I had such a lovely day today. I was off from work. I slept in, then read in bed and snuggled cats. I went shopping for flowers for my patio, stocked up on wine, and bought a cake because I wanted cake. I took a nap. It might have been a wine nap.
Now I’m going to undo all that self-care by watching The Bachelorette. Last week Sweet, Dumb Jordan became Gross, Dumb Jordan when he decided his strategy was to not wear pants. Colton told Becca he spent a hot weekend with Tia. I got real drunk on rum and Cokes.
This week opens with a Becca hanging with her girlfriends, including Tia and Bekah M from last season. They sip mimosas and eat croissants. Tia says that she and Colton split before the most recent season of The Bachelor aired. Becca wonders if Colton thought Tia might be this season’s Bachelorette.
The dudes are interrupted having breakfast by Chris Harrison. He reiterates that Becca is not fucking around this season. Then he tells a select group of dudes, including Colton, that they’re going on a group date. The dudes are taken to a spa where Becca and her friends are waiting to be pampered.
Gross, Dumb Jordan is among the group and you know some PA was like, “Hey buddy, you got your pants on? I…no, put on pants first, then shoes, pal. Yup. Yup. Okay, good job dude!” Then they toss a liver snap into Jordan’s mouth.
Becca totally forgets Jason’s name and I cackle because I’m a child.
The dudes paint Becca and her friends’ nails and give shoulder rubs. Tia pulls Becca aside and says that she and Colton never did more than kiss (Colton makes it sound like they had a sex-soaked weekend), and that when Colton told her that he signed up for The Bachelorette she thought “ew.” She decided “to stay friends.” Then Tia tells Becca she loves her, and they share a hug that’s way more affectionate than anything I’ve seen so far this season.
Then it’s time for the cocktail hour.
Because we can’t have nice things, David, the guy who was previously dressed as a chicken, tells Becca that Jordan brags about his 4,000 matches on Tinder and that his swipe percentage is 100. That’s pretty impressive for a guy who can only get his pants on correctly every other episode.
Becca says to Jordan, “Hey, 4000 matches? That’s a good streak,” and high fives him in a super sarcastic way.
“That’s a bitch move,” Gross, Dumb Jordan tells David. “You’re a bitch.”
Excuse me.
EXCUSE ME.
You do not get to go throwing around that term like you know what it means, you irrelevant little dumpster fire.
Oh, no. I am a bitch. I can dead eye stare a man so cold his nuts shrivel. I can smell toxic masculinity from 1000 feet away. I am slowly picking away at the patriarchy, brick by brick, because I am glorious and terrible, and to be feared. You, little man, have no idea what the word “bitch” means.
[ed. note: Can confirm.]
Back to the show!
“You are a skeleton of a man,” Gross, Dumb Jordan tells David.
Nope, he’s definitely not a skeleton. Pretty sure they would have shut down production for that.
So then Jordan sits down with Becca.
“I know it’s hard with me being, like, a model,” he says. (It’s not, but okay). “And it’s tough. It’s like genuine. I can’t find anyone that matches the intensity. The fun. I’m looking for someone that’s wholesome. Someone that’s not only pretty, but smart. Someone who has that bright smile. You have such a bright smile.”
Becca smiles in a way that makes me think she’s enjoying this. Kind of the way a cat fucks with a mouse before it eats it, and then eventually barfs mouse guts next to the bed at four a.m.
She leans forward, chin on the palm of her hand. “How are you in a relationship as a partner?” she asks. Then she takes a slug of a drink that I am assuming, based on where this conversation is going, is made up entirely of clear liquor, ice and a lime.
“Me?” Jordan asks, even though there’s no one else there. “I’ll do everything. I cook. I clean. I’m a golden retriever.”
“That’s super fucking unfair to golden retrievers,” says Rich. He’s buried under Dewey who is exhausted from supervising the tree trimming people all afternoon.
“I could be a boyfriend and have a total girl’s day,” Jordan continues.
Becca is laughing hard enough that she’s got drops of her drink on her upper lip.
“I’m like always going to be in my element because this is like dating. This is like dating Becca,” he concludes. “You’re something I can see my self next to. You’re the goal.”
So then Jordan goes back to the drinking couch and he and David are just bickering at each other, and I shit you not, the other guys are just downing their cocktails, heads thrown back, looking for the sweet release of liquor. Jason pulls a pillow over his face and slumps down.
“It’s funny you think I’m a joke,” Jordan says. ” I’m a [indecipherable] model, I don’t think you know what that means, and I have an edge. If you’re trying to tear down my image, and my three year contract with them, that’s pretty serious. It’s something some people consider the top. So if you’re trying to do that, you’re failing at it, because guess what. Attached to me is professionality. It’s my FACE. It’s everything I do. It’s the way I walk. It’s the way I talk. Okay? So if you wanna wreck my image, you’ll never succeed because my image is ME.”
“That was fucking awesome,” Jason says from behind his pillow.
