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Reality Bites: Thoughts on Juan Pablo’s Fantasy Suite Dates

For over 15 seasons of The Bachelor, we’ve been led to believe that when the couple receives that envelope from Chris, and the man and woman decide to forgo their individual rooms for the Fantasy Suite, that what happens there stays there, and what happens is, well, magical (Ed Swiderski ostensibly getting whiskey-dick excluded).  For 15 years, what goes on in that suite is an absolute mystery—we see a little bikini action, a little kiss, some candles, some roses, some chocolate covered strawberries—but we’re left to believe that what happens between the sheets is a flawless sexual experience, akin to steamy Showtime erotica specials that frustratingly never showed full-penetration.

Well tonight that’s all (supposedly) going to change.  The fantasy will be shattered, the illusion of sexual perfection broken beyond repair.  Because for all of us watching at home who’ve mingled genitalia with another (is that what sex is?), we know the first time is awkward, no matter how comfortable you are with that person, no matter how many caves you’ve repelled down, how many helicopter rides/water car rides you’ve gone on, no matter how many South Asian crops you’ve farmed together or “sneaky kisses” you’ve shared—the questions still remain: do you get a condom or does she? do you reassure her after you’ve come in thirty seconds that “I’ll be ready to go in five?” do you go down on each other? Do you ask to do doggystyle or does that totally ruin the whole fantasy suite thing?  Is lube, like, totally out of bounds, here?We’ve broken it down by contestant, into the Bachelor-ready categories of their Fantasy, their Reality, and their Surreality.


The Fantasy: Clare is for all intents and purposes a Barbie doll, so her fantasy involves Juan kissing her neck while they rub against each other like Sims and supposedly have all the pleasurable sensations of sex without any of the bodily fluids, which make, like, such a mess.

The Reality: Clare contracted a yeast infection from having a wet bathing suit on non-stop (see: Watergate), and therefore is unable to have sexual intercourse. Instead she jerks JP off with a rubber glove Animal House-style and wipes him off with discarded rose petals, which proves extremely difficult because, well, they’re rose petals.

The Surreality: In an totally inappropriate cross promotion with ABC’s Resurrection, JP and Clare’s fantasy suite date involves a ghost-like hologram of her father and really confusing Freud-like arousal symptoms.  


The Fantasy: Nikki comes out of the bathroom in her pediatric nurse’s uniform.  “Oh, la la,” Juan says, as Nikki tenderly takes out a bag of Cheetos from her back pocket and begins feeding them to her man so he has the Cheeto breath she’s come to love so much.  Nikki feels self-conscious about dancing and knows she’ll never be as good as Kat, but manages to do a strip tease regardless.  Juan salsas out of his clothes, puts on a neon condom, and the two make passionate love until Nikki’s hair gets so strung out and uncombed that it actually looks better than usual.

The Reality: Nikki is a virgin, and (big surprise) is really anal and controlling about losing her virginity.  Definitely one of those sexual experiences where the girl tries to act totally ok and chill but inside is freaking out because HOLY SHIT THERES SOMETHING GOING INSIDE ME.  It takes Nikki a long time to get past Juan’s uncircumcised genitalia; trying to get him erect, she places her small cold doctor’s office hand on him and tries ye ole stick shift hand job while the two have this conversation back and forth in cadence with the rhythm of her hand:

Juan: “What are you thinking about?”

Nikki: *Wanting to tell him she loves him but unable to stop giggling at the sight of his manlihood*  “So many things.  Is this good?”

After they leave, the producers scamper in and, in an anachronistic, courtly twist, check the sheets to see if JP and Nikki consecrated the fantasy suite.  

The Surreality:  Nikki takes off her clothes and finally reveals her true self to Juan Pablo: she’s a mouse after all, and everyone realizes why her hair was so bad and why she felt like she owned every hotel bed in Southeast Asia.  

“I wonder if—I wonder if he’ll accept the real me,” Nikki the Mouse tells the producers.

“Where do I put it?” wonders Juan Pablo.


The Fantasy: Juan Pablo’s been a bad boy, so Andi takes control in a sexy pant-suit and rocks his world: justice is served.

The Reality: Juan Pablo lies back, expecting an “oral argument.”  But Andi, in stereotypical JAP fashion, refuses to go down on him.  Frustrated, they start intercoursing.  But they have an argument about what intercoursing actually means—Andi thinks it’s talking, while Juan struggles to understand why they’re even having this discussion, or any discussion for that matter.  Juan engages Andi in sex, and she relents.  It lasts for about five minutes, during which Andi has an epiphany that she’d have a better chance at orgasming from exporting Juan back to Venezuela than from this so-called sexual experience.

The Surreality: Andi and Juan Pablo stay up all night talking, kissing, canoodling, lightly petting, planning for the future.  The editors take their banter and edit it to make it seem dramatic—you know, a blurred mouth/bleep here and a distress balcony look there— and set up Andi Dorfman as the first ever Jewish Bachelorette from Atlanta.

Guess Who? Meet Parents, The: Hometown Date Predictions


Yes, the title of our post is as equally inadequate grammatically as much of what Juan Pablo says, but it also takes two semi-popular movies that involve people introducing their significant other to their families, and if we know pop culture blogs (and we think we do) we know that the amount of random movie references is proportionally relative to how cool your blog is.  

This round of hometown dates promises to be at least as exciting and half as racist as Bernie Mac and Ashton Kutcher in that awesome remake of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?”; and maybe one of the bachelorettes will end her steady career and pose for Playboy (here’s lookin’ at you Teri Polo, you fox you…)

So here’s a little rundown of some predictions for tonight:

Nikki: Kansas City Confusion

In Kansas City, we’ll finally figure out where Nikki’s “I’m one way with the girls and another way with Juan Pablo” duplicitous attitude comes from. An innocent question from Juan Pablo— “But why is it called Kansas City if it’s in Missouri?”—will be all it takes to set Nikki off.  For like any young Kansas City native, she’s torn between her part-Missourian, part-Kansas attitudes.  

By the time she takes him to meet her family, they’ll both be so confused geographically that they’ll knock on the wrong door a couple times, finally showing up an hour late, wondering whether they’re on eastern or central standard time.  

But enough geography jokes.  We here at Bro Bachelor blog have a sneaking suspicion that Nikki’s family is actually mice and/or The Borrowers (you know, those little people who go around “borrowing” things—which, now that I think about it, just sort of seems like stealing—like, does it not count if you’re just really really small and promise you’ll give it back?).  The reveal of her small cute family of low-key robbers will set off a flurry of metaphors:

Nikki: “Juan, I feel like I’m just borrowing you.  I want to own you.”

Nikki’s dad when Juan tells him he really things Nikki is amasing: “You can borrow little tidbits—a button here, a thumbell there, a teabag over there, a little grain of white powder—but you can’t borrow my Nikki’s heart.”

Juan Pablo *walking out of the house and tripping* : “Where are my fucking shoelaces?”

Andi: Oy vay, or How to Introduce Your Venezuelan Reality TV semi-boyfriend to your Jewish Parents

Step 1: Shoes off!!!! You better not track your filthy cleats all over the white carpet!!!

Step 2: Tell Juan Pablo to only wear his best V-neck (chest hair encouraged).

Step 3: Make sure Juan Pablo knows that Jews are a religious people, not the plural form of the adjective “ew

Step 4: If grandma/Bubbie is there, just tell him to lightly salsa dance in front of her until she giggles, puts her hand over her mouth, and starts muttering in Russian.

Step 5: When they ask what he does for a living for god’s sake don’t tell them his office is in a baseball stadium

Step 6: Whatever you do, do not mention the Horrah.  Juan Pablo will take any chance he has to showcase his dance moves, but he definitely won’t get the whole chair thing.  

