Juan Pablo #11: Red Flag Roundup

Home, I've heard, is the place where if you show up, they have to let you in. I have a sneaking suspicion that when Juan Pablo shows up at home, you close the door, turn around and mouth "What do I DO?!?" to the people behind, they all shake their heads, and then you open the door with a big fake smile.

• RED FLAG: When your family warns a girl on the meet-the-parents date about your flaws, those are some serious flaws.

I'm going to call out all the red flags through this week's episode of The Bachelor because all indications are that the girls aren't picking them up themselves. Shall we help them?

• RED FLAG: When people who have none of the distractions of "feelings" all see Your Devoted the same way, and you're the only one who doesn't, that's a red flag. And when those "people" are "the entire American public" including "the dude's family," yeah, that's trouble.

Witness, at the opening of the show, Chris asking the live audience seated in the Bachelor Beatdown Bowl whether Juan Pablo is here to find love and whether they think he'll marry one of these girls. A still shot, of course, doesn't catch it, but the sentient creature on the back row, marked with the arrow, started shaking her head before he was done speaking.

As Chris told us later in the show, these people "represent America." I'll say that one was my personal delegate.

Tonight Juan Pablo introduced his final two candidates for what, I don't know, to his family, spent a little more time telling them each how cute and pretty they were, and then was tasked with picking one. Just one. Just pick one, for heaven's sake. We don't care which. He wrestled with this choice, on television, trying to comfort the lucky rejectee at the end by telling her how late he made his decision. Footage which the Chosen One is sure to see. 

• RED FLAG: If Your Devoted has a really terrible time deciding whether he wants you or somebody else, you're probably not going to get all you hoped and dreamed out of that relationship. And if he thinks this is perfectly fine thing for people to know, that counts as double flags spelling "RUN" in semaphore.

Clare got the lucky first chance to meet the family and picked up all their red flags, sewed them together, and made her own. Let's replay this super-crimson conversation, giving everyone good reason to stay well away from both Juan Pablo and Clare:

JP's mom: He can be very rude.
Clare (nodding): He made me cry.
Mom: Me too.
Clare: But I understand he's being honest.
Mom: Yeah, and that can be really rude.

Clare's response? To declare herself "happy and comforted" to learn she WASN'T THE ONLY ONE. Oh, she said. So he's self-centered and insensitive with everyone? What a relief! Those loud voices in my head weren't telling me something untrue! They're RIGHT ON! So LET'S GO!!!

• RED FLAG: When people are looking at you like that, try to restate your reasoning in other words and see if it still makes sense.

Conversation with Mom safely dispensed with, Clare moved on to the brother, who asked what she would do "when he walks away."

• RED FLAG: Oh, good grief. Do I even need to say it?

Clare, clearly suffering from red-tone color-blindness, misses it completely and blithely declares that she'll just gut it out and hang in there harder. She's not going anywhere, baby, no matter how crazy things get.

Nikki attended the next day's Red Flag Fiesta, and Dad laid the whole stack of them out on the table right at the beginning. (After JP dazzled Nikki with his parenting skills by telling Camilla that she was "so pretty.") "Juan Pablo is not an easy guy," he says. The details? He always thinks he knows the truth. Everything is all about what he wants. He's stubborn. "Yup!" Nikki chirpped with a cheery nod. He told me he was stubborn at the beginning! I'm right on track!

• RED FLAG: When your inner voice is telling you bad things about a person that end up being true, get the toxic person out of your life BEFORE you get all busy congratulating the inner voice. 

Mom carried on the family color theme in her conversation with Nikki. Their conversation went thusly:

Mom: Juan Pablo will watch TV on the weekends, by himself, with Camilla, with the family. Is this the kind of guy you want?
Nikki: Oh, yes.
Mom: Are you sure?
Nikki (nodding)
Mom: Do you love him?
Nikki: I do.
Mom (this face):

 Then some silence. Then this face:

Nikki: Do you think he's ready?
Mom: I'm pretty sure.

•  RED FLAG: Oh, for heaven's sake. LOOK when you're talking to somebody.

In case the audience is as dense as Nikki was, Mom went on to say in the confessional, "He's not easy, but Nikki is strong, and she's in love, which is important, so I think if he proposes..." Yes? What's the insight? If he proposes they'll make this work? They'll be able to weather the difficulties? They'll have what they need to build a family? Nope. "I think if he proposes she'll accept."

Ouch.

Oh, and in case that wasn't enough, we have Brother Dearest, who is still waving his same flag madly, hoping somebody will notice:

Brother: How much fighting can you take? There's a lot of that in relationships. When things get rough, he walks. Can you deal with that?
Nikki: If there's no fighting, there's no passion.

• RED FLAG: Oooh, TV has a lot to answer for. To those misled by the movies, let's clarify: Disagreeing is healthy; fighting is not. Anger is not a trademark of healthy relationships. Yelling, punishing silences, walking away. These are symptoms of poor coping skills and/or bad family habits, not passion. Being "passionate" does not give you a pass on hurting or frightening the people you love. Disagree? Go check with your neighborhood therapist. Nuff said.

