‘The Bachelor’ Recap: Virgin Territory

You guys, I’ll be honest, those Bachelor recaps take a huge amount of wind out of my sails, writing wise.
I know it might come as a huge shock to those of you read them; scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, stopping a few times for potty and snack breaks, of course, but think about me. After losing a good portion of my mind in my attempts to give you the dirty details as honestly and completely as I can (cough), I’ve usually lost over three hours of my life in addition to the two spent watching the show (but since I use show time as a fine time to open a bottle of wine, those two don’t count).

Seriously, when I finally post a recap, this is exactly how I feel:

Will I continue to recap for the rest of the season?
Of course.
Probably.
Not sure.

Is it fun to be snarky about these narcissistic fame-whores who signed up for this and are just begging for people like me to call them on it?
Duh.
But here’s the thing. According to my stats, no one really reads these recaps.
Except you.
And you.
You … sometimes. But be honest, you pretty much skim until a naughty word jumps out at you.
So I’m basically draining hours of my life (and three-fourths of a bottle of wine) every Monday night for a party of five (or so).

And while I do appreciate and love those of you who are reading—and laughing—that’s a lot of life (and wine) drained each week. 

Next week I can tell you for sure there won’t be a recap due to me prepping for my Tuesday morning colonoscopy.
If you’ve ever had one, you’ll understand that what is involved in the “prepping” is by far the worst part, and will know that I will be prisoner in a room far from my television or computer for about four straight hours.

I’ll let you know how it goes. (The recapping, not the colonoscopy. Although I am considering writing about it this time—strictly for PSA purposes, obvs.)

But for now, I’m here, you’re here, the wine is here, the farmer is (sadly) here, so let’s do this.

Grab a cocktail, throw your self-respect out the window, and let’s go.

*RECAPPER’S NOTE*
The recap will, once again, be primarily in note form.
Once again, because this is pretty much exactly how I wrote it all down when I was watching.
Once again, because I’m too lazy to make this seemingly never-ending post into complete sentences, which would make it even longer.
And once again, you are welcome.

Harrison graces us with his presence, and kills the room in a deep blue shirt that matches his jeans way too closely for my taste but matches his eyes perfectly so I forgive him.
He tells the gaggle gathered in the living room that there will be two group dates and one one-on-one date this week, and that Chris will be getting help in the choosing of who is granted the solo night by “the people who mean the most to him and know him best.”

“THE STRIPPERS FROM THE ‘HO-DOWN’ IN ARLINGTON, IOWA?” I shout.
Nope. His sistahs.
Also from Arlington, Iowa.
Oh.

Group Date: “Let’s do what feels natural…”

The girls chosen for this date go berserk wondering if this means they’ll have to go sans makeup and hair extensions.
One girl is even heard lamenting the fact that she is unable to remove her silicone breasts in time.
Not really.
That’s just ridiculous.

But they do fret over having Chris see them without makeup (they take these date card messages way too literally) as they apply it with paintbrushes and airbrushes and blow torches anyway.
Token short-haired girl Kasey, however, could give a rat’s ass about makeup and hair extensions because she looks adorable without either. (It’s true, she does.)

Taking to the highway in vintage convertibles that look like the one my step-dad had in the 70’s (which makes me vintage, I guess), Virgin Kardashian gets to ride shotgun to the farmer and has taken the “natural” thing totes seriously, you guys, sporting a crop top and some serious underboob.
When they all end up at a lake in the middle of some dirt mounds that I suppose are Los Angeles’ answer to mountains, everyone splashes in, because it’s time to FROLICK.
The whimsical, retro lounge chairs and inflatable lake toys told them so.

The Virgin wants to make a splash, so she takes off her top (because being a virgin doesn’t mean she ain’t a tease) and most of the other girls follow suit … by removing theirs.

Not short-haired Kasey, though!
She’s “done!”
She has her self-respect!
“This date is for BIMBOS!” she tells the camera.
“I AM OUT OF HERE,” she continues, and stalks off, taking said self-respect with her.
Nah, she doesn’t. She sticks around, criticizes everything and everyone some more, and gets stung by a bee about an inch from her hoo-ha as a prize for being a FAKER.
Self-respect can hurt.

Back at the mansion, the Iowa sisters arrive and begin the SERIOUS INTERVIEWS.

Random observation: Whitney looks exactly like a Soules sister.
It’s actually kind of creepy.
They ask her if she knew the Bachelor was going to be Chris before the show.
“I wouldn’t have come if it was anyone else,” she squeaks.
Liar.

Cruise ship Carly bonds with them immediately (or so she thinks) by breaking down and telling them that she’s never had a guy be nice to her, and she looks to the amazing relationship her Grandma and Grandpa had as a model of what true love is.
“I’m here for Chris, and I want him to be like my Grandpa,” she admits.

They ask each girl if they could see themselves living in Iowa.
OF COURSE THEY CAN!
WHO CAN’T?
I mean, besides Andi.