Step 7: Pray they don’t ask his opinion on Israel.

Clare: Sex, Lies, and Videotape

Juan Pablo will head to Sacramento for his last hometown date, which will be overshadowed by the fact that Clare has a very special DVD to show him.     To Juan Pabo’s dismay, it’s neither Bend it Like Beckham or Finding Nemo (“no fishies?” Juan asks, crestfallen).  Instead, it’s a DVD Clare’s father made her before he died, and never imagined would be shown to an ex-club promoter who has already slut-shamed his daughter, much less the ENTIRE world.  

Clare and Juan Pablo will watch the DVD in silence, on the DVD player Clare keeps around for just this purpose.  A tense silence will settle in around them, like fog.  Clare will press play.  Her father’s voice, his face, will come to life on screen.  Clare, understandably so, will be taken aback by his presence.  And Juan Pablo will hug her close, silently chastising himself for not buying Sno-Caps before hand.  

Afterwards, Clare and Juan will share an emotional moment, by which we mean she will have an emotional moment while JP watches and nods, like a frat dude at an art museum.  Clare, in her weakened emotional state, will mistake this as a deep connection.  The whole thing is sort of like when you took a girl to the movies in 8th grade because you didn’t want to talk to her but still wanted to spend time with her away from your parents: it gives you a dark, quiet room to make out in, despite being surrounded by other people (in this case, a large national tv-viewing audience), and the scarier the movie the more passionate and “sneaky” the kisses feel.  

Renee: Sleepless in Sarasota

The date will probably go along fine until Juan meets Ben and hits it off with the 8 year old over a mutual appreciation of spaghetti-o’s and Ben’s upcoming field trip to the zoo.  Renee will be relegated to her usual role as mommy, replenishing the pair with Capri Suns and freshly peeled seedless tangerines; later, a sexy Juan will disrobe so that Renee can wash the grass stains out of his jeans that he got while “playing outside.”

But things will get tense when Renee tries to introduce Juan to her parents, only to hear Juan whining about not being able to sit at the kids table with Ben and eat chicken fingers and salad with lettuce and croutons and extra Parmesan cheese.  

At the end of the date, Ben, scribbling outside the lines of his Spider Man color book because he’s “abstract expressionist” like that, will pontificate aloud to his mother, wondering if “maybe Sharleen wasn’t right…I mean, I know that Mr. Pablo is athletic and good looking and all mother, but perhaps you need a man more suited to your intellectual agility, someone who appreciates the finer things in life like a ‘74 Bourdeaux and a good Godard film—fuck, I had to explain Wall-E to him, he totally didn’t get the Chaplin-esque overtones or silent-film era symbolism.”

Photo credit: Abc.com

Episode 5 Recap of Only the Important Stuff: The Vietnamese Dong is on the Rise


Ahh Vietnam.  Just saying the word conjures up images of underground tunnels littered with landmines, bloodshed and opium, that scene in The Deer Hunter where Christopher Walken goes apeshit playing consecutive rounds of Russian Roulette….  

But forget all that.  This is The Bachelor.  On The Bachelor, Vietnam is romantic.  Why? Because “they” said so.  And because it has impoverished street vendors and cute locals with funny pointy hats, an ostensibly clean body of water and an old bridge.  It’s just The Bachelor’s next stop on a tour whose goal seems to be as much about making two people fall in love while bonding over rare foods as to rewrite its viewers collective cultural image of all of Southeast Asia.  

“It’s the perfect setting to fall in love,” Renee says.  Even the Vietnamese roll their eyes: “Just try actually living here.”

Renee and JP walk around the village (city? town? shanty?), hand-in-hand, stopping to check out the cheap wares that will soon end up in their respective children’s Happy Meals. “Look at this open air market,” they say in sweaty amazement, unaware that everywhere else but America an open air market is simply called the market.  

Soon enough, Juan Pablo has a surprise for Renee: she gets to pick out whichever traditional Vietnamese dress she wants from the Vietnamese equivalent of an amusement park gift store.  Renee feigns shock, which isn’t difficult because she’s sweating profusely.  As the Vietnamese women measure her bust (to the delight of a giggling Juan Pablo) and try on dresses, no bachelorette has ever appeared so Jewish.  But ultimately Renee succumbs to the pressure and puts on the goddamn dress, while Juan Pablo rushes out to get her a cheap plastic fan he probably stole from some Japanese chick in the market, who, looking around, utters, “what the fuck am i doing in Vietnam?”

Renee, unbearably easy to please, gushes about how thoughtful Juan Pablo is. Apparently, nobody’s ever done anything nice for her ever.  The last gift she got from her son was a booger and vomit in his room.  

At dinner, Renee dons the dress and Juan Pablo tells us how much he likes her, how they’re both single parents—how they understand each other.  Still, he refuses to kiss Renee, keeping his kiss-quota firm at a solid six.

(Andi “I put 7 guys in prison in one day” Dorfman would probably argue that just because you don’t kiss seven girls doesn’t mean that you haven’t already kissed six, but since she’s one of the six she can, like all the rest of them, fume privately to the other girls until she kisses him again and forgets about it for a minute.)

But Andi isn’t on this date, so back in Vietnam Renee looks on desperately, with an unrequited glint in her eye.  Maybe Juan Pablo can smell her desperation.  Or else her body odor, because it’s like a billion degrees and humid as shit next to this river-swamp, and no way the women’s carcinogen-free deodorant Renee purchased is equipped to handle this type of heat/sweat combo.  Ironically, Juan Pablo probably won’t kiss Renee because she’s the only girl who hasn’t lost her mind yet, and not kissing her is the only thing that will make her lose her mind.  When Renee gets the rose, the look on her face is eerily familiar to the gaze that occupies girls faces after i’ve slept with them—crestfallen, half-fulfilled, and most of all, confused—but unlike Renee, they’re left not wanting more, and are totally unwilling to put a candle in some little latern boat thingy on an old bridge because that’s the sort of thing you do in Asia, ok?!?!?!

On the group date, Juan delves headfirst into the history of the United States’ involvement in Vietnam—you know, domino theory, Saigon, the Gulf of Tonkin, the horrific loss of life…Wait, no, nevermind, this is The Bachelor, where war doesn’t exist and the only problem people think about when they think of Vietnam is whether to eat Pho with a fork or spoon or chopsticks or both.  

Instead, they’ll partake in traditional Vietnamese activities, the first of which involves meandering down a river on a circular wooden raft.  “It’s just like the lazy river at Timber Ridge Lodge and Grand Geneva!” Every six year old forced to watch with their parents exclaims.  Indeed, this is the type of activity poor 3rd world natives do for work, and that 1st world tourists do in order to feel like poor, 3rd world natives…or no, wait, nevermind, they just do it for fun, praying to god they won’t accidentally touch a band-aid drifting along in the water.

All the girls pair up, except for Clare, demonstrating perfectly the logic behind hot girl bitchiness.  Lucky for Clare, her despicability and overall craziness works to her advantage, and she gets to ride with Juan Pablo.  “Sneaky kisses” ensue.  One can’t help but wonder if “sneakiness” is a subtle jab at traditional Vietnamese war tactics.   

Later, Juan Pablo takes the girls to a farm.  “They should have these in the U.S,” Cassandra says before immediately correcting herself.  “Oh, that’s what those big fields are for!”

After the girls find out they’ll be cooking what they’ve just farmed (or, as Cassandra put it, “picked out at the leaf store”) Chelsie acknowledges: “We’re gonna have, like, a real meal here.”  

