Des #10: The Long Goodbye

A little context: I watched this week's show in the morning. Full, straight, beautiful summer morning sitting in front of the TV watching a reality romance show. In my nightgown. Not jammies, mind you, which are cute and say "sexy baby." No, a nightgown, which says "Do you need some soup?" Over yoga pants. With milk dribbles on my chin. Surely the fantasy suite dates are meant to allow a beautiful young couple to experience the morning realities and find the confidence to say "Yes, I can do that!" Don't you agree?

I have a valid excuse for the morning TV-watching and dire dress. I have spent the last four months reducing a home and thirty years of family life to this:

There's a reason people don't follow through with that lovely, hazy idea of "simplifying." It's bone-breakingly hard. Take a minute to look around your house and think, "Every item I see is a decision. Every item is something to handle and put somewhere else." Box? Shelf? Give away? Throw away? I'm lucky enough to have a basement to store everything I do decide to keep while we rent out the house and I join my husband who's working in Saudi Arabia, but no one would put as many reps into a stairclimber as I have into those stairs. Monday I finally finished, shoved the last random but necessary loose item into the car, and became homeless for the next three weeks. (I hope. Visa permitting.) I drove nine hours to my daughter's house and collapsed at midnight. Then went to sleep smiling at the prospect of sitting on the sofa with the milk dribbles and the chicken soup nightgown and daytime television. So in the interest of full disclosure, perhaps I'm not in the best place today to feel like The Dilemma of Desiree is that big of a deal.

(I'm also in a poor place to pour a lot of energy into getting and pasting pictures. Sorry.)

And after all the promos, all the hype, all the promises that this was like NO SEASON EVER BEFORE, what is there, really, to talk about? Despite being told at the beginning that we were about to embark on "the television event of the summer," I found the whole thing pretty slow. Kudos to producers on encouraging Des to wear the blue top with the loose waistline that would flutter picturesquely in the breeze while she cried at the end of the dock over the turquoise Antigua water. And in telling her to go there for her cry, rather than into her pillow in the dark.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Des went through the motions (all the motions, as far as I could see) with the other two men, enjoying a drive-to-the-beach vacation day with Drew, then a helicopter date with Chris, both of which ended in invitations to the fantasy suite. Of course, Des got captured on tape at the beginning of the show talking about heading for her "fairytale ending," which is basically the same as somebody saying "I don't see how anything could ruin this date." WARNING to future contestants: If producers are egging you into saying how great you think things are going to turn out, be assured they know something you don't know. Let's remember that they have already accompanied Brooks to Boise for his cold-feet conversation with his mother and sister. They know full well that trouble's a-comin'. And you can be sure those same producers high-fived each other when they got Des to actually say "fairytale ending."

Because yes, between the airing of the other two dates, we got to see that producers arranged for and accompanied Brooks on a trip from Salt Lake to Boise to meet his mother and sister and talk through his doubts. I did love the clarity with which he realized that "the idea of proposing at the end of this makes me uncomfortable." This is actually a sane reaction. It does seem that Brooks is being sold as a terrible guy, because surely no one could fail to love Des, but come on. I'm a little puzzled by his sister confirming his concerns by telling him that "At this point you should know." At what point does she think he is? He's spent private time with this woman...four times? All artificial, all chaperoned by a camera crew. Why can't he just say "I'd like to keep dating her because she seems like a fun girl so far"? Wait--no. Mustn't break the illusion that these dates are Serious and Very Important.

We get a nice snapshot, here, though, of what leads one person into staying with a different wrong person: the idea of breaking up is just too hard. I remember seeing a book author talking about rough starts to marriage, and citing some stunning statistic about the percentage of people married to someone they couldn't bring themselves to break up with. I get it. Most people struggle with short-term pain for long-term gain. I certainly do. My husband, on the other hand, will pour salt on a canker sore, break open a blister, drain an infection. Of course, he never had to do a breakup like this because--ta-da!--he wound up with me, complete with milk dribble and chicken soup nightgown. Lucky man. So after the one stumble, the sister gets it right, advising him that through all the pain and difficulty of a breakup he needs to keep his singular focus on "what's best for her, what's best for you." Drain that wound, buddy. Do it quick.