Nikki came away from her day with Juan Pablo's family (surprise!) strengthened in her confidence and commitment. You go, girl! Down with the ship!

And Juan Pablo--bless his avaricious, licentious heart--wrapped it all up with a bow, asking the universe "Can I just keep them both?"

• RED FLAG: Haven't we done this one already? And hasn't it been waving through the whole season while he iy-yiy-yiys to all the women about how hot they are, as a group, and announces in front of the keepers how hard it was to decide on them? If you want just one man, make sure he wants just you. Sheesh.

Finally, they each had solitary dates, and Clare's was defined by JP taking a precious moment to whisper something vulgar and insulting in his Beloved's (she thought) ear.

• RED FLAG: If he's not treating you like you're beloved, you're not.

But Clare was somehow talked out of her concern when they got together at the end of the evening. I'm not clear how. I really wasn't able to follow the thread of their conversation and find anything remotely comforting in it. But she spoon fed him the reassurances she wanted ("See, that's what I need to hear"), which he dutifully caught onto and repeated, and...done deal. A few besitos and all was well.

• RED FLAG: Perhaps a good exercise at this point in the relationship would be to look back and say, "If this whole thing goes down in flames, what will I look back on and tell myself I shouldn't have whitewashed over?" Yeah, that stuff. And right about now would've been a good time.

And Clare had plenty of time for that exercise because he had a date with the Other Woman the next day. Nikki, for her part, was desperate to hear him tell her he loved her, which struck me odd. You do know how this show works, right? He can't say it. It's in The Rules. But beyond that, he doesn't want to. Remember? He still wants both of them. Perhaps these simultaneous pictures tell the whole story of the relationship (as it appears from the After show to still be):

Figure 1: Nikki, all in.

Figure 2: Juan Pablo, sauntering along with one hand in his pocket.
Probably whistling.

And at last, the moment we've all been waiting for: THE END. It began with Juan Pablo, AquaMan, emerging from the sea:

Not quite sure why he had to take that route to the inland proposal site, but there he is. That was followed by Clare, walking the Path of Doom to her rejection, and then the moment that got the biggest cheer of the night:

No. We are not going to hug it out. And this:

No, you are not the kind of man I would want to be the father of my children. Another cheer. He might've rejected her, but she DUMPED him, baby. Her speech was terrific, and I have a sneaking suspicion she might've rehearsed it some during her day on ice. You know, just in case. Either way, it was perfect. Not that he got it--his comment about "Glad I didn't pick that one" as she walked away got the biggest gasp of the night. But as his dad already said, he thinks he's always right, right?

I want to elevate my opinion of Clare. Yes, she's got those Tierra habits, but she's fixable. Get her some counseling. Teach her how to take herself seriously and demand what she wants rather than plead and wheedle and flirt for it and she'll end up with a good life. Taking ownership of that breakup, then standing firm by her awareness that she was satisfied with how she handled herself is a solid beginning. I'm proud of her. Go far, doll. You've got the stuff you need.

Nikki, then, got...nothing? The understanding that he wasn't ready to dump her yet? Clearly, she wasn't happy with that, but she wasn't going to throw it back, either. Juan Pablo was going to permit her to hang around, and she was satisfied with that. So they've been, talking, I guess, over the last four months. Nikki had ownership body language all over the snuggling they were doing on the after-couch, but I didn't see the relaxation, the peaceful joy you see in a solid relationship.

• RED FLAG: If you're unequal in your feelings for each other, the clock is ticking. Don't quit your job and move out of your apartment just yet.

• RED FLAG: Oh, and another thing. "Honest" is not an excuse for being "a jerk."

Juan Pablo, for his part, continued to believe he was on some seriously high ground in his handling of the relationship and management of the public face he put on things. I got annoyed with Chris Harrison pushing so hard to get JP to say "love" (Chris, he's not saying he loves her because he DOESN'T LOVE HER), but did cheer for him after JP expressed frustration with the lack of privacy in the relationship and he said "You do know you're on television, right?" Ditto to Catherine, who said "Don't bite the hand that feeds you." I'll look forward to all of you telling me when you see the first "They've broken up" headlines in the tabloids over there. I have to confess that I'm not going to follow either of them on Instagram for updates. I'm with Chris in his closing comment as well: "Well, let's shower that one off. Another season of The Bachelor has come to an end. Not gonna lie. I'm okay moving on."

I found myself whistling an Ingrid Michaelson tune through the afternoon:

Oh, what a day is today.
Nothing can stand in my way.
Now that you've shipped out from under my skin
I think I'm ready to win.

Oh, what a night is tonight.
I think I'm ready to fight.
Now that my broken bones all have been healed
I think I'm starting to feel

Something good, something good
Now that you're gone, well I can roll on to
Something good.

I'll call it the Clare Victory Anthem. Or the We're All Free of Juan Pablo Anthem. And what's the Something Good that's coming? That's right, baby. Bachelorette Andi. Just when I was ready to call the whole thing off, here she comes. A Bachelorette to get behind. Well, then. Turns out my summer is spoken for.