“Ew, real,” Clare mutters to her imaginary friend.

But you can’t stop the realness—the meal is replete with “real Vietnamese people,” who sandwich Juan Pablo in matching brown robes, itching to get back inside so they can watch Jake Pavelka’s season, which is only now airing.

Meanwhile, Andi is complaining about her lack of one-on-one time while kneeling in dirt, wondering why she even went to law school.

Later on, the girls attempt to correctly balance their serious/fun level.  For every make out, a sobering life story; for every outgoing dance move, a touching evocation of the idyllic love their parents had for each other.  This is, after all, The Bachelor, where you have to be fun and serious, able to let go but also have something sad in your past to share in order to prove your worth/authenticity as a human being; you have to be three dimensional without being “one person with us, and another with him.”  

Sharlene, as one of the Kissed Six fails to be serious enough, and just makes out instead, this time only somewhat awkwardly.  Her hunt for the “perfect spot” was oddly reminiscent of a dog sniffing around choosing a place to poop.  There’s no rhyme or reason, but when you know you know.  And you know that Sharleen knows less idiomatic phrases than Juan when she asks him if she’s “the panda bear amongst all these black bears,” which could be read as racist if there were any black girls remaining who (lookin’ at you Danielle) just don’t get airtime to state, “I’m confused” —which, now that I think of it, is sort of racist.

After the date is over, Clare is still bubbling with excitement.  In a continuation of the afternoon’s sneakiness, Clare decides to break the rules and visit JP at his suite.  (Although breaking the rules on The Bachelor is a lot like Senior Ditch Day—everyone knows you’re gonna do it, there are no repercussions from the authorities, and it almost always leads to throwing up on someone’s feet in the bleachers at a major league baseball stadium).  That The Bachelor is all about rules, affirmations of those rules, and rituals designed to maintain the structure the rules provide, only serves to make rule breaking all the more exciting.  The ingenuity of The Bachelor is that it purposely codifies and perpetuates the rules—repeating the same ones season after season—to such an extent that even though we know they’re breakable, viewers and participants are still shocked every time it happens.  In short, the show manufactures an element of surprise—reality tv’s equivalent of sleight-of-hand (-job) (pun intended as usual).  

As waves clash against their writhing bodies, Clare and Juan grope and kiss and maybe do some under the pants stuff.  No doubt, Juan Pablo was wishing he didn’t have horrible swamp butt right now.  And watching at home, Camilla asks: “What’s Daddy and that girl doing in the ocean?” To which a jaded L.A. babysitter responds blithely: “Filming Blue Crush 3.”   “There was a Blue Crush 2?” Camille retorts.  But by now the babysitter’s fallen into a xanax-induced haze, leaving Camilla to logically assume that his father and that crazy blond lady were simply searching for seashells in each others pants.  

Only after showering and slipping into bed next to Chelsie does Clare, staring wistfully at the ceiling as if it contained some sort of sign, realize “she’s a real woman now.”  Back at his hotel room, Juan Pablo takes a cold shower and removes any residual seashells from every possible bodily orifice.  

The next morning, Juan Pablo goes diving into a cave with Nikki.  “Been there, done that, am I right?” he exclaims, extending a pound to Chris Harrison.  Harrison shakes his head disparagingly.  “Not like this,” he mutters.  “Not like this.”   

At the pre-rose ceremony get-kinda-tipsy party, Clare makes a toast she’d soon live to regret: “Cheers to finding love, being loved, and making love.” The girls ooh and ahh conspiratorially, but little do they know that Clare has already “made love” to The Bachelor—although, to be fair, surreptitiously boning in an ocean while millions of people watch at home can hardly be considered “making love,” even by Clare’s evidently low, low standards for what qualifies as human intimacy.  

Soon after the cocktail party begins, Juan Pablo pulls Clare off to the side to discuss what Clare considered “making love” and what Juan Pablo probably crassly considered as *giggles, winks, mumbles something indiscernible in Spanglish.*  

In bro language, Juan is the dude who just used this girl for sex and now wants nothing to do with her, and Clare is the chick with major trust/daddy issues who, after seeking constant reassurance that “this is for real” and that “you like me, you really like me,” allows herself to partake in what will inevitably be regrettable coitus.  Except on The Bachelor, Juan is the victim, and Clare is the provocateur.  JP, after all, has a child at home to think about—but even Camilla, with her pre-school education and rudimentary knowledge of building blocks, could see that she’s just being used as a pawn in the game called love.  In a subversion of normal Bachelor motifs, it’s not the girls we suspect are here for the wrong reasons—it’s Juan Pablo we suspect of being a father for the wrong reasons.  Ingrained within the world of the show, fatherhood has become a trope symbolic of trustworthiness and seriousness, a readiness to settle down and start a “real” family.  But, like any trope that enters the televisual context, it’s become a toxic cliche, something JP can manipulate to aver his innocence and make innocent, vulnerable girls like Clare believe they’ve done something shameful.  It continues to baffle us here at Bro Bachelor Blog that women even continue to watch the show at all, as it so clearly reinforces outdated sociocultural norms that seek to condemn female sexuality, and, in doing so, empower men.  

All of which goes to show: you can’t underestimate the power of roses, the glass slipper, a prince’s sweet kiss.  Even if that prince’s sweet kiss is really awkward oceanic thrusting and unwelcome butt-play.  

Read more about this episode here.

Photo credit: abc.com

Apocalypse Plow: What Really Happened Between Clare and Juan Pablo in Vietnam


Since last week’s episode, Bachelor Nation has had one question on their mind: just what happened out their in ocean off the coast of Vietnam?

Everyone seems to think that some sort of “sex” happened, but how do we know there was penetration?   What sort of effect does this have on our perception of Juan Pablo?  For instance, could we really blame him for accepting a hand job (here’s lookin’ at you, other single dad Bachelor Jason Meznick, who ended up marrying Molly “I give hand-jobs to single dads in tents” Meznick)?  For everyone who’s not a freak of nature (a.k.a Sean “V-necks are synonymous with saving yourself for marriage” Lowe), the sexual frustration must be imp/ex-plosive.  In what other scenario do you take chicks on romantic dates in other countries and not ejaculate in or around them?  

So, with that said, we here at Bro Bachelor blog have some odds on what might’ve actually gone down:

1,000,000,000:1 “Should we stop and get a condom?”

100:1 “They said the Dong was on the rise, but I didn’t know it would get this high!” Because no way does Clare know that Vietnamese currency is called Dong.

75:1 “Come on, Clare.  Just the tip.  Just for a minute.  Just to see how it feels.”

50:1 JP actually put his penis in Clare’s vagina.

40:1: Clare: “I always knew my first time would be on a beach in ‘nam”

35:1: Clare: “Well I’ve already put octopus in my mouth for love…”

30:1 JP poked around the wrong hole and Clare got water up her tushie.

25:1 “Come on, JP.  Just the tip.  Just for a minute.  Just to see how it feels.”

10:1 JP makes an ill-timed starfish innuendo.

7:1: “Have you ever seen Blue Crush with Kate Bosworth?  This is kinda like that minus the surfing and Michelle Rodriguez.”

4:1 JP made an ill-timed “starfish” innuendo.

3:1: Hand Job, heavy petting, dry humping.

2:1 They dry humped for like 30 seconds and Juan creamed his suit (which really makes the most sense—aren’t we all ashamed of premature ejaculation? Especially seeing the girl the next day and she’s all happy and makes a toast about “making love” but hesitates just a second before saying “making love” which you obviously read as “oh, like, two seconds didn’t really count?”  and you just feel like a fraud because in no way could you have possibly pleased her sexually?  And so you just want to make out with Renee? Right? Right?)