They sit down with Jade, the cute, natural brunette who fooled me with her plainness last week when she had the Cinemax moment with the farmer on his bed.
She tells the sisters that she lives in LA and “models for a website” as well as has her own organic makeup company, which I’m guessing is code for “makeup that sucks.”
The sisters are impressed. “Wow! You have lots of special talents!”
They’ve obviously heard about the romp on the bed last week.

Meanwhile at the lake, there’s a game of bikini Red Rover goin’ on.
Good lord.

Chris surprises the girls by telling them they’ll be pitching tents and camping overnight.
WINK WINK.
Suddenly, everyone has showered and is in freshly applied lipgloss while the farmer is grilling some fancy shish kabobs courtesy of ABC Catering.
Oh, and they’re all in a lot of plaid. Obviously.
There’s a couple of bottles of whiskey (the official drink of season 19) being passed around the campfire, and everyone’s getting seriously wasted.
I wish I was. I just realized we’re only like 25 minutes into this hell.

Later, Crazy Eyes pulls Chris aside, burns a hole in his soul, and whispers, “Who are you?”

*Transcript of everything else she says to him (seriously, I couldn’t make this up)*
“I know you’re a Scorpio, but I don’t really care about that.”
“You’re funny. Look at the moon. We’re sitting here. That’s so weird to me.”
[Kissing break—which of course, he responds to, because he is a whore and will kiss anything]
“I like, really love you. I hope that resonates in your mind tonight. You don’t have to say anything in regards to that, but if you don’t I WILL KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP.”
(Okay, fine. She doesn’t say that last part, but she did say all the rest of that nonsense, and you know she was thinking it.)

Meanwhile, all the girls wonder if she’s sacrificed his beard and man-boobs to the moon and call out his name.
Crazy Eyes: I’ll let you go, but I won’t really let you go, so…”

While all this is going on, The Virgin Kardashian is all kinds of PISSED.
That bitch Kaitlyn got the rose, and SHE GETS EVERYTHING.

She’s sure the farmer doesn’t know the real her, so she decides to creep to his tent in the middle of the night to tell him she’s a virgin.
Because being a virgin doesn’t mean she ain’t a tease.
Oh, wait. Did I already say that?
“I’m NOT a ‘hookup’ girl,” she insists, as they tumble on top of each other and the screen fades to black.

Back at the mansion, the sister-chosen one-on-one date card arrives in a gilded, gold, envelope, and it’s for plain, organic Jade.
The date is to be a royal ball (from 8 p.m. until the last stroke of midnight, as royal balls always are) and the other girls are out of their minds with jealousy.
Especially The Virgin, because SHE’S A GODDAMNED DISNEY PRINCESS and THIS DATE IS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR HER.

Two kooky-haired, fairy Godpeople arrive (straight from central casting) and whisk Jade away to a room off the foyer filled with rhinestoned ball gowns, gorgeous shoes, and trays of jewels, but make sure there’s enough room for all the other LOSER girls to watch them fuss over her.

Jade chooses a mediocre-to-borderline fugly long blue dress, “glass” slippers (of course) and diamond earrings (courtesy of Neil Lane – which she gets to auction on ebay as soon as she gets kicked off the show keep) and is whisked away by a white Rolls Royce limo, but not before the pink-haired Godmother shows her—via iPad video clips—the “inspiration for this date” — the new Disney (i.e., ABC) movie, Cinderella, in theatres March 16!!
Whores. 

The Virgin is out of her freakin’ mind with the injustice of it all, and puts on a princess dress she brought “for a date JUST LIKE THIS ONE” while the other girls are all hanging out in their yoga pants and spite. She pretends she’s on a a date with the farmer and drinks a glass of champagne and gnaws on a cob of corn (because IOWA) while sitting at a table, alone, with a wilted rose.
Wah wahhh.

Jade arrives at the top of a golden staircase and descends to her Prince Farming, who had no idea who his princess-for-the-night was going to be.
He seems happy to see it’s Jade, probably remembering that her tongue tasted like danger and Cinemax when he sampled it on his bed.

They have a private dinner in an empty ballroom (snore) and discuss their previous engagements and the merits of organic blush.
Chris gives his “girl next door” the coveted rose and sweeps her into a side room where a full orchestra is playing, and they do a Junior Assembly version of a waltz while scenes from Disney’s (ABC) Cinderella play on a gigantic screen above them.
(In theatres March 16).
Whores.
When the clock strikes midnight, Jade grabs her skirt and rushes down the stairs, leaving not a shoe, but a tiny bit of her dignity behind.

Group Date: “Let’s Get Dirty.”

Six giant white boxes containing wedding dresses await the six girls chosen to go on the group date, and while five of them are ecstatic, Jillian (and the ABC censor who has been earning some serious dough in overtime by covering her ass cheeks with that black box) is not.
The wedding dress covers up her ass cheeks.