P.S. Okay, just a few production notes. #1: Who is this woman? On the left. I saw her (and screen captured her) in the Women Tell All episode and decided not to make a catty comment about the collagen. And now she's back. This audience makeup puzzles and disturbs me. Every time.

Then there's this woman, who is unclear on when it's the right time to put a garter on your head:

And in the Bachelor All-Star gallery I caught who the men in the back were just at the end:

Eek! Arie is getting his Andi hug, and then there's that intense lawyer guy whose heart Des broke, then Brooks, who broke HER heart, then Des and the guy she DID end up with. Yeah. Bachelor participants have to be ready to handle a lot of weird stuff. Good luck with that, Juan Pablo.

Juan Pablo #10: The Women Tell More Than Usual

If the Make-A-Wish foundation ever decides to reach out to middle-aged adults in reasonably good health who just some have some cool things they'd like to do and can't arrange for themselves, pick me! My wish is television related, obviously. It actually comes in two parts that are arguably unrelated, but they're both REALLY easy to set up and don't require anybody to make any special accommodations. I mean, seriously--if a whole city can shut down to give a kid a Batman fantasy, surely I can just hang on the fringes of stuff that's already happening, right? So here's what I want:

1. A chance to sit in the writer's room of a really smart-funny show and watch the whole thing get thought of and put together. The Daily Show, New Girl, Parks and Recreation, Modern Family. Time travel, if available, would be even better, because then I could get Arrested Development and 30 Rock, and maybe even select favorite episodes WITHIN the series. Not that I'm choosy. But...no Two Broke Girls or Two and a Half Men, okay?
2. A chance to hang out and observe production for a reality series and learn how it REALLY comes together. Survivor, Amazing Race, Project Runway. How much time do people really have to do things? How much setup is involved? Who thinks things up and makes arrangements for them? When do those confessionals happen? What's going on off-camera and how are editing decisions made? 

Given the competition, The Bachelor would be at the bottom of my list, but oh, I'd take it. I do want to know how the women spend their time in the house, how long some of those dates really go, what's going on among the uninvolved women during cocktail parties and group dates... Oh, and the screening process! I think it's the same impulse that makes me want to be a fly on the wall figuring out the behind-the-scenes interactions in some family that acts really weird in a restaurant.

The women-tell-all episode gets us as close to that action as we're gonna get. (And we're know they're going to "tell all" because of the conversational body language expressed by sitting with their hands clasped over their knees.) What we saw this time, for the first time, is that the women had a LOT to say that never showed up in the confessionals. But my unanswered question is this: Did the complainers feels as badly used by Juan Pablo while they were there as they did AFTER they were dumped, and then saw Andi lay it all out on TV? Was that the moment when a whole squad of ex-girlfriends ran into each other at a bar and started to say "Yeah! He was like that around me, too!"

Quite a few bitter babies, there, eh? We heard lots of complaints about Juan Pablo being exactly as Andi described--awfully into himself, uninterested in learning anything about these women. But then we had Renee and Sharleen who had different experiences. Sharleen in particular said he had lots of questions about her life and what it was like and what she cared about. An emerging but rather obvious theory: Perhaps Juan Pablo was more interested in the women he was, well, more interested in. He was crazy about Sharleen, and therefore wanted to know everything about her. With the others, uh, sorry to say it, but if he's more interested in himself than he is in you, well, he's just not that into you.

THAT SAID, people who have a hard time finding people more interesting than themselves usually end up pretty lonely. People who are less pretty usually figure it out quicker, but pretty gets you enough attention that a hollow core goes unnoticed for a long time. Thus:

Super-appealing, right? Those chocolate bunny people know what they're doing. Lots of people are going to pick up something that looks like it's sweet and satisfying, but when things start getting serious, look what happens:

Granted, some are less hollow than others:

Either way, in the end you're left with nothing but air.

Ah, but the perfect combination is a PAIR of hollow bunnies

Yes, these two are both so into themselves that the pretty one beside you just magnifies and confirms your own prettiness, and all the self-talk is just an expression of how AMAZING the relationship is because you're so OPEN with each other, and you can go a really long time before either one busts into the hollow interior of the other.

By that measure, we're down to the right final two.

I wonder whether Bachelor producers might steer away from smart women for a while, given the self-elimination that two of them took this time. As we, laughing on the outside, can tell anyone on the inside, the premise of this show is RIDICULOUS, and anybody who expects to find True Love here is not on solid mental footing. Your best candidates have more of the attitude of a Lucy ("free spirit") who wanted Juan Pablo to understand that "this is a relationship, not a game." Her free spirit is so free of touch with reality that she's lost track of who she signed her contract with. ABC. That's an entertainment company. But she also seemed to think she had a relationship with Chris Harrison:

And her housemates:

And oh, golly, just everybody.

Maybe her threshold for "relationship" is just kind of low.