Unfortunately for us, "do it quick" is where the show failed. The breakup conversation was messy and took a long time, the way real ones do, but I wanted a television breakup. Quick and dramatic. Get out those editing scissors. Instead, we got lots of labored apologies and repetitions about how great Des was and how Brooks wished he could feel more. She, in fact, is better than he is, which she pshaws, but that doesn't seem to convince him to change his mind. ("Wait, you're not better than I am? You're just normal? Well, great then!") My son-in-law Kory, with the wisdom of dudes, identified the tone of the breakup: He's saying all the right things to build her up and make it about some missing magic because he knows he needs to date her friends, which is Des's case is the entire female population of the United States. So be careful how you go about this.

(I hope you noticed that although Brooks felt sure enough about his decision to end the relationship that he didn't want to go on the date, he felt UNSURE enough that he DID need to accept the trip to Antigua. I'm just sayin'.)

Cue a good dock-cry. Brooks, it seems, is the one who has her heart, which is now broken. And we still have TWO HOURS to fill next week. I'm not optimistic, either for Des's prospects or for my desire for high entertainment. I saw an onscreen tweet along the lines that Brooks is Des's Harvard, Drew a solid Ivy-League school, and Chris is her safety school. Does she take one of the backups, or decide to skip school altogether and go join the Peace Corps and stop shaving her legs for a couple of years? And what, oh what, will happen with the visit with her family? Will they encourage her to oh, just pick one and be done with it? Will her brother call up a posse and hunt down Brooks? Hmm. Perhaps there are some possibilities here after all. I'll have my nightgown laid out and ready.

Des #7: Slow Day at the Office

Putting people under stress and then seeing what they do is the foundation of reality TV. Survivor, Amazing Race, Project Runway, and certainly The Bachelor/ette. Lab rats will eat each other in crowded conditions, and The Bachelor/ette shows us that people will do the same thing, as men are crowded onto undersized furniture or multi-occupant bedrooms and then left there with nothing to do but threaten and be threatened by each other. Fascinating group dynamics. But by the time we're down to the final five, the crazies are gone, the men can stretch out in the suite, the jet lag from the trans-Atlantic flight is gone, and now they're lying around in the sun enjoying the alcohol. To lower the tension even further, no roses were at stake or even on offer on the dates this week. This is a week to watch through half-open eyes, saving energy for next week when the low man-numbers get padded by crazy family members on the hometown dates.

No-stakes date #1 went to Brooks, where we were at least benefited by grammar lessons. Lesson 1: Metaphors, in which one concept or image or object is used as a comparison to add understanding to the nature of another. As Des and Brooks drove to altitude, through the clouds, our understanding of the nature of romantic relationships was vastly increased by learning that they couple didn't just "break through the clouds, but had a breakthrough in our relationship," and we learned more about the degree of their happiness by learning they were "literally on cloud nine." Note, however, that they were not "literally" on cloud nine. "Literally" means "actually," which is not true. They were standing on rocks. Shortly after, they stood at the edge of a cliff, which I believe is also like a relationship, but which they missed commenting upon. C'mon. If you're going to do it, do it right.

Lesson 2: Adjectives. An ADJECTIVE is a word that modifies a noun. For example, "scruffy" is an adjective modifying "Brooks' facial hair." Or "Euro-trashy" to describe "the combined effect of scruffy facial hair and long head-hair." When the couple (standing on a rock, NOT on cloud nine), decided to come up with adjectives they "like and love" to describe their relationship, I was looking for words like "shallow" or "inexplicable." I wouldn't have thought a list of adjectives would be that hard to come up with, but Des needed time. Later in the evening, after hours of concentration, Des announced that she'd come up with her list of adjectives. Oh good! Ready? Here they are:
stepping, skipping, running, and the finish line. Need I comment? Nah, you've come up with plenty of great material on your own, right?