1:1 “This is surreal.”

Read the full recap of this episode here.

Photo credit: abc.com

Episode 3 Recap of Only The Important Stuff: Ahhh Going Crazy!!!!


It’s week 3 on The Bachelor, and you bros know what that means: it’s time to separate the men from the boys a.k.a the crazy chicks from the chicks too mentally vacant to go crazy.  

Chris Harrison, fresh off of whatever he does for the 6 days and 22 hrs he spends not hosting The Bachelor, strides in and announces that this week, there will be two individual dates, as well as a group date.  In a subconscious visual metaphor/shout-out to Rothko, which our humble host couldn’t possibly be held responsible for consciously asserting, Harrison’s monochrome blue shirt—two similar shades of blue, one light, one deep—signifies the ladies’ journey, which is on the cusp of becoming deeper.  Or otherwise promptly severed in half.  

“On a scale of one to ten, I am level fifteen ready to get out of the house,” Nikki says, and Sharleen feels like a moron for a few moments before saying she was a mere level 9 excited (“Or maybe closer to 8.5.”)  Unfortunately, Nikki isn’t leaving quite yet—the date card bears Cassandra’s name instead, along with this maxim recycled from a previous season: “Love is a wild ride.”

Juan Pablo cruises up to the mansion in a suspiciously colorful jeep and non v-neck t-shirt.  Cassandra says, “I haven’t been on a date since I was 18 years old,” because getting railed in the Away team locker room by Meta World Peace obviously doesn’t count.   JP, though, ever-insightful, gauges her discomfort, and resolves it the only way he knows how: salsa music and not talking that much.

Driving along the coast, Cassandra notices the yacht and asks if they’ll be going on a boat.  Juan Pablo takes this as proof that Cassandra “loves the water,” though she could just be nervous because she’s a fembot and might explode if she actually had to get wet.  And because JP wants to “give her what she wants” he immediately pulls off the road onto the sand, and, to everyone’s surprise, into the water.  Instead of having a nightmarish flashback to that Simon Birch bus scene like most normal people, Cassandra relishes giddily in the stunt.  Evidently, she trusts Juan Pablo enough to not allow her to drown, or seriously believes Transformers are a real thing.

As the jeep magically turns into a motorboat and speeds away into the horizon, several pedestrians observing the scene convivially point, drop their jaws, and shit themselves.  Savvy viewers at home nod their head in a collective  “aha” moment, realizing that garishly expensive props like these are the reason ABC could only afford to book shaggy no-name X-factor rejects for their private concerts.  The military also has a collective “aha” moment, finally realizing what that car/boat thing was meant for.

“I thought it was a car,” Cassandra admits sheepishly afterwards.  “But now I’m thinking it’s from the movies.” If only she understood how ironic this sounded!  (But let’s not go jumping to conclusions that Cassandra understands irony.)

After the yacht party, Juan invites Cassandra over to his house for some pasta.  “Camila is with my parents for the night,” Juan Pablo says, suggesting that romance and his pasta go hand in hand.  No one has the balls to ask who the hell Camilla is with every other night.

“I definitely have a connection with Juan Pablo,” Cassandra confesses, watching Juan Pablo with her mouth agape as he manages to operate a stove, boil water, and put the pasta in until it’s edible.  “I’m surprised.  I am.”  

To Cassandra’s credit, Juan seems to be feeling it, too.  And is it just us, or does JP seem to have a thing for the introverted, shy, withdrawn, and/or slightly uncomfortable girls?  First Sharleen, then Kelly—who was so insecure she had to bring her fucking dog —and now Cassandra, who looks like Brody’s wife from Homeland but without any of the emotional or pyscho-sexual depth?  Let’s just say old club promoting habits die hard…

For the next date, Juan takes a group of twelve girls to the arena where the L.A. Galaxy play.  In doing so, they just slightly beat the Galaxy’s previous single-game record attendance, though only because half the team begged their parents to, like, please not come.  

“God, this is gonna be a poor display of athleticism on my part,” Andi says.  Good thing Juan isn’t judging his future wife and stepmother to his child on soccer-playing abilities.  Oh wait, he is!!! Too bad for Andi.  At least Alli’s mom had the common sense to sign Alli up for AYSO fifteen years ago, should her value as a romantic prospect ever be evaluated solely on how well she could dribble through cones sometime in the distant future.

After the match, which was unremarkable except for the fact Sharleen kept getting hit in the head like a nerd, all the ladies gathered round to talk, look, and comment nervously on the one girl getting one-on-one time with Juan Pablo.  The first, Nikki, is obviously anxious and quite possibly losing her mind, which doesn’t bode well for her because there’s already a hot blonde chick in the house slowly losing her mind, AND HER NAME IS CLARE.

Later, Juan Pablo makes out in the back room of a concession stand with Andi.  “That’ll be eight dollars,” remarks a lonely concession stand employee, laughing self-consciously at his own lame joke.

Finally, JP lounges on a blanket in the center of the field with Sharleen, who describes their chemistry in the most droll way possible.  What follows is an extremely awkward, somewhat arousing kiss: JP goes in, Sharleen parries, and then they sort of go at it, with what seems like a healthy amount of tongue and analytical thinking, and all of a sudden her career as an opera singer makes sense.  Sixth grade boys everywhere cheer because they’re better at kissing; as a reward, they treat themselves to two extra hours navigating boobs.com, because, bless their hearts, they haven’t gotten creative.  Only later will they find out that every sixth grade girl in their class is no longer putting out because Sharleen really fucking blew it for everyone.  

Yet, for us bros, we have to admit that, with her dark red lipstick, low cut white dress, and her pre-pubescent kissing skills (“Gotta go back to the drawing board…and by drawing board I mean the inside of my forearm…”) we’re finding ourselves more and more attracted to Sharleen—for experienced kissers (or just normal people), there’s something nostalgic about her.  She’s like the sexual equivalent of getting called into the principal’s office and being tempted to laugh while he gives you a stern talking to.  At this point, Juan Pablo’s probably keeping her around out of curiosity. If she makes it to the fantasy suite, she’ll probably give one hell of a stick shift HJ.

“It both surprises and bothers me how much I care,” Sharleen says when Juan Pablo gives the rose to Nikki instead of her.  Not only is this the most profoundly self-aware thing any Bachelorette has said ever, it’s also exactly how we at the Bro Bachelor Blog feel every time we forgo important stuff like job applications, homework, or ordinary human interaction/intimacy in order to sit down and consciously write this blog.

Back at the mansion, the date card arrives for Chelsie.  Elise is heartbroken and surprised.  Chelsie, Elise thinks, despite only being a few years younger than herself, is too young to be a mother for Juan Pablo.  “But she’s a science educator!” her fourth grade class screams, glue on their fingers and chocolate all over their mouths.  But their pleas fall on deaf ears. Literally, the substitute teacher Chelsie left them with is deaf.

After downing some Venezualan street food on the first part of their date, Chelsie and JP naturally head straight for the bridge for some tandem bungie jumping.

“I have never jumped off a large object before,” Chelsie says skittishly.  Well well well, obviously Chelsie’s never fallen in love!

After much deliberation, Chelsie and JP take the proverbial leap, but only after he gives her a chance to opt out.  

“Giving me both options really made me feel like I trust him,” Chelsie says, oblivious at this point that almost everyone who’s ever jumped off anything usually has the option not to.  

