guy this week, but damn it, he’s going to look stylish doing it. Not surprisingly, we see Frank meticulously packing his Mad Men and undertaker suits into his wrinkle free bag in hopes that they emerge as crisp and lintless as when he put them there. He sees Ali as fun, romantic, and sexy but lets us know that he’s—SURPRISE—an emotional wreck because of his rediscovered feelings for his ex, Nicole. I’m surprised Jake didn’t reemerge in his pilot’s uniform in order to tell Ali at this point. I assume he’s busy boxing up Vienna’s bean bag chair, EZ Bake Oven, and frantically dialing the cell phone in the hopes that his former agent picks up the phone. Frank tells us that he needs a detour to Chicago in order to pick up his allowance at his folk’s place and talk it out with Nicole. We assume he begs Harrison to do him a solid and spring for a ticket.

Frank arrives in Chicago but doesn’t go to his parent’s house to change. Instead, he wanders the streets of the Windy City in search of Nicole. He tells us that he’s nervous and unsure of himself. Don’t worry Frank, I thought. You were nervous and unsure about being an accountant and weren’t sure if you wanted to be a screenwriter until you failed at both, quit, and moved back in with your parents. That seemed to work out fine . . .I guess.

Frank lies and tells us that he hasn’t talked to Nicole in months and we pray that she’s been contacted by the show’s producers in order to provide a current address and complete the proper pre-interview process in addition to signing the appropriate release paperwork so that Frank can “find” her and make out with her on camera. Frank crosses the same intersection several times (nice editing) and tells us that he’s nervous twice as many times as he crossed the intersection. Frank is eventually given the mysterious address and he “surprises” Nicole in what appeared to be her dorm room at the University of Indecisiveness. Apparently, she’s wrapping up her undergrad work there. She met Frank while he was a Research Assistant working on his Ph.D.

Nicole answers the door in—you guessed it—a canary yellow shirt proving she’s in on it. She does a poor job of pretending to be surprised. “Can I talk to you?” Frank asks. Yes? “Can I bring an entire camera crew into your dorm room?” He follows. Nicole says yes and scurries inside to hide her skull bong and weed stash before grabbing a seat on the colorless couch in her colorless room in order to hear Frank profess his indecisiveness in front of America. To be fair, she and Frank were probably indecisive about the color scheme and opted for a neutral look. After a series of unedited silences and a close up of Nicole’s prodigious proboscis, Frank finally gets to the point. Ali is cool…blah, blah, blah…he had a good time…blah, blah, blah…but he loves Nicole and wants to be with her. I couldn’t help but wonder if this relationship was the product of some odd arranged marriage propagated by Frank’s family in an effort to confirm his heterosexuality. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept, an arranged marriage is where your parents force you to marry a crazy woman that they like instead of letting you find a crazy one that you like on your own. My worries aside, what’s her face appeared touched.

After a pause for more dramatic silence, Nicole tells Frank that since his departure for reality fame, she’s been “consumed with him every day” and we all hoped that Frank doesn’t own a pet bunny and a large boiling pot. Check that. We all hoped that Frank’s parents don’t own a pet bunny and a large boiling pot. It’s been “sickening” and “heartbreaking” to know he’s been traveling the world with 25 other dudes trying to get in Ali’s pants. After all, Nicole still digs him. She gets him. Hell, she helped him pick out his jeans. After seeing that she’s just as wishy washy as Frank, I actually saw their “amazing connection” and understood what Frank was getting at. He struck me as honest and sincere. More about that later. Nicole, proving she’s just as vapid as Ali, actually drops the “you complete me” line on Frank and they kiss. Apparently, she sat around watching Jerry McGuire in anticipation of Frank’s arrival. Ironically, Frank and Nicole found love on the show. I know, I know, so did Ryan and Trista. Please.