No-stakes date #2 was with Chris, where we got to learn CONTEXT DEFINITIONS. Or one, at least. The word? "Awkward." After a lovely sail to an island picnic, Chris said how natural they were together, and that writing poetry together felt "not awkward." Tricky! Sometimes you have to back into a definition, and in this case, what Chris said felt "not awkward" actually WAS awkward, because that's how it made US feel. Taking the poetry, putting it into a bottle, and heaving it into the ocean was also awkward, or it could have been if the waves had smashed that bottle against the rocks into a gazillion little pieces. Trying to tell somebody you're in love, when the receiving person can't acknowledge any mutual feeling, is also awkward. More awkward? Doing it sweating AND in poetry! Do we understand "awkward" now? Des did not. She said it melted her heart. And in a good way, she clarifies, which is smart, because the bad way is more like the Wicked Witch melting (thank you, Cheryl), which would be really awkward.

No-stakes date #3 was with Michael G., which seemed like a force, and on which I learned nothing. I should have, though, because the girlfriends from Sean's season (awkward = hanging out with women who competed for the same guy) all said he's "so smart" after they learned he was a prosecutor. We got to see another metaphor (love is "like a roller-coaster ride" to explain the importance of their street-toboggan tear down the mountainside). Remember, he's "so smart," so I should expect that. Des is struggling to connect, though, because she hasn't seen his vulnerability. Here's where I could've used a definition. What, exactly, does his vulnerability look like when displayed on a reality TV show? Remember, this is the guy with Type II Diabetes and a doctor so bad he thinks he's on the verge of death at any moment. Is that not vulnerable enough? 

The no-stakes double-date was with Drew "One Fluid Motion" and Zak "No-Shirt-No-Pants-No-Problem." I learned I want to look up that go-cart track when I'm in Madiera. And that between a complete tool and a complete goof...I'm way more interested in the goof. I was rooting for Zak to get a hometown date all the way just because I want to see whether his whole family runs around without shirts. Or if they all get a slightly maniacal look in their eyes when they're excited about something. 

In the end, Michael "the contender" went home wondering what's wrong with himself. Because clearly something must be wrong with you if you're not the one among 25 that a girl picks. (Ahem. I'll tell you what's wrong with you: Thinking you would necessarily be the one picked from among 25.) So we'll get to see how Chris's family numbed any natural capacity to feel poetry-based social discomfort; we'll learn whether there was no one available in Brooks' family to teach him how to shave; we'll see whether Drew's icy too-cool-for-alla-youse glare is genetic or learned, and see how clueless-and-happy narcissism distributes itself through Zak's family. With this show safely behind us, I'm looking forward to having some quality material to work with next week!

Des #2: Turbo tell-all

I understand paramedics, at some point, become numb to trauma. Doctors learn to distance themselves from tragedy. Puppy mill operators eventually find puppies no longer cute. Watching this week's episode of The Bachelorette I found myself wondering, At what point does a bachelorette completely glaze over in the face of yet another sob story? Yes, Des is a nice girl, and she makes appropriate pouty lips when somebody says "There's something I haven't told you about myself yet," but at one point during tonight's cocktail not-party I found myself thinking she checked out a few sad puppies ago.

And it got me wondering...What about the setup of this show makes people think it's important to lead with a bummer? To manufacture deep connection? Show vulnerability? Play a sympathy card? These guys this week (and last) are not unique. Season after season, contestants seem to feel the need to buttonhole the object d'amour at the first opportunity and explain how he or she was abandoned by a parent, the lone survivor of a fiery car crash, damaged by a bad relationship, afflicted by cancer...you get the idea. Odd, isn't it? At a normal singles mixer, who walks up to the person who's caught your eye and says "I just really need to tell you I'm an orphan"?

I think I've figured out one way that villains make it so far in this show: They keep their secrets and talk about fun stuff. Take a note, over-serious guys. Let the tragedies come out a little more organically.