Of course, once Chelsie feels she’s able to trust Juan Pablo, she decides she’s ready to jump off a bridge with him, which makes absolutely no sense given there’s no way “trust” will save her if, say, the ropes break and they’re free falling headfirst into the water.  But that’s the criminally unique genius of The Bachelor: offering the illusion that a successful tandem bungie jump relies not on the pedigree of trained professionals with awful facial hair and a sick harness riding up his crotch, but on mutual trust cultivated primarily through adrenaline, champagne, and the base aphrodisiacal qualities of cheap Venezualan food.

Climactic music ensues as the two potential lovers leap off the bridge; hanging there, Juan goes in for the upside down kiss, if only because he literally has NOWHERE ELSE TO MOVE HIS FACE.  On top of a building in a bustling no-name metropolis, Spiderman shoots his eyes out with his own web.

Later, Chelsie and JP sort of dance to the country-music stylings of Billy Currington.  Chelsie appears to be mouthing the words, which is surprising because even my Shazam shrugged and was like “fuck if i know,” before sulking in the corner of my iPhone, right next to the pulsing Tinder icon.  

The next day, Juan Pablo surprises the girls by coming by the mansion early in the morning to prepare breakfast.

“No make up.  No hair done.  It’s real life,” Juan Pablo proclaims.  Indeed, on a scale of one to real, this is some level fifteen shit.  

Kelly is the first to come downstairs and notice the bachelor in her kitchen.  She walks by with her hand over her face.  If that move looks familiar, it’s probably because you’ve seen it before in the middle school hallway, walking by the girl you just had a 3-hour marathon AIM convo with last night but to whom you’ve never actually spoken in person.  

After breakfast, Juan decides it’s time for a pool party (if nothing else, this episode certainly tested the women’s digestive systems).  Kat has big boobs, and some other girls have big boobs too.  There’s no joke here, we just thought that was worth mentioning.  

It’s also worth mentioning that being the Bachelor (capital “B”) means having all the girls displace the anger they feel towards you for not giving them attention onto other girls, all the while crying about it to girls (we’re lookin’ at you Renee) who are also trying to fuck the guy you’re crying over.  In a massive role reversal not seen since Juno was sorta popular, Clare is the victim of Sharleen being a bitch and getting all the attention.  But the best part about being the Bachelor is that you’re the victim too—marking the only time in the history of man where girls feel bad for the fact that you’re cheating on them with other girls.  

Anyway, Lucy and some other chick get sent home. Next week’s episode promises to showcase an oriental city and expose a variety of racial and ethnic stereotypes for the viewing pleasure of Americans who just wanna see Juan Pablo and some bimbo bond over unorthodox street food at a crowded open-air market.

And because one Simon Birch clip just wasn’t enough, here’s the eponymous dwarf incidentally killing his teammate’s mother with a foul ball.  Tragedy or Farce?!?!?! You decide.

Photo Credit: abc.com

Episode 2 Recap of Only the Important Stuff: Surprise! Everyone’s Surprised How Many Surprises There Are!


Week two of the Juan Pablo’s aventura journey extravaganza begins with a dog in the pool and Clare getting ready for the first one on one date.  “This is surreal,” she says, “I never go on dates,” so from the get go we know that she is (UN?)familiar with Dali and has quite possibly never had sex.  And considering that the date card simply reads, “Let’s chill,” she probably doesn’t expect much more than a bong hit, Juan’s favorite Pixar movie and that new nacho thing they’re advertising at Taco Bell.  

The card is the first of the many words Juan Pablo won’t be speaking in this episode, and reminds every girl in the house that despite the fact that they’re on national television, the pick up lines are the same as when chicks ask that drunk guy outside the bar spilling his gin and tonic all over himself what exactly he thinks they’ll be doing at his place if they decide to come over. 

As Clare leaves the house, Juan puts her in a blindfold and the only resident of Forty Fort proclaims that she “can’t believe her eyes” and “that was crazy”—evidently Elise has never seen a pinata.  

And just when you were beginning to think “let’s chill” couldn’t possibly be taken literally, you’re wrong, because, of course, JP is taking Clare to their very own winter wonderland.  And just when you were beginning to get around to the fact that “let’s chill” was to be taken literally, we’re reminded that this is The Bachelor, and it’s in L.A., and “let’s chill” is now like a quadruple entendre. Just imagine the elation in the production meeting when someone came up with this fucking layer cake of puns! Clare changes her mind and decides that a fake winter wonderland in the middle of L.A. isn’t surreal, but “unreal” and gets figurative “shivers.”   Needless to say, Clare’s body is ill-equipped to handle punditry of such a high order.

Back at the house, Lucy is topless in the pool, prompting speculation as to whether she just likes being naked or simply doesn’t own clothes.  Elise “can’t believe her eyes” again, and you have to wonder if she’s the type of person who giggles every time someone says the word “penis.”  Since they don’t have the luxury of the black censorship bars employed for viewers at home, everyone else goes looking for blindfolds.  Lucy, oblivious, says she actually wants the group date, because, like, wanting a one on one date is like, soooo mainstream.  

Soon enough, we’re back at what we all imagine ice skating in Central Park would be like before we get there and realize that there’s a four hour line, the skates cost $23 to rent, and a homeless guy pooped on the ice.  Clare is busy making her list and checking it twice (“having a blast…check…hilarious…check”) for the two things that she needs in order to fall madly in love.  Santa, watching with Mrs. Clause in the North Pole, gets up, kicks a reindeer, and sinks into an existential crisis, wondering what the world has come to and if his role in it has any meaning.  But for Clare, it’s all a “fairy tale.”  She says she “hasn’t felt this alive because of a man” and feminists everywhere give up on feminism, conceding, “We just can’t compete with this shit.”  Juan looks at her and thinks about whether or not he should go see Frozen in 3D, but soon enough she’s “100% open to opening up” and is telling Juan Pablo about her dead father while giving a back massage, making it the most uncomfortable massage since Amy J. whipped out a massage table all the way back in week one.  Meanwhile, Juan Pablo wonders if now is a good time for an erection, or if it’s just too fucking complicated.

Anyways, Juan’s not really getting what Clare is saying, so she uses a visual metaphor of herself as an “Ice Queen” prompting everyone to think of Narnia, or otherwise Meryl Streep (“Oh, Meryl!”).  In her next interview, it’s like the lion, the witch, and the new winter-themed wardrobe, as Clare sports a new fur-lined coat.  Juan gives her the rose, sealing it with a sensual embrace.  Watching at home, Sean Lowe slowly removes his v-neck tee shirt and sings ‘Juan and Clare sitting in a tree,” while Catherine refuses for the umpteenth time to go any further than second base.  Clare says, “You taste like snow,” which would be romantic if the laws of science didn’t dictate that snow was just another form of water.

Just when things were getting more and more “unreal” music starts playing and it’s “surreal” again, prompting everyone at home to wonder whether it’s surreal because there’s a private one on one concert on The Bachelor or whether it’s surreal that some producer consciously decided, “you know what, why don’t we get Josh Krajcik to play this concert?” Anyway, it’s a relatively big break for the guy who was too fat for the role of Llewen Davis.  As it starts to snow, Clare can’t help but say that “this is just the tip of the iceberg.” Fast forward to the fantasy suite date, where Juan Pablo uses the same line for a completely different reason.

Back at the house, Kat, who was assuredly not hot in high school, is getting ready to “feel the electricity” without thinking too much about wrongful death penalty sentences.  Juan sweeps her off onto a private jet.  “Where are we going?” she wonders, the thought of a sweaty neon-filled rave in Salt Lake City never even crossing her mind.  And despite the surprise, Kat dons her neon, partly because she still has no idea what the fuck is going on, and finally doesn’t feel that left out feeling she felt every time she wasn’t invited to a Sweet Sixteen.  Next thing we know, Juan and Kat are the only ones not rolling face,  and she feels left out all over again.  Even with excessive pink eye shadow and some intense front-grinding, the medical sales rep looks like she could use a Xanax.  She’s “excited, nervous, anxious, giddy” and looking for more adjectives that mean the same thing.