Not that awareness of the ridiculousness kept Chris from setting Andi up for her "journey" as the next Bachelorette! "So do you believe in true love?" "Do you think there's someone out there for you?" "Do you think you can fall in love?" WE GET IT. I had my worries as he referred to Renee as "fan favorite." That's usually the way we get told who we want as the next contestant. But no--Renee is in a "situation" that she's very happy with. Phew. And at last we have a bachelorette with some brains and sass and edge. Just when I told myself I was checking out after this season. Okay. One more. But bachelorettes only. No more skeezy bachelors.

Because that's pretty much how it works out, right? Bachelorettes go through the process a bit more thoughtfully than bachelors have. The dudes get caught up in the crowd of hot women, get dizzy, and pick the wrong one. Juan Pablo lost sight of what he was after--if he ever really was--the first night. I think Andi nailed it when she said Juan Pablo probably thought he'd been a great bachelor. Excuse me--The Bachelor. The proper name makes a difference. All his onscreen behavior suggests he took the role upon himself as a role. Girls he wasn't interested in (in the long term) he flirted with and made out with and made eye rolls over because he perceived it was his job. I mean--he got first class tickets while the girls went coach, right? So yet another Bachelor season is headed for a breakup, whether it happens on the show or after.

Yes, previews were meant to suggest that Juan Pablo takes up his spot at the Proposal Station and then breaks and runs, leaving two girls in tears. I tried to read the tea leaves, and I'm fairly confident it's a fakeout. The girls are crying in their underoos, yet we also see them dressed up and ready to head to the proposal. If they got told afterward that he's gone, they'd have been wearing their dresses while crying, right? No, I think they're just being emotional at some prior point. My prediction is that he'll pick one interchangeable fake blonde self-absorbed reality-bender or the other, with the breakup in the tabloids by mid-April. (I'm at a distinct forecasting disadvantage living in a place without a checkout-stand newsstand where I can see which way the tabloid winds are blowing. Call me a sucker and laugh it off if you already know differently.)

So I'll end with my favorite blooper shot of the night. No, not the water-car going literally dead in the water (too easy):

Nor Juan Pablo getting up from telling the camera he was ready for the next rose ceremony and walking away without pants:

Nope, my favorite was this one, in which one of the rose bushes in front of the elaborately and meticulously landscaped Bachelor Mansion tipped over, revealing its plastic bottom:

There, ladies and gentlemen, is your says-everything shot for the whole show. NOTHING IS REAL. Which should do all of our hearts good. Those women's bodies? Nah, don't even think about having a goal like that. The dates? Come on, who does those things? The relationships themselves? Pff, hardly. And your front yard? No amount of Miracle Gro can ever do that. Take comfort. Be happy. And pop some popcorn for next week.

Juan Pablo #8-9: The Art of Argument

There are a lot of cats where I live. In Riyadh, unlike my home in Denver, there are no predators, so the cats roam freely. They climb the trees and hop the fences, hunt, lie in the sun, passing from one property to another with nobody batting an eye about it. It's a good life for a cat. Sadly, however, people tend to live here for a lot fewer years than you find in the lifespan of a cat. The cats that get left behind without being neutered make new cats, which then turn into a "cat problem." The resources start getting slim, the turf starts getting too small, and then the fights start. I'm new to cats, and the term "catfight," used to be only an expression to me. (And I'm not alone--my image search on "catfight" brought up only pictures of women fighting. I had to switch to "cats fighting" to get actual cats.) Anyway, whether you call it a catfight or cats fighting, zowie. I'll show you serious up in here.

Nevertheless, the terms of engagement are clear, and both sides understand the vocabulary, no matter whether they came from English-speaking, Afrikanns-speaking, or Turkish-speaking houses. So the fights are fairly straightforward, and when they're over, they're over. (Even when the "end" involves me going outside and shoeing the perps away.)

Not so The Bachelor! Fussin' and feudin' can happen in ALL sorts of ways, the victor is not always clear, and what, exactly, somebody was doing in the first place can remain a puzzle long after the tussle is over. We humans could learn a lot from the cats about how to disagree productively.

I usually like the hometown dates. Like cats, the girls have less to fight over when there are fewer of them and they can spread out over their turf a little more comfortably, so the drama starts to sag at this point in the show. But then--genius!--we get a whole fresh batch of characters trotted across the stage to answer the questions that have been plaguing us about how some of these girls got to be the way they are.

This shot, for example, did a lot to help me understand Princess Nikki:

And interiors to match. No, it may not be Versailles, but that's a 1% upbringing right there, folks. Brings a certain sense of privilege, I'm sure. Add a slammin' bod, a pretty smile, a bottle of peroxide, and a flare for just the right combination of negativity and well-timed theatrics to make people feel grateful you're paying attention to them, and bam. You have a Nikki. Next!

