15 men, each as bland as the blandest of white bread, spend eight weeks in a sharehouse chasing one woman. It's like Lord of the Flies, except swap out sharp sticks for penises and Piggy for a fertile woman.
Each season kicks off with an awkward meet and greet outside of Thunderdome...I mean The House. A typical conversation at this point goes like this:
Bachelorette - "Hello. Me old enough to ovulate but not old enough to know better. You like?"
Prospective suitor - "I'm erect. Let's couple?"
Bachelorette - "Hold horses. First you complete series of tests against other menfolk...then get flower."
Prospective suitor - "Flower mean coupling hole?"
Bachelorette - "Close enough. You go drink body weight in alcohol then we talk."
14 other men then slouch their way in and repeat the process. Some, like circus monkeys, do tricks for the Bachelorette's amusement. Others bring gifts. The worst of the worst attempt to get musical and the Bachelorette just has to stand there with a rictus grin and take it. It's excruciating.
These are the men we used to send to far flung battlefields to get blown up. Now we make them wear horrible cardigans, invent a Bro Code to pretend they aren't ready to all kill each other, and sit on couches talking about their feelings.
Each episode the MC of the show arrives bearing a cryptic card for either a single or a group date. He hands it off to a nominated leader and then disappears in a puff of smoke. The men then sit there with furrowed brows trying to puzzle out the meaning of it.
"It edible?" one asks.
The leader takes a speculative bite.
"Nah. Taste like crap. Wait, there squiggles on it!"
Once they have decoded the challenge, they are shoehorned into a motorcade and taken to a new location, which is often a farm or a beach. I'm still waiting for the challenge in which the men have to solve the Lament Configuration ( Hellraiser fans say hi! ) in order to progress.
The Bachelorette occasionally swans in and suddenly all the suitors are reaching for cushions to put in their laps. There's nothing like a sharehouse to build a spank bank of terrifying dimensions.
( To be continued )