Juan Pablo’s next date card showcases his ability to use idioms in English that involves cheese.  Chantal remarks that “we were drooling” in the limo on the way to meet Juan, and back home Molly the dog whines and humps a pillow, fearful of what humans have become.  

At the photo shoot, one of the girl genius’s points out “I think this is going to be a photo shoot.”  Juan introduces them to Bluebeard’s gay uncle, Bluegoatee (You know you like it), and the fact that he’s Juan’s creative director makes everyone who saw Mad Men and thought being a creative director would be “pretty chill” want to gouge their eyes out, start drinking a lot of Scotch, and inappropriately fingerbang chicks in bathrooms.  

The girls learn they’ll be modeling for a good cause, PUPPIES! and everyone at Abc sighs a deep sigh of relief knowing that, if nothing else, half the viewers at home went “awwwww.”  The representatives of Models and Muts and the other guy get five seconds of airtime to explain their cause, ostensibly due to contractual obligations.  Somewhere, Sarah McLachlan sighs in relief, hoping against hope this will take some pressure off that super depressing dog commercial.   

Chantal’s dog is black and Lucy is a fire hydrant until Elise, who lives in Forty Fort with the rest of the first grade class and doesn’t know what sex is, asks to switch.  Fortunately, Lucy is more than willing to get naked; unfortunately, several mutts are like fuck this.  

Andi, the girl “who brought a one-piece for goodness sake!” on the other hand, can’t get out of it.  For the twentieth time, we’re reminded that she “sends people to jail” every day for a living, and twelve former prisoners immediately lock themselves in the bathroom, muttering over and over again, “That’s one cold bitch, that’s one cold bitch.”  

The photo shoot ends, and everyone goes to a rooftop pool so that Juan can take advantage of taking girls to locations with breathtaking views.  We find out Cassandra has a son, and Juan and Renee trade off saying different versions of “This is fun” while talking as close as they can to each other without kissing.   

Victoria, meanwhile, is drunk and giving Americans everywhere license to think of Brazil as full of Long Island sorority girls, where the government mandates frequent “straddling” of people and things.  Renee gets to act like a mommy, and the producer with a big beard gets to be that level headed dude at the party who doesn’t drink and is just, like, really chill but actually being totally condescending, you know?  Victoria reaches the ultimate low when Lucy gets Juan Pablo and tells him that Victoria is acting crazy.  Juan reluctantly checks out the bathroom but at this point we know it’s lights out for the Brazilian.  Kelly gets the rose, but no one cares because they’re all freaking out about Victoria as if they’d never been to college.  

At the rose ceremony, fresh off a hotel visit to Victoria, who, true to her sorority girl form, has a hard time getting a genuine apology out of her mouth, Juan Pablo plays victim in the situation and Amy says that “he seems so real.”  She later does a whole reporting shpiel that is so good Juan Pablo simply forgets she’s a bachelorette.

Sharleen saw Amy Adams in “American Hustle” and thought that she too would be way hotter and maybe a little less awkward if she showed a lot of side boob: she wasn’t not right.  The word “pressure” gets thrown around and she starts to look more and more Asian.  

Clare plays jealous early front runner, Cassandra is emotional parent, and Renee is older emotional parent with more confidence.  One of the cameramen went to film school and so shoots Juan and Cassandra from a slit in the bathroom door, hoping to get back at all his friends who called him a sell out.  

Juan reassures her Cassandra by giving her the first rose. Danielle has no curls and still manages to look a lot like that concerned coroner in Law and Order SVU.  Amy doesn’t understand why she didn’t get a rose, Christy doesn’t understand why she did, and Elise doesn’t understand why the sky is blue, not some other color like green or purple.

Oh, and if Lucy is right for Juan’s daughter, then Camilla should contact the DCFS pronto.

Mommy Watch Week 2: Because we’re bros and we love our mommies, OKAY?

Each week, we’ll keep an eye on the best and worst potential mommies for Juan Pablo’s daughter Camilla. Maybe she’s a strong, independent woman with the eyebrows of Susan B. Anthony.  Or maybe she just loves cutting crust off sandwiches.  Either way, one lucky lady just might be Juan Pablo’s future foreverslam, guiding little Camilla down the Georgia O’Keefe vagina painting that is womanhood.  And maybe she’ll be able to help JP from saying things like, “you read a lot” too.

Sharleen—Opera Singer/German/inexplicably serious/wait, is she asian?


Mommy or MILF: More MILF than Mommy, in an corporate-office-fantasy sort of way.

At Sharleen’s request, Juan Pablo ships Camilla off to boarding school where…wait. for it…none other than Sharleen herself serves as the austere headmistress/in-house opera singer.  Rigid structure and cruel punishments ensue.  We’re talking Catholic-school rulers and tushy-spankings.  Camilla develops magical powers, and a relationship with the school’s science educator, Chelsie, with whom she bonds over a rudimentary knowledge of science and baking soda volcanoes.  Eventually, Camilla uses her magical powers to overthrow headmistress Sharleen.  Chelsie replaces Sharlene as Camilla’s step-mother, and Juan Pablo’s Foreverslam.  The end.

So, ya, basically if Juan Pablo chooses Sharleen their lives will follow an eerily similar trajectory to the Roald Dahl classic, Matilda.

Lauren S. —music composer; kind of looks like a Muppet.


Mommy or MILF: Mommy

Camilla will be forced to play piano, and in high school there’ll be a whole piano v. soccer, arts v. athletics, mommy v. daddy type conflict. Think Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens, except in this case Vanessa Hudgens is the athlete, Zac Efron is the latino, they’re not hooking up, and Corbin Bleu is still wholly irrelevant.

Renee—Real Estate Agent; Actual Mother


Mommy or MILF: MILF

Renee’s son Ben, at a pubescent 8 years old, might wreak some havoc with young Camilla.  Described by Juan Pablo as a “fun age” (along with ages 4-94), he’s got a lot in common with the young Lolita: they’re both blonde, from Florida, and have names.  It’s like when Greg and Marcia hook up in The Brady Bunch Movie, or Adrian Grenier and Melissa Joan Hart in Drive Me Crazy—sure, technically it’s wrong…but it just feels so…right (sadly, the last time Melissa Joan Hart felt right).

Kelly—Dog Lover


Mommy or MILF: Mommy

Camilla comes home, carrying a stray cat.  Kelly and Juan Pablo are sitting on the couch, petting Kelly’s dog, Molly.

Camilla: Daddy, look what I found!!

Juan Pablo is taken aback.  He stares wide eyed at his daughter.  

Camilla: Can we keep him, Daddy?  Can we, can we?

Juan Pablo turns to Kelly, whose arms are crossed.  She looks decidedly stern.

Molly (scratching her collar): Awkward…

Elise—First Grade Teacher


Mommy or MILF: Mommy

Elise (finishing up a bedtime story): ….and the people of Forty Fort lived happily ever after.

Camilla: Where the fuck is Forty Fort?

Photo Credit: Abc.com

Episode 1 Recap of Only the Important Stuff: This Journey And/Or Adventure is So Surreal It Must Be Real: In Which Juan Pablo Hosts a Dance Party and a Mineral Coordinator Cries A Lot

Courtesy of ABC

The episode began with a great photo shoot and Juan “I wear suit-pants with no shirt” Pablo showing off a kick-ass pair of purple socks obviously picked out by C. Harrison (guy went to the Chuck Bass school of sock selection).

