Hometowns: the hoop we’re forced to jump through in order to get to the Fantasy Suite. This isn’t news for the initiated, especially considering it’s how every prior season has gone, but I am surprised at how often I forget the mind numbing absurdity of the process. But maybe I shouldn’t be, considering nobody else seems to have much in the way of memory these days.
Let’s start with Raven, because the show did too and that’s good enough for this bookie. She spent most of her interviews panicking about telling Nick she loved him for the first time, conveniently forgetting that she already let that piece of information slip back in New Orleans before Nick handed that date’s rose to someone else. Granted, I’m sure there was a bit of alcohol involved, but I would have expected a PA to intervene and casually mention that they’ve already done this storyline once and maybe they could come up with a new angle.
We followed up the Humdrum in Hoxie by making our way down to the Ft. Worth area, where Rachel seems to have forgotten that even though it’s important be aligned on faith in a relationship, a house of worship is a weird place for a date. Not to be outdone, her sister appeared uninformed that Nick – a living, breathing human and not Luke the War Robot – is the Bachelor, and has not only seen food before, but has also presumably consumed it and is able to identify it.
But the gig keeps getting stranger, because as we followed Nick to Miami we found out that the producers thought all of their viewers might forget that Corinne has spent the entire goddamn season being absolutely terrible. Despite an afternoon that saw the pair sipping champagne as Corinne dropped thousands of dollars on clothes she might wear once, those bastards tried to give her as much of a normcore edit as they possibly could. After shoving every one of her awful qualities down our throats for the past seven weeks, did they really expect us to just shrug it off and say, “Wow, maybe Corinne really isn’t so bad”?
Of course they did. This country elected Trump, after all.
And let’s also not omit the fact that Corinne was bothered by the fact that the girls teased her about Raquel, stating (with over the top eye roll): “They said I had a ‘nanny.’” Look, the champagne flows pretty freely at the mansion, I get it, but Corinne specifically referred to “[her] nanny Raquel” so many goddamn times it’s basically her personal mantra. At least the one thing Corinne didn’t forget is that Corinne likes to talk in the third person.
Finally, there was Vanessa, who appears to be completely unaware of what reality show she’s on. Meeting her special education class (and kudos to her for doing what is truly meaningful work) and running the gamut of her extended family was fairly innocuous, but things got a little dicey with her old man, who is hands down the best person featured on the show this season (narrowly edging out the bayou boat driver). Besides making Nick squirm for the entirety of their visit, he let slip the non-spoiler to Vanessa that not only did Nick ask for his blessing to propose, he asked the blessing of each of the other girls’ fathers as well (minus Mr. Lindsay, who was notably absent with “a work obligation”).
Now, if you were a normal person operating within the boundaries of societal dating norms, you might be upset to find out that a guy asking your father’s blessing for your hand in marriage was also soliciting this approval from other parties. I know I would be. But if you agree to go onto a reality dating show – by choice – in which, during the week of home visitations, the show’s titular character has always asked every girl’s father if he has his permission to propose, you should forfeit the right to get upset about it.
Look, maybe that’s shortsighted of me – and that’s fair, you’re entitled to that opinion – but it’s been such a relatively short amount of time that I was really hoping Vanessa wouldn’t have forgotten where she was: on a television show in which a single solitary guy dates multiple women at once – in front of cameramen, a lighting crew, sound guys, producers, PA, interns, and Chris Harrison whenever he feels like showing up to the set – foregoes sexual relations with anyone until a pre-appointed time where he can bag three of them over the course of a seventy-two hour period, then ultimately discards one woman shortly thereafter so he can propose to one of the two remaining ladies in a location that is generally only accessible by helicopter.
We can’t all have a mind like a steel trap, but if you are a contestant on The Bachelor and aren’t aware that’s what the show is, you either need to start playing Lumosity or you haven’t done your homework. Those’re the only two answers I’ll accept.
To add insult to injury, there wasn’t anything remotely resembling worthwhile betting action this week. I’ve gotten a few calls about leaving Rachel on the winner’s board, the theory being that she could be the last gal standing before giving back the ring, but I’ll take those bets on a case by case basis. You open that kind of line up to the public, and there’ll be people claiming they never even heard the announcement already naming her as the Bachelorette. I don’t have the necessary patience for that amount of bullshit.
And I’m not putting any other names on the board just because Andi Dorfman showed up at the end of the episode. People are showing up on episodes all the goddamn time and it doesn’t mean a thing. Especially when they’ve written books about their experience on the show and have specified that they had zero sexual chemistry with the current Bachelor. But the producers are hoping you forgot about that, too.
Maybe there’ll be something worth laying money on next week. But with the way this season’s going, I wouldn’t bet on it.
Clint Jackson - Reality Bookie 