Proving that he’s not a complete idiot, after Nicole tells him to “come home” Frank tells her that he’s happy to do so . . . right after he takes his free trip to Tahiti. Oh, he’s scared, he tells her, but f*ck it, he’s going anyway. Oh, and by the way Nicole, clear out some closet space and a small shelf in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Frank needs a place to live when he gets back. Nice job, Frank. Nice job. At least he told her the truth. Then again, “betrayal is the only truth that sticks,” Arthur Miller once wrote. We can’t wait to see how Ali takes the news.

We cut directly to an unsuspecting Ali arriving via speedboat like Sonny Crockett to a Miami drug bust. Tahiti is “magical” she tells us, just like San Francisco, L.A., New York, Iceland, Turkey, Portugal, every passenger compartment in every helicopter ever rented this season, and the area immediately below the Hollywood sign. Sporting a pink tank top and some very hippy white linen pants, Ali seems excited.

In a very Tarkovsky-esque montage we see memorable images of Tahiti’s exceptional beauty, running water accompanied by fire, rain clouds, reflections, and long panoramic shots of this week’s paradise and wonder how many of Marlon Brando’s illegitimate children inhabit the island. I was reminded of Melville’s novel about the South Pacific named Omoo, not because I’m smart or anything but because a college professor I had once lived in Tahiti and worked it into her curriculum in lieu of ol’ Herman’s better works. While most people were reading Moby Dick, I was busy indulging her unresolved loss of youth and her unrelenting lamentation of a passionate, yet fleeting fling with a local Polynesian boy by being forced to read an inferior novel. Sigh….I should have taken the 9am class instead of opting for the much easier to attend 11:30am. I digress.

In a moment of foreshadowing, Ali arrives at the dock in Tehaha, Tahiti and gets leied. Looking very much like a post-meltdown Britney Spears in her sunglasses, Ali iterates her feelings for the boys and says she looks forward to the dates. She then dons a pink bikini and jumps off of her balcony in this season’s best non-sequiter.

We cut next to Roberto who tells us that he’s been awarded the first date with Ali. Translation: He gets first crack at closing the deal in the Fantasy Suite. Let’s not sugar coat it, folks. It is what it is and Roberto is ready. I’ll spare you all the baseball metaphors.

Ali arrives in a yellow and white tank with a matching flower in her hair extensions. She’s missed him. He’s missed her. They hug and miss each other more and the date begins. Roberto emerges from the tropics in his gray standby t-shirt and board shorts sweating like a fat kid on the playground. Ali looks terribly apple-y in her burlap pants as the two approach the 50th helicopter we’ve seen this season. Apparently, that company offers a bulk discount. Ali and Roberto board the helicopter and proceed to cuddle, sweat on each other, itch each other’s hands, and “SO” everything each other. Their destination is a secluded, heart-shaped island that doesn’t really look like a heart named Tupai. Ali does her best to talk it up in her testimonial as she sports a muted gold Fay Wray strappy dress clearly held in place by two-sided tape along with those rubber things you put in the bottom of your bra to enhance the look of your Tahahas. Both worked. For a moment, I felt like I was watching that new Ochocinco show instead of The Bachelorette. Nine episodes in and now she decides to accent her cans? Odd.

Tastefully filmed from the side, Ali drops her burlap pants revealing her hot pink bottoms along with her canary yellow bikini top. Just Add Water could not have sold that set together, we think, as we imagine Ali’s dilemma back at her bungalow.

Sure, the pink bottoms look cuter on than the yellow, but yellow is my signature color. What should I do (insert pouty lip face in the mirror here)? Whatever.

Roberto loses his sweaty t-shirt and tests Ali’s weight gain by going with a quick pick up and run before frolicking, running, and sucking face in the surf ensues. We get some From Here to Eternity beach make out scenes as Roberto does his Spanish Burt Lancaster impression. Their conversation was repetitive and meaningless, but both seemed to be having a good time. He played the Mexican Christopher Atkins to her blonde headed Brooke Shields as they shared meaningful glances in the lagoon.

