Ok, I admit that until last night, I had never watched an episode of The Bachelor. As ridiculous as that sounds to the millennials, the premise of the show was never something I thought would be interesting to me.
Turns out, my first instinct was correct. I’m not Archie Bunker, but I am a 64–year-old white male, who would rather be viewing basketball or an old Clint Eastwood movie that watching a bunch of ladies embarrass themselves trying to get some guy to pick them out of a crowd like puppies in a pet store.
But my youngest daughter has been home from college for about the last three weeks, much of which time she has spent with her college friends and other interests, so Mom was in that “We’ll do anything if she would just spend some time with us” mode.
I pick my battles in this area wisely, and since there were no SEC basketball games on last night, I conceded the skirmish and gave in with barely any resistance at all. Well, I did get the iPad and headphones and tuned into the Beatles channel of iHeart Radio while they watched the show, but I stayed in the den with them and occasionally glanced at the program.
I could offer a few pointers to the “bachelor,” however, based on my limited engagement with the proceedings.
Number one, I would eliminate the “chicken enthusiast,” the one with the unicorn mask on her head and the “cowgirl” dragging the pony behind her before I even entered the room, and if possible, I would have them escorted off the premises. There are red flags all over that group and I personally would have cause to wonder how they made it onto the show anyway. Surely the producers had some kind of screening process, albeit an ineffective one, since these contestants were passed through. TSA agents would not have allowed them on an airplane.
Also, watch out for the twins. There is a problem looking for a place to happen. Unless I misunderstand the rules, you can only pick one, and should you get married, the one you spurned will become a lifetime enemy, with a solitary goal of the destruction of your marriage to the other. There is a high probability of a holy war breaking out among all the other members of the family, especially against those who, God forbid, wish the union joy and happiness.
The fact that one contestant (I guess you call them contestants) first approached you with a giant rose affixed to the top of her head should have resulted in an immediate dismissal as well. Was she not able to see herself in a mirror before she left the house looking like someone from the land of Gigantua slammed a Valentine’s cupcake down on her?
And how about Lace for a lifetime of happiness? She went into attack mode because you didn’t make eye contact with her and demanded an explanation why. I recommend that you should arm yourself right away. She may be looking in your bathroom window as we speak.
The previews of the next episodes show the girls passing the guy around like they were sharing a ring pop, but don’t worry about that. I’m sure your new bride will forgive and forget you were getting it on with 27 other women while she was trying to win your affections. Good luck with that. Maybe they should rename this show as “The Biggest Loser.” What, that’s already taken? Maybe I should watch more network television.
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