Over the past several weeks, I’ve only had one channel to watch on my tv and tend to keep it on in the background during the day. As fate would have it, I also tend to be home on Monday nights coinciding with showings of ABC's epic saga “The Bachelor,” which concluded this week.
“The Bachelor” is a program that stars one single, “hunky” guy who must choose a partner for immediate marriage out of 25 models and club membership career women in there mid-20s. In an increasingly single urban world, if would seem dating and even marriage has become about as casual as an online match survey. This lucky young lad, perhaps the “luckiest dude in the known world,” spends each episode wining and dining A-list gold diggers who are battling to remain on television as long as possible. These women spend only a few precious moments with “Ben,” while extrapolating endless praise for his dashing charm, looks and lovability.
“I’ve never met someone like Ben,” they all say. “He’s everything I ever wanted. This is something I want sooo much!”
By their own admissions, the ladies spend much more time getting to know themselves than they do the actual bachelor. He is a fleeting glimpse of an ideal that is apparently impossible to find in the modern world, enough so that they are willing to blindly devote the rest of their lives to him. The luckiest girls who go far in the game are even pressured into sharing a luxury suit with him, a proposal they all accept.
There are several aspects of this program that cause a bit of ill-ease on a sociological level. Perhaps the most glaring is the “prize” himself: Has the modern American male standard dipped to the point where an apparently insincere, boring and only moderately attractive robot-boy is praised and fought over? My word, if 25 of the country’s most beautiful women are convinced, what ball of lardy asshole puss is the average women expected to land?
If there is hope for our society, the more charismatic lads have shunned these zombie skirts for their overall lack of moral character, or maybe we have grown to the point where a soulless douche-bag is hard to find? One can only hope..
As far as Ben’s actual selections, the picks, like virtually all male-centric games of this variety, was far from dramatic. Jimmy Kimmel smirked repeatedly on his late-nite program over his ability to pick “The Bachelor” finalists, and indeed guessed the final four. The secret? He simply picked out the four most visually attractive women.
Indeed, Courtney and Lindzi, the final two, were well out of Ben’s league. His plastic stares and mundane, pseudo-charisma glaringly brought down the luster of both women. When faced with the final selection, Ben remarked, “This is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make.” In the end, he picked the professional model that bared a closer resemblance to himself, predictably dipping into a pail of primary narcissism after twelve weeks of wallowing in self love and encouraged egotism.
Courtney, proclaimed “queen,” rubbed fellow contestants the wrong way by verbally expressing her confidence and drive to win at any cost. She knew her looks could stun any man, and was well versed in the game of play acting and male manipulation. Indeed, she surpassed the “worn out whore” look of many early departures, and was a far better actor than the rest of the final half. Her piercing gaze was impeccable, and she smoothly handled a brigade of intensive grilling by the show’s chodeface host, the androgynously forgettable Chris Harrison, as well as the wrath of raspy-voiced rejects that were allowed back on the show to confront her incessantly.
Throughout the final weeks, Courtney was strategically vilified by the program, essentially hyped as an evil witch. Runner up, Lindzi, meanwhile was played off as little more than an extra, turning on a ridiculous amount of faked excitement to get noticed during the closing weeks. Ben could shit in a paper cup, and she would coo with delight and praise, maybe even smear it between her toes if he asked.
When turned down on the final day, Lindzi remarks, “I’m mad at myself for not giving you what you needed... I just wanted you soo badly.. but if things don’t work out, call me!” Ah, what a lady. Willing to give him everything in spite of her own pride and wellbeing.
Courtney had been acting for weeks like she thought she was a goner, and every moment forward seemed like a surprise. She was constantly shifty and plummeted by negative energy, but gazed her way through every round. “I have a pattern with men,” she says. “They all really like me and want me, but once they get me and I share myself with them they lose interest and don’t love me back.” Uh oh... it’s a good thing Ben is “different,” and you both know each other so well.. yep, good thing...
“He’s taught me so much about love, and how to feel special. He’s a good guy and I feel like I could trust him, and maybe love him forever.” Maybe even love him forever, what a lady.
Upon a hugely drawn out process, Ben begins his usual rejection speech, and Courtney knows its the end, as expected. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t take a knee again unless I knew it would last forever..” Courtney lowers her head and prepares the walk off stage, but to her surprise he proclaims, “you are that woman.”
Courtney is utterly shocked, furrows her brow dramatically, and her head falls back in a stunned chuckle. As Ben actually kneels and pulls out a ring, Courtney looks panicked, and for one moment we catch a glimpse of utter humanity in which she realizes he is serious; literally asking her, a mismatched virtual stranger, to spend the rest of her life with him, a boring, soulless douche-bag. Within an instant she composes herself, realizes it is just the end of a silly game, and pleads guilty to the sentence.
They stiltedly embrace, avoid prolonged eye contact and proclaim, one after another:
“I will love you forever.”
d.anderson
2012