After washing the sand out of her hooha, Ali arrives at dinner in the Fay Wray dress ready for Roberto to give her hooters a test drive. Roberto arrives looking musked up and ready for action in his pinstriped oxford shirt, linen Capri pants, and some sneakers he borrowed from Chris L. as we imagine the song “Some Enchanted Evening” playing in the background. Come on, we’re in Tahiti. I had to throw in a South Pacific reference. Technically, I don’t know if Tahiti counts, but Hell, if you don’t get it, at least the Weatherman will appreciate the show tune shout out.

In a rare misstep, Roberto tells us that he has feelings for Ali but wants to be sure that they are “reciprocated back.” Oblivious to the redundancy of it all, Ali carefully studies Roberto’s dimples and lets her mind wander ahead to the Fantasy Suite. I’ll spare you the baseball metaphors. Ali and her up do are clearly nervous as Roberto tells her he can see them together. He’s been doing some thinking and now he’s got some ‘splainin’ to do. He tells her that he’s just going to “open up and put it out there.” We all know he is.

Before he opens up and puts it out there, Roberto tells Ali that he just possibly might be sort of falling for her and Ali displays her tiny teeth in approval and her eyes sparkle like a Tahitian lagoon. They decide to explore the surprisingly small confines of the Fantasy Suite and we depart with Ali undressing Roberto. We assume she opened up and he put it out there. “Am I the first man you made love to?” Roberto asks. “You might be,” she answers, “your face looks familiar.” Don’t worry Ali, the only time it’s wrong to have sex before marriage is if it makes you late for the ceremony. Congrats on bagging Roberto.

After washing the Tupai off her Tahaha, Ali prepares to meet Chris L. for their date. We get a toe to head panning shot of Ali in her striped bikini top, mercifully rufflely skirt/bottom, and brown sweater contemplating her enchanting evening with Roberto until Chris L. rounds the corner in board shorts and an orange crossing guard shirt hoping to mop up some sloppy seconds.

She missed him. He missed her. They miss each other some more, hug, and the date begins. Ali let’s Chris L. know that they are going to “take like the biggest, most luxurious, like catamaran in Tahiti” on an exploratory trip. Speaking of exploratory trips, I wondered what Roberto was doing. Ali fails to mention her exploratory trip on the biggest, most luxurious Spaniard on the island the night before. Details.

Ali points out Bora Bora and the other land marks she went over in her talking points session with the location scouts and wonders aloud to Chris L. “Like how is this on the same planet as, like, Massachusetts?”

Well, Ali, Earth (or the Earth) is the third planet from the Sun, and the densest and fifth-largest of the eight planets in the Solar System (Pluto was demoted a few years ago). It is also the largest of the Solar System's four terrestrial planets. It is sometimes referred to as the World, the Blue Planet, or by its Latin name, Terra. Home to millions of species including humans, Earth is currently the only place in the universe where life is known to exist. The Earth provides the (currently understood) requisite conditions of liquid water, an environment where complex organic molecules can assemble, and sufficient energy to sustain metabolism. The distance of the Earth from the Sun, as well as its orbital eccentricity, rate of rotation, axial tilt, geological history, sustaining atmosphere and protective magnetic field all contribute to the conditions believed necessary to originate and sustain life on this planet. The biosphere is divided into a number of biomes, inhabited by broadly similar plants and animals. On land, biomes are separated primarily by differences in latitude, height above sea level, and humidity.

That’s how. Someone get this broad an iPhone and load the Wikipedia App, for crying out loud.

For some unknown reason, Ali and Chris L. don pooka bead necklaces and discuss the hometown visit. Frankly, Chris L. is a nice guy and he seems to really like Ali. He’s probably her best pick if she doesn’t talk herself out of it. They cuddle some and Chris L. seems really into making out. We wonder if he’s really that into her or if he’s just enamored by the residual Roberto pheromones undoubtedly left over from last night’s romp on El Cuarto del Fantasy. Chris L. tells us that he feel like he’s 12 years old when he’s with Ali and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, that explains his wardrobe.