Decked out in the giant, poufy dresses, the girls board Polly Pocket’s airplane which flies them to San Francisco, where Chris meets them and takes them to “muck fest.”
Think “Wipeout” in mud bogs.
Looks like a blast.
There will be a competition—in the mud … in wedding dresses for some bizarre reason—in which the winner will win the one-on-one time with Chris for the evening.
Jillian is stoked.
The other girls concede almost immediately.
Their wedding dresses are weighing them down (don’t ignore that sign, ladies).
It’s a ridiculous and confusing date choice, and I can’t figure out ABC’s self-serving motivation behind it (there’s always self-serving motivation).
Giving the muck fest (raises money for MS) some love is great, but the wedding dress aspect is throwing me.
I’d ponder it, but I’ve already spent way too much time on this date already.
Moving on.

So Jillian wins the one-on-one time (Vanessa Minillo-Lachey came in second and then vomited some mucus), and the losers are given puffy white robes (and colorful hair-ties) to replace their puffy white dresses, packed back on the Fisher Price Airplane and sent home.
Jillian and Chris have a private, romantic, rooftop dinner with the S.F. skyline in the background, and Jillian tells us how confident she is about this date and about her chances with the farmer.
#forshadowing

At dinner, she doesn’t shut up.
Chris can’t get a word in. She’s talking about herself and her past and the sad, lonely life she leads in Washington which led to her body-building obsession and Chris tells us that she’s talking so much his mind can’t process it all.
#Iowa

Chris: As Jillian’s words begin to flow over my head, I begin to think of unicorns … and fairies.
#whiskey

Chris gives Jillian the let-down speech and she freaks out. “This was hard for me,” she tells him, and then apologizes. “Do you want to see my ass cheeks?” she offers (not really) and then tells us that she’s disappointed in herself (really).
Sigh.
When will a girl on this show ever not blame herself, but pity the dude for losing out?
Oh, that’s right, never.
Women with strong self-images don’t sign up for this show, they’re far too busy laughing at it.
High five.

So as Jillian and her exposed ass say goodbye, our ABC censor packs up and heads home.

 

Rose Ceremony Night 

Chris reminds them that Jillian was sent home and that THIS IS IMPORTANT TO HIM, DAMMIT.

The Virgin realizes she didn’t make it clear that night in the tent that she is a virgin, what with all the whorish behavior.
She needs to tell him plainly.
She puts him on the spot and asks him what he got out of that tent conversation.

Chris: Umm…besides the hand job?
The Virgin: Actually, I’m a virgin. I’m waiting for the right guy.
Chris: That’s great! Good for you! Totes respect it. It’s a good thing! It’s okay!

But The Virgin doesn’t feel okay about it and is freaking out because she thinks she freaked him out and now he DOESN’T WANT TO KISS ME (Read: HE’LL NEVER WANT TO DO ME).
(He will.)
Overalls, who you can tell is still dying to be The Virgin’s pimp, keeps convincing her it’s okay, but The Virgin keeps crying BECAUSE IT’S NOT … and because she needs the attention of the entire house, camera crews, and Bachelor Nation to feel validated and worthy.
She breaks the news to the rest of the ladies that she is a virgin.
OMG you guys, guess what??
SO IS BECCA!
Well, then.
I’M A VIRGIN, TOO!
SO IS MY MOM!

BTW, I still think Becca is sweet and stunning, and after her talk with Chris last week where she told him she didn’t want to rush things and didn’t even kiss him (which was rewarded with a rose), I actually might believe her claim.
If she wasn’t on this show, I mean.

Britt tells Chris that she’s hearing things that concern her and wonders why the hell that bitch Kaitlyn keeps getting rosed.
As every man Bachelor has done in the history of ever, he shuts down and gets pissy when she calls him out and questions his integrity.
Chris bumbles through an answer that is complete gibberish, and basically just sounds—not words—are coming from his mouth.
Like really, it MAKES NO SENSE WHATSOEVER.
His fury with Britt’s questioning—and the fact that the English language has escaped him—is white hot.
Chris: I’m glad to have had this conversation with you (read: You are so not getting a rose).

Taking center stage, Chris scolds the group and tells them to GO THE HELL HOME if they’re not here for the right reason. (Like to sleep with him, ya stinkin’ virgins.)

Roses to:
Whitney
Cruise Ship Carly
Makeup Megan
Samantha (Who?)
Overalls Mackenzie, The Wonder Pimp
Kelsey
Becca (Virgin #2)
The Virgin Kardashian (Virgin #1)
Britt (but you better damn well NEVER question him again)

Goodbye to:
Crazy eyes (who stares into his eyes and vows to return to eat his soul)
Juelia (whom he gives a sweet goodbye to out of respect for her tragedy)
and a brunette I’ve never seen before

Next week they all say Adios to Los Angeles, someone takes their pants off, and someone collapses on a bathroom floor.
(And no, I’m not talking about me.)
Will Britt be forgiven?
Will The Virgin Kardashian keep it in her pants?
Will I be back in two weeks?
All questionable.

 

For previous recaps, click HERE, and if you enjoy what you read, I’d appreciate you hitting the Facebook ‘like’ button and sharing the link! 
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