On to visit Andi, who picked up a bit of an accent I hadn't heard before in her hometown of Atlanta. That's not all she picked up, though. Question: If Renee didn't have time to reunite with her son before JP got there (a top priority, one must assume), how did Andi have time to do that over-the-top ombre haircolor? But I digress. Mostly, I need to talk about my deep and abiding love for Andi's dad. Despite the pre-show hype, he didn't come out on the attack against Juan Pablo, but took the very reasonable stance of saying that Juan Pablo was asking the wrong question at the wrong time. The blessing he sought should come later, "after you're done with this thing you're doin'." A serious gift should only be given when it's asked for, well, seriously. And the Final Four Bachelor Hometown Dates is not a serious moment. I mean, come on. How seriously are any of us taking them? Next!

Oh, dear doomed Renee. The cut after the hometown date is always the unkindest cut of all. It says "I liked you until I saw you in a real setting." Which was dead true, and probably a mercy. I suspect the reason Renee got sent home was because her son made everything way too real for Juan Pablo. He had at least enough decency to realize that whatever fun he was having and hoped to continue having should not involve a kid who's not only ADORABLE (Norman Rockwell, anyone?) but the best ball player on his team. (If you've never been around youth baseball, tip: The kid who plays pitcher, catcher, and shortstop is your best athlete. By a mile.)

When Juan Pablo said to Clare that he "can't wait to see why you are the way you are," I don't think he appreciated all that he was saying. Perhaps what he wanted to learn was "why you have that Cupid's bow lip, and whether your figure is genetic and will stay that way forever." No, the surprise bonus discovery (one hoped) would be why Clare is cray-cray. Answer: The doted-upon beautiful orphan baby in a crowd of girls learned early that she was the center of the world and that she "deserved" all kinda of good things, including not having HER evening upended by her bafflingly awkward older sister. Deserved? No, honey. If this is your family, that's gonna happen. Sister Laura is one weird cat, who can't seem to interact with other cats in a way the cats themselves can understand. Speaking for Mom while Mom just sat there? Getting annoyed when she got called on it, to the point that she took that Drastic! Alarming! Threatening! step of standing there with her arms folded? "I have no choice, Clare. If you're going to act like that, you leave me no choice but to do THIS."

And then, from a bigger distance, to do THIS."

I'm guessing Kitty Laura spends a lot of time lurking around in the bushes by herself. This is a cat that doesn't know how to fight, just how to convince all the other cats she's really weird. This is not the way to conduct productive arguments, people. But clearly, we have a family with widespread communication problems. There's a whole web family dynamics at work here that we got only the tiniest tease about. I'm frustrated and intrigued. And I REALLY wanted the camera to follow Clare inside after Juan Pablo left and she had free rein to freak out on her sister.

After some final lip-biting and eye-rolling from Juan Pablo about how HOT all these women are to him TO THEIR FACES, IN FRONT OF EACH OTHER, and Renee's merciful dispatch (classy to the end), we got a 24-hour breather before the final dates in Saint Lucia. I needed it. The full week would've been better.

First up, Clare the Entitled, who told us it's "finally time for MY love story." Overall, their date just made me uncomfortable. We got the creepy exchange of her making sure she was being noticed enough by asking him whether he liked her dress and then him making a show of checking her out. Don't get me wrong--this is an entirely normal exchange between two people flirting with each other, and there would be nothing disturbing about it at all without the context of him being equally involved with two other women. But both he and Clare seem oblivious to this context, which is a job requirement for the show. Do what makes you happy, but I don't want to watch. Thank goodness the cameras had to leave.

Andi and Juan Pablo wound up having two very different dates, we learned later. What we saw of the date itself seemed routine enough, but by morning, he was delighted and she was disgusted. And HERE'S where I got really enthusiastic about Andi. Does she leave? NO! She's in St. Lucia, for heaven's sake! No emotional jumping on a float plane and disappearing over the horizon crying! Not for this girl, no sir. She's going to claim her full extra day on the beach, under the palms, enjoying little drinks with umbrellas, make her final video, save the big scene for the final moment, and then catch the plane she would've been on anyway. Cost-effective for the show, more fun for her. That's some savvy resource management there, folks.

But while Andi was stewing over the events of the previous night (at great length, it appears), Princess Nikki claimed her final date. And claim it she did.

WHO WEARS THAT? Well, a girl who's used to manipulating people, that's who. She said she hoped he "hasn't forgotten about me." Oh, that'll remind him, all right, but only of the same stuff everybody else has, and which you just want to make sure he knows are available to him. I don't ever want to hear her say "I just want to be taken seriously" or "Why can't I ever find a GOOD guy?" Juan Pablo (remember? the guy with the daughter? the one who wants to set a good example of what kind of man she should seek?) went on at great length about how sexy she is. ON TELEVISION. So I think these two are really well suited to each other.

At last, we came to the final argument. Andi and JP, one cat wandering blithely across the patio while the other was already bristled up and ready to pounce. This whole interaction was fascinating, and the kind of psycho-study I wait for in reality TV. Just guessing here, but seeing how things have played out I'm imagining that Juan Pablo's final four of choice would've been Sharleen, Andi, Nikki, and Clare. Two dark, cerebral, serious women; two blonde (let's not quibble about roots), emotional, dramatic women. Do we notice the coincidence that the two thinkers left under their own power? (Do we see the connection between Andi and her level-headed dad?) Looks as if Juan Pablo has found his level and wound up with two of the same model he's probably always gone for.