Chris L. and Ali swim for shore and Chris L. puts on his best plaid shirt. Plaid in Tahiti? Dude, come on. Ali breaks out her oversized white linen pants and they wade to dinner. They both whisper. In fact, they whispered so much that I almost missed an “amazing.” The fantasy suite card comes and Chris L. decides that what’s good enough for Roberto is good enough for him. Ali drinks plenty of water and lots of cranberry juice (that’s funny and you know it) and they eventually retire to a much larger Fantasy Suite with a private pool where we can only assume that Chris L. weeded and remulched Ali’s flower beds.

We next cut to a shot of Frank arriving via boat to drop the Nicole news to Ali. If stress was a rhinestone, Frank would be Liberace. He’s stressed, but finally happy that he’s in an appropriate environment for his Bermuda shorts. He actually had the balls to wear a yellow shirt. He’s ready to drop the hammer, but first, he needs to have a talk with Harrison.

Harrison arrives and sees Frank’s yellow cotton oxford with his turquoise linen button down and sits down to boost the ratings. Harrison listens, uninterested, giving Frank cues along the way. “What’s up?” “Really?” “Sure.” is all he can manage. When Frank is done with his allocution, Harrison turns the screws by telling Frank that he’s “blown away” and properly using the word “reciprocated” in a sentence. Take that, Roberto. I found myself feeling sorry for Frank. Stay with me here. The guy was an indecisive, neurotic, wishy washy, mess all season. He finally accepts his feelings, comes clean, and owns it. He’s finally made a decision. He’s in love. Isn’t that what this show is allegedly about?

Frank sweats and Harrison—clearly in a Zen-like trance inside his air conditioned suite—does not. Harrison encourages Frank to tell Ali, gives him marching orders, and it’s on. Harrison splits in order to down a few rum runners with some Polynesian dancers before being summoned to sop up the mess that Ali is about to become. Frank broods and paces.

After putting her Bora Bora’s back in place after her fantasy date with Chris L., Ali prepares for some Frank time. We see the most pathetically optimistic portions of Ali’s testimonial as she tells us how encouraged she is to see Frank in Tahiti. That was a little mean. We see Ali walking knowingly toward Frank’s bungalow and we see a close up of her looking innocent and sweet like a mouse before it’s dropped into the python cage. She tells us that she plans to take Frank sailing and we wonder if Harrison wasn’t boozing it up with some of the staffers on that boat so as not to let the rental money go to waste.

Frank pauses, hems and haws, but eventually drops the hammer as kindly as he can as the flower in Ali’s hair wilts and falls before she eventually throws it to the ground. Just then, in a modest house in a quaint Houston suburb Lincee Ray hit pause on her DVR and scribbled “that’s symbolism” on her yellow note pad. Symbolism indeed. Frank cries, apologizes, and feels badly. Not realizing he’s done her a favor, Ali cries, makes her hair look like a rats’ nest, gets angry, and then leaves after a cursory hug from Frank to go pout on the beach.

Alright, here’s my male perspective on the Frank thing. I realize I’m setting myself up for some debate, but here goes.

I honestly thought that what went down between Frank and Nicole was the most romantic and sincere thing that’s ever happened on this show. (Yes, I know Ryan and Trista are still married and have kids.) Sure, it wasn’t as spontaneous as it was made to appear, but what is on this show? Frank, single at the time of the show, started by seeking out Ali but realized he could not be without someone he’d once cared for deeply. He struggled to make sense of it all. I imagine that when it hit him he was half way across the world in the middle of filming the show. The Justin situation could not have helped either.