Since we still haven’t milked the Colton/Tia thing enough, Becca talks to him about it again and decides she still wants to get to know him.
We’ve devoted more time here to Colton and Tia than they actually spent together.
So then Colton gets the group date rose.
Next up is a one-on-one date with Chris. They go to Capitol Records where Richard Marx is waiting for them. (Right here, waiting. For them.) Richard is going to help them write a love song and Chris looks terrified. I feel so bad for him right now.
Chris says he doesn’t like to be vulnerable because a few years ago he wrote his dad a letter, asking him to be part of his life, and he got shut down. When Chris reads his lyrics, they’re really good and Becca tells him she can’t believe he could doubt his talent.
So now we’re an hour into this and I have what I like to call “the wine sweats.”
“Is it super hot in here?” I ask Rich. “Should we turn on the AC?”
Rich points out that it’s only 70 degrees, but I did drink most of a bottle of wine and eat part of a cake so….
I’m living my best life, you guys.
Back at the McMansion, Jordan asks Colton about Tia. Colton is actually pretty decent about it and just says that he wouldn’t want to discuss anyone’s ex on camera and that it’s not open for discussion.
But we’re talking Gross, Dumb Jordan here, so he doesn’t get that message. He says that the guys wanted to discuss his dating history.
“The guys” are pretty emphatic that they actually do not want to discuss Jordan’s dating history, but that he wanted to tell everyone about his eleventy billion Tinder matches or whatever.
So then Jordan says, “I talk to God everyday and God knows, if Jordan’s got an issue with someone, 86 ’em.”
Then we cut back to Chris and Becca having dinner (where they aren’t allowed to eat) and Chris tells her how his dad abandoned the family and cut off all contact with him. She gives him a rose.
Then a door opens and Richard Marx is playing the piano and singing. Did…did you not go home, buddy? Just gonna follow us around singing? I…okay.
Is Richard trying to edge on Chris Harrison’s creeper territory? Does the episode end with the two of them rolling around on the slick McMansion driveway, throwing punches? Who will the Rose God choose?
So, then, we cut back to the McMansion where we get grainy camera footage of a guy in his boxers being carried down the stairs on a stretcher by EMTs. Lincoln says he saw David slumped on the ground, surrounded in blood. An ambulance takes David away.
The next morning the guys are all discussing what happened. Chris Harrison surprises Becca at her hotel and tell her “there was an incident at the house last night.” Chris says David is in the ICU with a “busted face.”
Apparently David fell out of bed and landed on his face. For the record the dudes are sleeping in bunk beds. Also I’m pretty sure a lot of booze was involved.
Becca calls him and he tells her that he’s looking forward to healing up and being part of her “journey.”
Next up is a group date. Malissa Miles and Dina Karwoski from the Legends Football League are there to put the dudes through their paces. Clay, a NFL player, is in his element.
After drills, the guys play against each other in front of a live audience. During the game Clay injures his wrist and is taken away by ambulance.
During the cocktail hour, Blake is struggling with having to share Becca with other guys. What the fuck did you think you were signing up for, dude?
He tries to tell Becca about his insecurities and she just looks exhausted. “I just want to take a nap,” she says, then quickly adds, “with you.”
So then Clay comes back, arm in a sling. Blake is clearly uncomfortable by the amount of attention Becca is giving Clay. He does this thing where he kind of sinks down in his coat and pulls the collar up, like a jealous little turtle.
Also we’re at the point where everyone is kissing Becca and you know they’re all going to have the same cold next week.
Clay gets the group date rose.
Then, because time is an illusion in Bachelorette world, it’s the next night and therefore time for the pre-Dreaded Rose Ceremony cocktail party.
David is still in the hospital I guess. How hard did he hit his face? Jesus.
We find out that Clay needs immediate surgery on his wrist if he’s going to keep playing football professionally. He tells Becca that he has to leave the show. Becca cries as he’s driven away.
So that’s where the episode ends. I’m going to take some ibuprofen and drink a bunch of water. Are you still watching?
If Clay had been there for the right reasons, he’d have said to hell with his sportsball career and stayed to play the game of love.
It’s obvious Jordan enlisted the puppet who now serves the Rose God to “86” David. David isn’t coming back because the puppet made it clear there won’t be a second warning.
When I was reading about David being found surrounded by blood, I thought we were going into Midsomer Murders territory. I’m wondering if it will come back later that someone actually hit him.
“irrelevant little dumpster fire”, “irrelevant little dumpster fire”, “irrelevant little dumpster fire”. I am practising, because I am sure that this will come in handy someday.
Meanwhile, having never seen the Bachelor/ette, it always seems from your descriptions like each episode lasts about four hours. I don’t know how much you are getting paid for this, Amanda, but I think you should add on extra for hazardous duty pay.
I have essentially the same routine as Elyse – every Tuesday I fix myself a stiff drink, position a cat on my lap, and settle down to read Elyse Watches the Bachelorette.
I need to stop reading these at work. People are going to think I’m a lunatic and it is far too soon for people at my new job to know that.