Skip ahead to Juan “statement socks” Pablo looking contemplative in various half-nude positions. Montage of Juan climbing a mountain, because this is a“journey” and mountains are loaded visual metaphors. Sean, ever the linguist, helps Juan decide whether “adventure” might be a more accurate word, and, true to the conversation’s 6th grade diction, Sean pontificates on the possibilities of “kissing.”

Juan “I think I know how to kiss, alright  Sean, I mean I’m fucking Juan Pablo” Pablo then divulges he’s a 1 on 1 date rookie, which means he hasn’t had experience with large-scale physical metaphors, like climbing a mountain…or a helicopter climbing scenically over a mountain… or being anticlimactically lowered from a skyscraper with Sarah, who literally gave an arm and a leg in service of a visual so loaded with metaphor it’s like where do we even begin?

Cue intros to the women the producers want us to look at:

Chelsie, super friendly, asks some large Mexican woman in full body yoga pants how to speak Spanish; some other blonde chick who doesn’t look remotely Mexican says she’s half Mexican; neither realize that Juan Pablo is Spanish, and that Spanish and Mexican are two different nationalities (But isn’t he really Venezuelan? Never has ethnic ambiguity been so carelessly botched….oh wait…yes it has…)

Valerie gets dumb girl music but is really dope at archery (#1 visual pun of the week).

Amy J. gets weirdo music and she’s like the real Phoebe from Friends but with way worse bangs, not to mention that Phoebe only worked because she was a sitcom character. And even she didn’t air-feed salad to the camera.

Lacy is too nice to win, though the producers may keep her around simply because watching Juan Pablo interact with the mentally handicapped is too precious, emotionally tender, and potentially awkward to miss (See Drew Dahmer’s hometown x9)

Andi looks hot in a pantsuit, but will she be able to dress business casual for Juan“I sit in dugouts speaking Spanish to dudes for a living” Pablo?

Renee has a son named Ben, but will she be like Ben from last season, a.k.a the not-so-bro guy “not here to make friends”? Will Clare show Juan the DVD her deceased father made? Will she convert it to BluRay first?

Soon enough, Harrison is out in front of the house trying not to say Juan Pablo’s name too much like a middle-aged white person. But, alas, Harrison is the most middle-aged-white-person white person on the planet. Limos pull up, and Juan comments for the first time on how much he likes limos. Unfortunately, he doesn’t show the same affection for Lauren S., who rides in on a rolling piano being played badly.

Cassandra is either really really dumb or really showcases a post-modern self awareness, calling out her own awkwardness. But she’s a former NBA dancer, so let’s go with really really dumb/not up on postmodernism.

Other gambits include: Nikki, who shows she knows how to hold a stethoscope; Kat, who looks like the girl from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and dances Salsa; Chelsie, who fucks up an experiment, then makes a joke she saw on a popsicle stick; Elise, who moves at a mythically slow pace in a glittering dress (where is Forty Fort, PA anyway? Side note: I thought it was the stack of couch cushions in my living room); Ashley, who’s probably a hit with the dads at parent teacher conferences, gives Juan a gold star because he’s ostensibly a“big boy” now; and Clare shows up faux-pregnant, which isn’t even close to being funny (I guess you don’t have much of a sense of humor when, according to your profile on Abc.com, you “have never taken a vacation” and “never experienced romance”)—Alien alert?? Someone please check to see if this chick has a belly button, stat…

Later, Allie bounds out of the limo wearing cleats, and, as they clatter away on the cobblestone you can almost hear Juan in a future interview saying, “she showed me she could really let loose, just be one of the guys.”

Maggie, the personal banker, brings a fish hook because she hopes Juan will be “her biggest catch,” although Juan would’ve been much more appreciative had she simply told him what a W-2 was.

Kylie is an interior designer, hailing from renowned design capital, Rockford, IL. She looks like Amy Winehouse, if Amy Winehouse went to the wig store and said,“I’ll take the ambiguously red color.” In other words, she looks like the one Jew in a K-pop group.

Lucy’s career is a “free spirit,” which means she just got her braces off and has a well rehearsed defense for why she just, like, isn’t going to prom. Kelly is a“dog lover”, and, as a self-elected occupation, this actually just sounds really weird. Ironically, her dog listed the same career as Lucy on her application sheet.

To recap: everyone with a bra size over 32 C got a “Wow” (both before and after their intro), which could be really telling for a) what to look for when the girls are forced to step up their cleavage game in the elimination rounds and b) the age-appropriateness off the ESL book JP purchased in order to properly express “shock” or “awe.”

As soon as all the girls are in the house, Juan starts a dance party. Nobody grinds, yet. Harrison, off camera, dances in the corner, hugs himself, and whispers sweet nothings into his own ear in his best Latin accent.

As the coveted one-on-one times commence, Lucy takes Juan over to a couch and promptly puts her feet on Juan’s lap. Juan calls Lucy a “happy camper,” and she smiles because she’s still planning on being a camp counselor this summer.

Without warning, Harrison comes in and delivers a brilliant, “Juan, this is that rose we talked about,” unveiling the first impression rose on a stainless steel platter. Everyone wants a rose because it’s the visual symbol of Juan Pablo’s affection, love in general, and late 90’s superheroes. One girl assuredly says, “If I don’t get a rose tonight, I’ll be devastated,” to which all the others respond by nodding and looking into their drinks in order to mask their own prospective devastation.

The women generally seem to be in search of lost time. “Proust would roll over in his grave,” said nobody on the show ever.

Meanwhile, Lauren H. cries because she recently got dumped. Must’ve been all those late hours at the mineral coordination facility. Creepy first-grade teacher talks to her and seals her own fate.

Cut to Sharleen, who’s basically an Asian Kristin Wiig character, which is supported by her having been in Germany singing Opera for the past three years. When Juan leaves to get the rose, ABC tells us she’s just “not that into him,” and everyone watching shouts at the TV, “well, we’re just not that into you!” Upon receiving the rose, she answers with a smooth, “Thank you sir.”

Chris gets excited because it’s that time of night when he gets to tap a champagne glass with a knife. Juan gives out the roses. The dog gets one because it knows when to come to Juan Pablo better than Kylie.  

Bachelor Bro Picks:

Joe: Victoria.

Courtesy of ABC

Though she didn’t get much screen time, her first conversation with Juan Pablo had the merits of not being freakishly awkward or creepy. And, besides the whitest half-Mexican ever (I’m looking at you Clare), she’s the only Latina on the show, which rivals having only one mentally challenged person on Jake Pavelka’s season as the biggest casting slip-up in Bachelor history. Plus, she likes Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and cats—so you know she previously had really low standards.

Sean: Renee.  

Because I want JP to find his foreverslam (really pushing for this one), I’m gonna go with the girl most fit to take care of Camilla (see the forthcoming post “Mommy Watch”). 


As the other girls sipped martinis and gossiped under the drunk blanket in boozy anxiety, she sat back coolly (imagine a long cigarette in hand), thinking to herself “none of these bimbos have pumped ten pounds of arms and legs through a hole in their bodies; none of them have felt life emerge from within them and basked in the gooey aftermath. I’ll pick them off one by one, killing their dog loving spirits in the process.”

In their one on one chat, she and JP totally agree that both 4 and 8 are “such fun ages!”  Then she moves on to the confessional, staring deeply into the lens to reveal her “no bullshit” philosophy: if not JP, fine. Maybe Harrison, maybe that producer, maybe you America. Someone will be the father to my child. Ferocity, children, wide-birthing hips:  take what’s yours Renee.