Frank eventually came to grips with his feelings, did what he had to in order to confirm them, then he flew to Tahiti in order to tell Ali the truth in person rather than taking the easy way out, owned the consequences on national TV, and sincerely apologized to Ali and to Harrison before grabbing his sh*t and heading back to live in his parents’ house. Say what you want, but that took guts. Contractual obligations and free trips to Tahiti aside, when a man has the courage to be that honest a woman should appreciate how difficult that is for him to do. It was unfair of Ali to call him a coward. The alternative is to go through with the Fantasy Suite knowing good and well what will happen after a few glasses of chardonnay and some encouragement from the Producers, roll the dice at the rose ceremony, and if picked, dump her months later. Frank, albeit a victim of his own indecisiveness, did the right thing. We should embrace him for it. Now all he needs is a job, a car, and a place to live that isn’t his parents’ curtainless house.

Ali arrives shoeless at the beach in front of her bungalow and at that very moment, the staff flipped the switch on a broken heart shaped spotlight and projected it high into the sky a la the Batman signal in search of Chris Harrison. Harrison killed his last mai tai, chased it with tequila, brushed the sand off his linen trousers, tipped a Tahitian stripper, and headed confidently toward Ali’s suite. Frank packs three weeks worth of bags despite the impression that he was only there for a short time and picks up a resort brochure on the way out. You know, for his honeymoon.

Harrison finds a now angry Ali on the beach and listens to her “this always happens to me” stories as his buzz quickly wears off. This might have hit her square in the Daddy Issues Nerve but at least her roots were retouched. “The hottest love has the coldest end,” said Socrates and we are reminded of the truth of that statement as she whines and whines about it and it quickly becomes annoying. Ali clearly has an inferiority complex, which is good and bad. The bad news is that it forces her to glom on to indecisive schmucks like Frank. The good news is that she views herself as the least of her problems. Incidentally, I believe Socrates also famously said, “I drank what?” Ahh, nothing like a little hemlock humor to keep things moving.

Anyyyyhooooo….

Frank did her a favor. He removed himself from the top 3 because he had feelings for another woman. She’s left with two really good guys who apparently are actually attracted to her. To be fair, Ali is entitled to her first reaction. It’s difficult to see the good stuff in the heat of emotion. She was clearly into Frank and later tipped her hand that he was the front runner. Despite Ali’s assertion, I don’t believe that Frank “knew all along” or he’s “the biggest jerk she’s ever known.” Keep in mind she knew Justin and Craig R. Such is life, Ali.

We move to the Temporary Lair of Seclusion and see Ali in a horribly unflattering black and white “dress.” This one takes the cake. I found myself wondering if I’d solved the mystery of where Frank’s parents’ curtains had gone or if the local Tahitian outlet mall had a Mama Cass Casual Wear store in it. Seriously. The Von Trapp kids looked better in their outfits.

Harrison arrives to throw sawdust on the vomit and eventually reminds Ali that Roberto and Chris L. await. She tells Harrison that she has high hopes. Harrison tells her he’s just high. She wants them to accept the rose she offers and Harrison leaves her to get her s*it together before dropping the “Frank’s gone” news on them. Roberto and Chris L. wait silently in the rose garden. I expected one of them to lean over and say something like, “So, how was it?” but that never happened. Ali drops the news on the boys in the vaguest way possible and both men grin from ear to ear. She tells them that she wants “honor” which I found ironic considering both of them had been “on her” within the last 24 hours. They get roses and we learn that Ali’s family awaits in Bora Bora.

Well, there it is. With the Amazing count at 154, we head into the Men Tell All Episode next week, which always proves interesting. In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ve also decided to do a Some Guy in Austin Tells All special blog entry. Send me your questions via email at dp010835@gmail.com or in the comment section and I’ll “tell all” in a special blog entry sometime after next Tuesday but before the Final Episode. Of course, I reserve the right to waffle like Frank or simply ignore the inane questions, but I’ll try my best to answer. As always, let me know your thoughts below or via email. My prediction is Chris L. or no one. Until next week, if you need me, I’ll be alone with my Tahaha. DP