I have a confession.
I love The Bachelor.
It seems the worse a show is, the more I enjoy it. (Minus The Office, which is an abberation, being that I LOVE it and it really is a quality program). I know I’m not the only one. I mean, hello, how many seasons has it run!? It must be in at least its 5th season by now.

For the record I will admit its TOTAL misogynistic trash. I mean, in one episode this season they had the women down on their hands and knees barking like dogs begging for an oh-so-coveted rose. Although as one of my friends pointed out, its not exactly sexist because the women willingly signed up for this. I would like to agree with her, because it would help ease my mind about enjoying such drivel but I don’t exactly. Because if we’re being honest here, someone tell me- What happened to The Bachelorette? Were there not enough self-respecting men sending their applications to ABC to cull a decent crop of hot, young, single, employed bachelors? Maybe the single women of America weren’t lining up to invite their families, coworkers, and neighbors watch them kick it on national TV with 3 men in as many nights. Or perhaps there just weren’t enough viewers that were keen on watching a bunch of grown men vie for the attention of one woman. But a flock of hot, often surgically enhanced, dopey women acting like 7th grade girls and treating one another like garbage in hopes of winning the heart of one lucky man!? Will America watch that? Hell yes!!! We love that crap. Bring it on! Even better, we don’t have to feel embarrassed of our nation where this one thing is concerned. The Bachelor airs in various international versions. Note: when I get famous I will hire a fact-checker and I will be able to tell you exactly what nations I’m talking about. But for real, I saw clips from the Russian and Spanish versions once on ABC.

So, all that being said, this is what I LOVE about the Bachelor
1) This season’s bachelor is easy on the eyes and his southern accent is so soothing!
2) I love watching these girls b*tch each other out. They say stuff I would only ever think. And by that I mean they to each others faces the things I would normally say behind someone’s back.
3) I like to see what the girls are wearing. You see, I am fashion-deprived.* Imagine a typical day in the life of Pam: You wake up wearing scrub pants and a long-sleeve cotton t-shirt you got at a race. You change into running shorts and a wicking t-shirt and meet your running partner. He is wearing the boy-version of the same outfit. You have a cup of coffee at Starbucks. You have outfit-envy of nearly every career-woman in there. You come home, shower, and change into scrubs. You go to work. Everyone else is wearing scrubs. Some of them are really awful scrubs, ie) they have juvenile or seasonal prints or worse, cuffed ankles. Those that aren’t wearing scrubs are wearing suits. No kidding, there are like 2 female physicians at the hospital where I work [insert twilight zone theme here]. You leave work and take off the scrubs and change into a bathing suit, comfy pants, a cotton t-shirt from a race and a hoodie. You go to masters. Everyone else is wearing about the same thing. Then everyone dons goggles and latex caps. I take that back, not everyone. The coach is wearing shorts and a t-shirt. When I actually go out-out** instead of feeling like I have nothing to wear, my head spins, considering all the options. My beloved garments compete for attention… My favorite teal blazer begs “Pick me! I look great over so many tops!” My Seven jeans cry “Oooh me me me me! You know I make your butt look so good!” I hear the muffled cry of the black knit halter top I inherited from my sister-in-law, “I’m sexy but not hoochie! I fit great even when you’re having a fat day. Come on already, it’s been so long since I got out!” It’s rough here in the trenches. So when I can sit on my couch and drink a glass of Crystal Light peach ice tea wearing my jammies and scrutinize these women’s outfits, I relish every last minute of it.
4) The tears are real. And I can’t help it, but I find myself talking to the tv. Yes I said I was wearing my jammies but no I did not say I had rollers in my hair and I was going to the supermarket. I am not crazy. But how can I resist, as a sweet faced girl wails in the back of a limo with streaks of mascara running down her unblemished cheeks, describing between hiccups what it feels like to have someone rip her heart out of her chest and stomp on it. I feel her pain.
“I thought what we had was real!”
Sweetie, I thought it looked real, too. I seriously thought he was going to give you a rose!
“The way he looked at me, the way he touched me, I thought… I just feel so stupid.”
Believe me I know, I’ve been there. It sucks, babe. It really really sucks.
“I… I… I just thought he was the guy for me. I wanted him to be the father of my children!”
Don’t worry, there’s someone even better out there for you. Hang in there, hon.
I can’t help it! Whether the girl is dumb or not as dumb, mean or not as mean, hot or less hot, my heart breaks for her. And I have no doubt it’s genuine. I just don’t believe people so simple could act so well.
5) I like to see if I can guess the outcome. I try to account for all the nuances, ie) the producers led you to believe it would be x, but they really want a twist ending so, y.

Which leads me to the ultimate question:
Who will get the final rose?
Jennie or Deanna???? Any thoughts on this topic? Ladies, (and boyfriends and husbands who won’t admit it but secretly love The Bachelor, I know you are reading), please comment. Let this be a cyber-meeting of the minds, if you will. If it makes you feel better you can post anonymously, but please if you have a prediction, I invite you to share.

*I made up this term.
** I have heard this term before, but to clarify:
out: shop at the grocery store, drop by my parents’, to Target, go to the mall
out-out: shop at the mall, eat in a restaurant, drinks at a bar, on a date, at a party