But, back to the argument. Andi started out very graciously, saying she appreciated all she'd learned and experienced, said she was leaving as a person who knew herself better. Then her calm-and-rational switch flipped when JP took her announcement of departure as nonchalantly as if she was a friend of his daughter saying she didn't like what you were serving for dinner and wanted to go home now. HERE is where the two cats start misunderstanding each other. I believe when he says "That's okay," he thinks he's saying, "It's right for you to do what you need to do. I'm not angry. I understand." When she hears "that's okay," she's hearing "I don't care. Doesn't bother me a bit. I'm just having fun, here." And so ALL the stuff she's been ruminating over for the past day, all the sins he committed over the night they spent together--the talking about himself, the name-dropping, the other-woman-mentioning--now she can't let that go. She genuinely cared! Her sacrifices, her investment are wasted! So now she has to prove him WRONG.

And he may be. (Evidence suggests yes.) But that doesn't matter. What she wants now is to MAKE him see how wrong he was, and how much that hurt her. But here's the thing: You can't make somebody see things your way. And when you're reduced to arguing facts ("You said default!" "I don't know that word!") you're clawing at a lot of fur and not getting anything done. She wanted her wounds miraculously wiped away, which was always impossible, no matter how much he might have groveled and apologized. The fantasy suite evening was reality, and no amount of fighting over what actually happened was going to remake it. She had to forgive herself for being there, stop trying to remake the night better in her own mind, and realize that the only story she had to tell was this: "I saw over the night that we don't connect well. When you talked about Clare that hurt my feelings so badly I had a hard time getting past it. That you don't get that means we just don't function on the same page. I'm leaving now." THE END. Here's what I'm doing, here's why I'm doing it, and here I go to do it.

I have to credit JP with maintaining a calm demeanor through the whole thing. Yes, they're both right. And both wrong. And both totally unsuited to each other. That they got this far is evidence of how bad this show is at enabling people to find genuine relationships. Let's remember--whoever he picks has to listen to an entire season of him lip-smacking over how hot the other women are before stepping onto the After the Final Rose stage to say how Wonderful Everything Is.

So we are left now with mirror image drama queens who, predictably, HATE each other. You don't need to know which one he picks to go ahead and choose your breakup date. It'll all be the same. But if you enjoy a lot of cats bristling up at each other, stay tuned for the Reunion show next week. Should be a doozy.

Des #11: The Whole Truth

Bachelor producers are a bunch of lying liars. Sure, I've given them plenty of credit before for pretending they're making a serious show, and maybe they were telling the truth when they said we'd NEVER seen a season like this before! or that this would be the most! shocking! season! finale! ever!, but when they say they're "coming to you live from L.A." they're not. They're just not. Watching from L.A. this week, I'm here to tell you we're the last to find out. In real time, Eastern and Central time zones watch at the same time, an hour later it starts in Mountain (hollah! No, seriously, HOLLAH. Maybe someday people will know we exist.), then Pacific TWO HOURS after that. The general tone of the texts I got through the evening was "Have you seen it yet?" No, was my answer. I'm in TVLand, waiting for TV.

At some point (ahem--MUCH earlier in the day) our Bachelor Nation delegates gathered in their solid-color sleevelesses in Convention Hall, which is really just an occasional reuse of the ABC Lighting Prop Warehouse.

Please, can we identify ALL the sources of light in that room? Holy b'glow-sticks, Batman! We have the votives, of course, serving as a Barrier of Flame to keep the women off Juan Pablo (oops! spoiler!), some sort of uplight behind the votives, some creepy spotlit bouquet-thingies, illuminated stair risers, sconces, spotlights, TV panels, and of course the glowing stage floor. Now I've watched enough HGTV to know that lighting is what transforms a room, but apparently somebody who picked up that same general idea also had an unlimited budget and no restraint. If you got it, Lighting Department, I want it. Chris Harrison wants ambiance!

 

I cannot identify all the light-emitting things in the background of this shot. Sure is shiny, though.

And what are those orbs? Okay, perhaps I'm getting sidetracked from the show, but I'm not alone. If there really had been two hours of content, that would have been what we saw, but instead we got about forty-five minutes of content and a whole lot of studio time. So is it my fault for being distracted if producers bore me with audience input and simultaneously throw in a bunch of shiny things? (I say no.)

When we did have something to watch, we got to see Des, freshly heartbroken from Brooks' rejection, talking about next steps with Chris Harrison:

Des: I just want to go home.

Chris: I understand. (Silence.)

Translation: You can't.