The point at which I think Des had stopped listening was the same point at which Evil Ben interrupted and took her off for a cheerful conversation. Yeah, the same guy who got a rose earlier for...what?...having cheerful conversations. And what was he interrupting? The desperately important news that Brandon has...(drumroll)...TYPE I DIABETES. Yup, serious, for sure. I know a few people who have it. But it was never the first thing I knew about them. It would come up when they refused dessert or asked for a glass of juice. The fact that Brandon thinks this is a HUGE HUGE SECRET that is VERY IMPORTANT to share RIGHT UP FRONT because it's a TERRIFYING condition that he lives with EVERY DAY tells me he's got a crappy endocrinologist. Dude, if you're living in terror, the person who's supposed to be supporting your quality of life is doing a lousy job.

If we've learned anything from past seasons, though, it's that Bachelor producers love to push people out of their comfort zones. At our watch party Jill suggested we'd be seeing him on a Willy Wonka-esque journey-through-candyland group date.

But it took that long for things to get interesting. First she had the always-cursed first date with Peach Fuzz Brooks. Goofing off at her bridal shop, sunset atop the Hollywood sign, dinner on a closed street. We've seen this before. In fact, this exact date. Remember Ali and Frank, the guy with the "retail consultant" (shirt-folder at the Gap) job? I took no notes.

After that, the painful group date, in which the men were supposed to come up with rap verses for a music video. The standards by which someone is supposed to judge the candidates are strange indeed. I have a good number of friends. Fun people, in fact, who think I'm fun, too. Nay, even funny, in a pinch. But I would be so excruciatingly uncomfortable in that setting I'd make everyone else wish they could disappear. Axe. Then again, given the predisposition toward narcissism required to be on the show at all, maybe thinking about how quickly I'd get bypassed has very little to do with what's going on here.

Bryden "Bangs" the Veteran had the next solo date. In light of the apparent producer-pimping of his veteran status, I expected the date to involve a visit to disabled flag makers or making blankets for soldiers' children, but the the byline was the only place where "veteran" ever showed up. And even that was frequently covered by the scroll of tweets criticizing his hair. "Sweep your bangs to one side!" "Get a new barber!" Agree. I miss Des's bangs, and his cut-along-a-piece-of-tape fringe isn't making up for it. Oh, and in case you've gotten a great date idea for yourself from the show, let me clarify--as a Californian--that orange grove owners do not, as a rule, welcome passers-by to drive into the grove, pull oranges off the trees, and spread themselves out for a picnic in the shade.

And finally, the Des and the Dirks mixer, which seems a more apt name than "party," which ought to be an event people would be excited to come to. Men in suits, talking to each other, fighting over the one woman invited? Who'd want to come to that party? Well, Five-O'Clock-Super-Shadow Mikey T, for one, whose "right reasons" for being there seem to be mostly to make friends with the guys. Bro's before ho's, all the way. Earlier in the show, he confronted the dastardly Ben (suspected by the other men of not being there for the right reasons) by saying Ben seemed fake, and that Mikey T just wanted to be friends. Reassured they were, he shared a handshake and went back to the pool. As the mixer opened, he said he "doesn't want anyone to go home." Well sure. They're bro's. Then after Ben interrupted Brandon's HUGE HUGE SECRET revelation, I had to back up and double check to figure out whether I was seeing actual cartoon steam coming out of Mikey T's ears over the offense. Not Brandon's. MIKEY T's. He was mortally offended by an action in which he was not involved. In any way at all. Not even a witness. Didn't know about it until the bro's told him. I gave Mikey T a one-smiley rating coming out of the first show. I was way off. His entertainment value ratings are doubling and redoubling all over themselves.

At the end of the evening, Des sent home the three least Dirk-like guys remaining. Hi-Fiver Will, Robert the Sign Spinner (for whom I thought Des had a little sparkle at the beginning), and Nick M., the least "financial advisor" looking of the financial advisors. She must have told producers before the season started that she never understood why Belle in Beauty and the Beast didn't go for Gaston. "Now that's the kind of man I'm after," she said. Maybe if the men looked around at each other a little more critically they'd see how little interest she must have in personal tragedies and save them for a little later in the relationship. You know, like normal people.