When I saw the commercials about someone being taken away by ambulance in the middle of the night, someone falling out of bed is not what I imagined. Was David on the top bunk? Does he typically fall out of bed? Maybe the Rose God came for him in the middle of the night? I have so many questions.
“ou do not get to go throwing around that term like you know what it means, you irrelevant little dumpster fire.
Oh, no. I am a bitch. I can dead eye stare a man so cold his nuts shrivel. I can smell toxic masculinity from 1000 feet away. I am slowly picking away at the patriarchy, brick by brick, because I am glorious and terrible, and to be feared. You, little man, have no idea what the word “bitch” means.
[ed. note: Can confirm.]”
LOL I love you guys.
Seriously read your “I am a bitch” rant several times. It was so good!
I, for one, was absolutely shattered with disappointment at the prosaic fell-out-of-bed explanation. I thought for sure it meant a couple of the bachelor-dudes had a disagreement and attempted to “settle it like men” (manspeak for “settle it like a couple of four-year-olds who know of no way to resolve differences except by hitting each other”).
But wait. Stop. Rewind. Bunk beds?! The producers are too cheap to give each guy his own room? Do the women on The Bachelor also sleep in bunk beds, or is this yet another manifestation of male hierarchicality akin to the way the girls in The Brady Bunch had free-standing beds, while the boys had bunk beds? I thought that kind of thing went out with male-only primogeniture.
n/m, I’m babbling. Just think how much worse a state I’d be in if, like Elyse, I actually had to watch the show.
It strikes me that this show would make a good setting for a mystery … or romantic suspense. One of the contestants, determined to be the winner, injures or kills off their rivals until they’re down to only a few. Then someone actually intelligent (Jordan or his equivalent is hauled off in an ambulance … or hearse) figures out who it is, has a big reveal, and walks off with the prize. I didn’t use him/her pronouns because it would work for either the Bachelor or Bachelorette.
Someone write this, please.
@Todd: Did Chris Harrison finally snap, or is the true culprit merely exploiting his obvious downward spiral to use him as a scapegoat? The truth may never be known…
Okay… wait. Just… wait. I got a very serious question:
IF Jordan talks to G-d every day – and IF Jordan has an “issue” with someone, so then G-d knows to “86 ’em” – then did G-d try to take out David FOREVER? And so – even though David had to be hauled off to the hospital in his boxers – BECAUSE David (apparently) lived through his assault-by-bunk-bed-&-floor, does this mean that G-d failed at the 86-ing? Like, G-d only 43’d? Or 65’th’d (uh, whatever)? So, what I’m asking here is – did The Bachelorette just prove that G-d is NOT infallabile?
Oohhh, Elyse (Rich, & Dewey) – my head!
It’s swirling; everything’s all jumbly!
I. Just. Can’t…
That said, am counting the hours til next Tuesday morning.
“I am slowly picking away at the patriarchy, brick by brick, because I am glorious and terrible, and to be feared. You, little man, have no idea what the word “bitch” means.”
Can we get this on a t-shirt? Cause I would wear the fuck out of that.
Were not watching silly – that’s why we read your review every week
I’ve said this before but it bears repeating – I freakin love Rich!!
“I can dead eye stare a man so cold his nuts shrivel. I can smell toxic masculinity from 1000 feet away. I am slowly picking away at the patriarchy, brick by brick, because I am glorious and terrible, and to be feared. You, little man, have no idea what the word “bitch” means…”
No, Elyse, I am NOT watching the show. I have never watched the show. I don’t care about the show. I am 100% here for you.
I love that you had an Absolutely Fabulous clip!!!!
I feel like the Bachelor/Bachelorette may be responsible for an increase in wine sales. Elise drinks wine while watching the show, I drink wine while reading the her postings!
I do like that Clay backed out. I mean at least he has a real career that he’s worried about. And if he needs immediate surgery on a wrist, how long does that take?
Please make us shirts. I too would wear the fuck out of that. And buy a few for friends.
Yes – Please, Please, make the shirt!
Also, we should consider setting those lines to music. Opera maybe?
I don’t watch the show, but your recaps are so fab. And your gif game ON POINT.
But I have to admit that what I laughed hardest at this week was this:
And now I have that song in my head. LOLOL Thanks. Thanks a lot.
I took a picture of your description of being a bitch because it is now what I want to be when I grow up. Also, your recaps are awesome! Can’t wait to read more.
I have for a long time now wanted a tee shirt the says on the front “My wife is one Smart Bitch” and on the back has the logo and name for the site.
This is mean, but it has to be embarrassing for an NFL player to break his wrist durIng a casual reality TV game.
And the other dude fell out of his and wound up in the ICU?!! I was kicked out of a top bunk by a fellow top-bunker when I was 8, hit the corner of a side table with my forehead on the way down, and wound up with a nasty headache. But nothing more serious than that except emotional trauma when my parents put me in their bed to keep an eye on me and I woke up to them making out.