Yeah, she's stuck there, all right. Gotta deal with these other men one way or another. We've been treated to plenty of hyperbole about how high the stakes are: "Can Des find the love she deserves?" (Deserves? What does that mean? How do you break through the dividing line between those who do deserve love and those who don't?) "Or will her dream of finding love be CRUSHED FOREVER?" Forever, folks. Forever. This is her absolute last and only chance of finding companionship. Fail here, and it's straight to the kitty section of the animal shelter.

So, because she looks like a person who might have allergies, she decides to give it a go and check out the remainders one more time: Drew "One Fluid Motion" and Chris "Poetry Man." She's certainly all in, though, because she's giving herself just that one microsecond at the rose ceremony, while cameras are rolling, her mind is tumbling, and she may or may not be nauseated, to decide whether she "feels" anything. In her own words, "If I can't see a future, for me it's over."

Well, hello, kitty!

Don't worry, with enough love you can redeem anything.

But no! She's going to give the men one more chance! Open her heart to love again! Have another couple of dates, see how things shake out, and who knows? Maybe that cat will have to find another home.

First off, Drew, who has already set his own course for an animal shelter shopping trip by saying, "I'm ready to propose. I'm so in love with her that I could never walk away from her. That's just never gonna happen. I'll never leave Desiree." Look, pal, in movies, if you don't want to be killed off, don't cough, and don't look at a picture of your wife and baby before you go into a battle. In reality TV, if you don't want to get cut, don't say "I'll never" or "Nothing could go wrong" or "I'm in control of this game." We clear?

But my warning is going to hit about three months too late, and things already seemed strained as they got on some seriously pokey horses to w-a-l-k v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y to the beach.

Hey, wait a sec! As I'm searching for pictures of Pokey I see Drew actually looks kinda like Gumby:

Do you see it? Move that swoop of his over a little to the side, give Drew some mittens, give Gumby a collar and a sweater...I think we're there. Now all we need is Drew saying "Oh, no! Oh, no!" in falsetto while twisting his clay head from side to side while Des (taking a lesson from last week and speeding things up) tells him there's nothing there.

One down, only one to go. Not giving herself a lot of options, is she? Is Des starting to feel that little kitty tongue licking her face in the morning to wake her up? Apparently so, because she says before her date with Chris, "This is the last chance for me." Last, folks. The last.

(It's important to keep your options in mind.)

So to avoid ending up with Pirate Kitty, Des announces that she would "like for today to go perfect." Well, gosh. I'd like today to go perfect, too. Here's my perfect: Wake up perfectly rested. Go for a walk. Meet a puppy. Pick up croissants for breakfast. Write the blog in ten minutes. Get a good watermelon. Save a child's life by stopping a stroller from rolling into the street. Have a stranger tell me I look great. Tarte flambe for dinner. I don't think either Des or I are asking too much.

But in her case it works! And I honestly really like what happens here. Des pulls the covers off the way The Bachelor goes about failing at helping couples find each other, and they let her. The problem, she can see, is that she went for the wrong guy in Brooks, got swept into romance by romantic settings and acting out old patterns of falling for guys who just never quite loved her back. "You do like the chase," she admits. All the unnatural constraints of the show made it hard to see the plainly solid, good guy that was exactly NOT what all her past mistakes were. For that reason--that the first choice got cleared out of the way so that she could see the better choice--I think these two actually have a chance. The honest truth.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Mustn't give short shrift to my favorite bizarre twist of the whole process: The ring "shopping." I dearly wish I knew more about the arrangements, here. Is this ring on loan? Is Chris on the line for the full price if the wedding goes through? For sure he ain't buyin' it on the spot. Chris refers to it as "a commitment I will provide for her." Note: With a ring that has been provided for you. Weird. Every time.

As for the proposal, I think we could all read exactly what Chris was thinking and feeling when, after he poured out his heart and was about to drop onto one knee for the proposal, Des said to wait, that she had something to tell him. Ack! The knife! I'm not sure when or how he fully processed that she wasn't about to send him home, but it took a while, and the poor guy was feeling that knife twist back and forth a number of times.

Phew! Another season done! The wishes of many were granted in seeing Juan Pablo emerge as next season's Bachelor, which I will be watching from across an incomprehensible cultural divide. (I'm pretty sure there's a Saudi Arabian Idol, and equally sure there's not a Saudi Arabian Bachelor.) For more on what I find between now and January as I start living in said exotic locale, keep an eye on Foreign-Girl.blogspot.com. I have exactly one actual post there now. Making progress.

I'll see you in January! And I'll let you know if this guy turns up anywhere:

Des #9: Revenge of the Dirks ("The Men Tell All")

Remember that magical first night, so very few weeks ago, that cage-match of testosterone-and-alcohol-fueled gallantry known as the opening cocktail party? Our first encounter with Zak "No pants no shirt no problem"? And Ben, just one feathered hat away from a full-scale pimp for his son? Brandon and his "life-changing feelings"? Diogo one-upping him with "an explosion of love and feelings"? And who could forget Jonathan and his very large love tank?

