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.