Welcome home Bachelorette watchers and lurkers, the mansion driveway has been slicked with the tears of past rejects, JoJo has made fast friends with a roll of double-sided tape, and Chris Harrison is somewhere off stage diving into his piles of money Scrooge McDuck style. Oh how I’ve missed you.
You know what JoJo needs right now? A friend to make snap judgments about the guys she’s dating. By friend we mean us. Obviously.
The next morning the final dates were done and Bachelor Ben seemed no closer to being ready to make a decision than he was ten weeks ago when we started these shenanigans. He kept referring to himself as “physically lost” but I’m pretty sure he meant metaphorically lost otherwise he should just go to the hotel lobby and get a map from the concierge.
Imagine if you will having that girl’s night but everyone who attends is an attention starved extrovert who used to date the same guy. Voila, you have the Women Tell All episode of The Bachelor. It’s a disaster.
Usually by the time the fantasy suites date of The Bachelor roll around I have checked out and just want to have my Monday nights back, but this season I am all in. I drank the Kool-Aid. My eyes are barely rolling anymore, guys. They’re too busy staring in abject horror at the disaster taking place on screen. It’s so bad, it’s good.