Well, maybe everyone could forget a lot of that because the most consistent thing I heard people say that week was that NONE of us could keep these men straight. By the second week, they were all Dirk to me. Love tank Dirk, bare-chest dirk, five-o'clock-shadow Dirk, even bigger neck Dirk. It seemed clear that Des had a type, and it had a lot to do with hair gel, an even spray tan, and a huge neck. But now that we're down to three, they're the three least-Dirky guys of the bunch. But this week, in a festival known as "The Men Tell All," the Dirks are back. Ah, I've missed them. 

But wait! There's more! I've missed the real show all these seasons, distracted by the shallow entertainment of watching contestants tear open each others' old wounds. This week I learned that the REAL show is in the audience, where, according to Chris Harrison, the crowd is made up of "those representing Bachelor nation." 

Oh.

Well, gosh, that changes everything. So, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you your unelected delegates to the Next Bachelor Nominating Convention:  

They're attentive and engaged, which should make us confident about the way they're representing us. However, I am a little concerned about the one at the lower right, immediately under my pause icon. She doesn't look as if she's completely gittin' it. The one in the center of the same lower row, as well, seems confused. Wild card voters.

Note the dress code. No displays of partisanship. So instead of buttons and funny hats, these delegates are asked to wear solid colors, open at the chest and neck. Tank tops if you've got the arms to carry it off. If not, be advised you will not be seated on the aisle.

Of course, a few rule-breakers always manage to sneak in:

And rogue cameramen always manage to find them. It increases the dramatic, anything-could-happen tension.

Candidates for Next Bachelor are interviewed, offering opportunities to make a few introductory remarks. As with presidential races, there are a good number of just-happy-to-be-there candidates, no-shots or long-shots at best. But bless them, they keep trudging along, sniping at the front-runners and grinning through their closing moments of fame. Among them, Fantasy Suite Dirk did the best job of entertaining from the fringes, absorbing graciously all offered shock and horror at the creeper behavior that got him sent home before last call at the opening cocktail party.

Between them and the ones at center stage are the mid-rank candidates who have no realistic shot but do still have a lot of name recognition. This would be where you find your Kasey (high-voice Dirk), your Mikey T (five-o'clock-shadow Dirk), your James (biggest-neck Dirk), your Juan Pablo (not Dirk). But wait! The world has gone mad! There's a mighty Juan Pablo movement afoot, though we've never seen a Next Bachelor from the mid-ranks, actual discussion about James and Mikey T., and a final three who might all be fatally damaged. This could be a very interesting convention!

Granny's certainly puzzled, I'll say that much.

Juan Pablo pulled off the best move of the night, simultaneously elevating himself while cutting down somebody else. Asked about James, he said that he liked him, but to be honest, "My daughter or my sister, I would not want to date James right now. If he becomes the good James, I'm happy with it, but right now, not my daughter, not my sister." Though Chris asked James very directly about whether he'd consider being the Bachelor, the delegates gave him a sound rejection. And a lot of shocked faces:

 

That last one might've been more of a coulda-told-you face. Yes, the delegates were in agreement: No matter how many times James retold the story of what was REALLY happening in that back-of-limo, what-happens-next conversation, and no matter whether he told it BETTER this time than any of the four or five other, also different times, no. Just, no. Our delegates will never consent to seeing James as the next Bachelor. Phew.

Juan Pablo, I must admit, acquitted himself very well. Noble family man (no time to date when he's a father), good father (as in, ahem, actually talking to his daughter and about her while in the mansion, unlike the also-booed Ben), athlete (Des: "Soccer players have the best butts), clever and in possession of solid values (for evidence of both, refer to previous quote)...we got more out of him than we did in the whole show. This may be the fan fave.

And then we come to my fave, Zak. I tend to go for dark horses. I gave him a five-smiley high-entertainment-value rating in the first show. (For complete ratings click here.) And he has delivered. But doggone it, he's turned out to have substance! This was a genuinely devastated guy, who went into this game with his heart wide open because that's how he does everything, and who suffered for it. This is a guy with bachelor's degrees in BOTH psychology and English, a graduate degree in humanities, and a job as a...fluid drilling engineer? After being subjected to so much labored verse through this season, the poem he wrote in invisible ink in the back of his gift to Des turned out to be GOOD. And then his song? Ack! Good again! Sitting there with my heart of stone and my inappropriate sense of humor, I was having feelings! Somebody find this guy a good woman.

And that's where we'll have to leave it for now. I am in the process of moving to Saudi Arabia, and spent today chasing around on visa business rather than writing. Saudis love official stamps, and it took most of my day to find someone, ANYONE willing to put some sort of stamp on my medical report that the Saudis would accept as certification that my doctor is a doctor. Will Bachelor Nation move more efficiently than the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia? Well, by the end of next month, I should be in country. But the next Bachelor? Mmmm...could take longer. And you don't get to vote. Bachelor Nation isn't a democracy, you know. More of a--oh. Kingdom. Good grief. They're even more similar than I thought.

P.S. I'll be blogging about the Arabian adventure. Foreign-girl.blogspot.com. Nothing much to say yet, but it'll start filling in soon enough.