Sam: Danielle. 

I don’t normally go for curls, but when I do, I take them on psychiatric nurses who aren’t “big fans of sushi.”

Courtesy of ABC

Danielle is the perfect combination of sweet, outgoing, and not-crazy for Juan Pablo; in other words, she’s just like Kelly’s dog, if Kelly’s dog were (half) black and “loved Andy Warhol.” Count on Danielle to watch from afar as other girls self-explode in the house, and to patiently bide her time on group dates until she gets a chance for a one-on-one. When she does, you’ll be kicking yourself for not picking the girl who chose “not balding” as a primary qualification for a potential mate.

Dad: Andi.


Dad’s a lawyer, Andi’s a lawyer.  Andi lists becoming an attorney as her greatest achievement; Dad was pretty impressed with his latest tablet purchase.  Dad was called Andy in grade school; Andi used to be named Dani but mixed up the spelling on her Bachelor application because she secretly can’t read.

Photo credits: ABC.com

Bachelor Bro’s Preview: Predictions for the First Night and Beyond

-Some chick will come out of the limo and recite something pathetically rudimentary in Spanish, like “me llamo Ashley” and Juan will think it’s cute and endearing but also be like, really, that’s all she could come up with?

-At one point in the night, one of the bachelorettes will plead with Juan to show her some soccer moves.  A soccer ball will magically appear out of nowhere.  Juan will demur politely.  The bachelorette will insist.  Next thing you know Juan Pablo’s outside the bachelor pad, suit jacket off, bending it like Beckham and blowing this chick’s panties off by bicycle kicking in an Armani suit.   The girl who takes her heels off and really shows Juan that she can “let loose” will get the first impression rose and in subsequent episodes reveal herself as a girl who “doesn’t get along with other girls” “isn’t here to make friends”, has crazy eyes, and gets pretty far because Juan Pablo wants to sleep with her, but doesn’t win because (shocker) “let loose” girl doesn’t put out on the fantasy suite date.

-One bachelorette will assuredly mention her having a kid way too early in the evening, in a desperate attempt to connect with Juan Pablo.  Juan will politely look at pictures but inside host a really poor first impression of what her vagina looks like.

-One bachelorette will say, “I play soccer, too,” except she really only played in AYSO when she was five like everyone else on the planet.  And she SUCKED.

-Someone’s getting too drunk, and it’ll probably be Juan Pablo, but he’s European and has a thick Spanish accent so no one will be able to tell. If it’s a girl, she’ll most likely cry and/or jump in the pool which is just so not the move unless you’re Zak from last season and have rock hard abs/almost became a priest.

-I personally think someone’s making a not-so-coy crotch-grab attempt tonight.  Just saying…

-If you think Chris Harrison’s not looking the audience in the eye and telling us, “You wanted him, so here he is..” in reference to Juan Pablo, then you also probably believe Juan Pablo’s career as a club promoter is not just a euphemism for professional drunk/party guy. Side note: is Chris Harrison sort of into Juan Pablo?  Or is he just a robot with really good hair?

-Herewith, a rundown of probable montages:

        1) Juan running on the beach, shirtless.

        2) Juan playing soccer, shirtless.

        3) Juan in the shower, obviously shirtless.

        4) Juan getting dressed, but putting on a shirt.

        5) Juan playing with his kid in a pool, so his perpetual shirtlessness         isn’t suspect.

-8: the number of girls who will undoubtedly be surprised at how “down to earth” Juan Pablo is.

-4: the amount of pivots Chris Harrison will make during his monologue.  

-3: The number of girls who will come with a gift in hand.  Some bitch is going to write a song.  AND IT WON’T BE GOOD. Another will write a simplistic rhyming poem, or otherwise a limerick, because those were the only two forms of poetry we were taught to write in 3rd grade.

-2: The number of chicks who will ask shyly if, um, they can please touch Juan Pablo’s abs. (One of which will subsequently tell the camera outside the house that she wants to have Juan Pablo’s second child)

-One: the number of contributors to this blog who will instinctively feel his own abs or lack thereof, suddenly ashamed.

-Zero: The amount of African-American women getting through to the next round.  Or asians.  Or jews?

—100% sure that in the five minute preview following the episode

1). Someone’s definitely going to the hospital.

2). One girl’s definitely going to be the bitch of the house and is irrefutably not here for the right reasons.

3). Romantic music will accompany a helicopter ride over mountains, show them playing in a soccer stadium, Juan helping someone ski down a snowy mountain void of all other people, and so many fucking candles.


5) A private concert with a country music singer ONLY the girl on the date has ever heard of.

6). The other dudes from Juan’s season come on to give really general advice and not really help at all while trying their best not to treat the women as objects.

Imagined Dialogues Between Chris Harrison and Juan Pablo: In Which Juan Just Wants To Dance, Chris Just Wants to be Loved, and Cocktail Wieners Are Just Spilt

Chris: So, let’s be honest here.  How many chicks did you fuck in the interim of when you were announced as the next Bachelor and tonight?

Juan: Did you ever clean the hottub?


Chris: Now, Juan, before the limos arrive, I want to ask you *leans back in his chair; opens his arms*: What’s your strategy with the girls going into tonight?

Juan: Dancing.

Chris: *definitive, host-like “Ha”* Juan, you know that the cocktail party takes place at the bachelor mansion, not a nightclub, right?

Juan: So none of this *shifts back and forth in his chair; does cha cha motion with his arms*?

Chris: Well—

Juan: None of this *air-spanks a tushy*?

Chris: Ha. Ha. Ha. *Attempts knife-like gesticulation with his hand, to signify interruption*

Juan: How about this *mimes make-out*?

Chris *turns to the camera man*: Fuck me, right?


Chris: So Juan, now that the big night’s finally here…how are you?  Nervous?  Excited?

Juan: I am a little nervous, but more excited. *Beat* How are you, Chris?

Chris: *taken aback, shocked, touched; he’s speechless for a moment* Nobody’s ever asked me that before…


Juan: Where are all the cocktail weiners?  

Chris: *Pouty face, turns away from camera*


Juan: *Joking with Chris*  You gonna do that thing tonight, with the glass of champagne and the knife, telling us the cocktail party is over?

Chris: What, I mean, I was planning on it.  Is that not cool?  Do you guys not like that?   

Juan shrugs.

Chris, walking away, muttering to himself: Fucking hosting.  Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.  


Chris: Now Juan, you know it’s the first night, you’ve got 25 beautiful women out there….when do you first kiss a woman?  Do you kiss her the first night?

Juan: I kind of, you know, feel it.  You know what I mean?

Chris: Right, like, *gets closer to Juan, puts his head towards his*  you sort of like, get close to her, and decide which lip goes over which lip.  

Juan: I sort of, you know, feel it, you know?

Chris: Right. *looks down longingly*.  Totally.


Juan is off-camera, juggling the soccer ball with his feet, his thighs, his head.

Chris walks over, curious and perhaps over eager.

Chris: Hey Juan, want to have a kick?

Juan kicks the ball over to Chris.  Chris looks at the ball, resting at his feet.  For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do.  Then he slowly crumbles into the fetal position, rocking back and forth, humming John Mellancamp’s “Jack and Diane.”  


Juan is in the mansion, happily eating cocktail wieners.

Chris walks in, smiling wide, holding a tray of cocktail wieners.  

He starts to call out.  

Then he notices Juan already eating cocktail wieners.  

Chris walks away, crestfallen.  

A cameraman notices and stifles a laugh.  

Chris angrily shoves the cocktail wieners in his face, shouting “What!? What?! A man can’t platonically get another man a tray of cocktail wieners?”