The Bachelorette – You gotta fight for your right to Ashley

Rip open that clue and go hail a cab everyone – this installment of the jet-setting Bachelorette felt JUST like an episode of The Amazing Race. Check it out — after yukking it up in Phuket, the contestants headed off for Chiang Mai and the gorgeous Mandarin Oriental Dhara Dhevi Hotel for a traipse through a Thai market; a road block with the whole gang jumping in the Muay Thai ring; and a double elimination date where everyone gets sent home.  All that was missing was Phil Keoghan popping up at the rose ceremony with his sardonic eyebrow announcing that the gentlemen competitors are “the ‘nth’ bachelors to arrive” and handing them boutonnières.

What? What’s that you say? Why in the heck am I talking about another show in the middle of what is supposed to be a recap of The Bachelorette?

Riddle me this, y’all: does my descriptive non sequitur remind you of anything? Like perhaps why Ashley, even with a passel of hunky, posturing dudes (some of whom even have palatable personalities) vying to get her attention and affection, is STILL blathering ad nauseam, about another guy. A guy who’s not even on the same continent at the moment. Oh, you know to whom I’m referring. Him. That Bentley guy. Not going to even bother mentioning his name more than once. There was enough of that done all over Chiang Mai. From now on, let’s just call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The one whose shadow loomed large over the psyche of our increasingly emotional fair maiden.

Strange things were afoot all over this episode, which started with a promising one-on-one date with that cute winemaker Ben F. PS: I’m not just saying that because with him, one would have an all-access pass to wine-a-go-go. He really is cute, this earnest brunette Dax Shepard doppelgänger. Yes, that’s code for “I’d date him.” Anyhoo.

Our twosome participated in some cute, couple-y things, including riding in a Thai taxi known as a tuk tuk (thanks, Amazing Race, for teaching me that!) and painting paper umbrellas that really belong in the world’s largest Mai Tai, but somehow it worked. What didn’t work was taking A Tender Moment (which means in Bachelorette world, “The kiss is coming! The kiss is coming!) in front of a big old sacred temple. Not the best spot to pause when you’re a couple in heat. The whole “mental kiss” thing was nauseous-making – I did a better job with that stuff at age 12 with my pillow and my Andy Gibb poster. After an ornately-executed dinner, during which Ben F. deployed a time-tested Bachelor/ette conversation topic when he talked affectionately about his late father, Ashley gave him a rose. Thank goodness. Did I mention that Ben F. is adorable?

Not so adorable was the group date to the Muay Thai Fantasy Camp. The producers of this tuk tuk wreck must have taken their malevolent pills while planning this season – first, there was the roast that pounded on psyches, and now, a boxing competition that beat on bodies. Specifically the physique of urbane, Harvard man Ames. Until he donned those hot pink boxing trunks, the closest he’d ever gotten to Thai boxing was the takeout container his pad Thai came in. After a three-hour crash course in how to do this thing, which looked mostly like a whole lot of crunches and some awkward interactions with a bunch of Thai Mr. Miyagis, the gents are bussed to a boxing ring in a very public place for some one-on-one showdowns. A tropical version of American Gladiators, if you will.  You could practically smell the testosterone and sweat through the television screen.

This whole disaster-waiting-to-happen was summed up perfectly by an exchange between Ashley and one of the dudes sitting next to her (seriously  — I still can’t tell some of these fellows apart, so he shall remain nameless.) As she observed two of her suitors take shots at each other, Ashley whimpered “I don’t want to see this anymore.” The dude next to her pithily replied, “Hey, you set up the date.” Truth.

In the same vain as “it’s not a party until something gets broken,” it’s not a good reality show unless someone ends up going to the hospital. That someone was, of course, urbane Ames, who after getting pounded by Ryan in the ring, had the same concussive look that Dwight Schrute did after he crashed his Trans Am into the fence going to Michael Scott’s rescue after the horrible foot burning on the George Foreman grill incident. Hey – George Foreman was a boxer! I’ve come full circle with my pop culture tie-ins. Hmmm. Anyhow, Ames was checked out and deemed to be OK, albeit with a concussion. He spent the rest of the episode with a slightly punch-drunk look on his face. Which made him a little more endearing, to be honest. Who knew?

Despite all that boxing nonsense, the real drama came on the dreaded two-on-one date that paired increasingly dislikable cell phone peddler William with semi-bland attorney Ben C. Will described this scenario as the “Thunderdome date. Two guys go in, one guy comes out.” There are some porn producers that would describe this as a great set-up, but I digress.

In a move that totally broke every rule of the bros-before-hos man pact, William threw Ben C. under the tuk tuk, telling Ashley that he’d been talking about getting into the Internet dating scene once he was off the show. BAM! Ashley sent Ben C. packing. Yes, she did it based on second-hand information but it was a rare show of backbone and, dare I say, needed cojones from our girl. Preening slightly from the success of his strategery, William continued to act like the 30-year-old boy he professed to be early on.  BAM! Ashley sends him packing as well, thus killing two dorks with one date.  Apparently not anticipating his dismissal, William got very melodramatic in the backseat of the getaway SUV, saying that when he leaves here, he goes back to nothing. Ah, not true, sir. You go back to asking people what sort of texting plan they would like. That’s certainly something.

In a great date ending flourish, Ashley dramatically tossed the boutonnière into a fire pit as she walked away. As a result, I had Neil Diamond running through my head the rest of the evening. Thanks a lot, chica.

You’d think that all these hijinks would be enough to keep our Bachelorette busy, but no. She was still preoccupied with the one who who walked away – He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She nattered on about him in her talking heads.  She sent the long-suffering Chris Harrison into Dr. Phil mode again, telling him basically that she needs some closure with this “relationship” and that the “dot dot dot” he uttered before leaving still haunted her. Psssst Ashley – that “dot dot dot” is Morse code for “I played you.” Chris said that he would see about making something happen to get Ashley the closure she thinks she needs since, as he so correctly notes, she’s not being fair to the guys still around.

For the record, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was talked about so much, if he’d gotten residuals for simply being mentioned, he’d be adding some really upscale styles to his plaid flannel collection. Since this show, at the moment, is really all about him, I was kind of disappointed we didn’t get at least a shot of him, maybe eating some nachos or fixing his hair in the mirror. Perhaps next week … yep, that’s what’s called foreshadowing, y’all.

With the big flame-out of the two-on-one date, only one gent was ceremoniously sent home after the cocktail party – personal trainer Nick was left without a rose.  Cue that sad trombone.

Next week: We jet to Hong Kong! You-know-who returns! The most dramatic rose ceremony ever!

Anyone want to go in on a pool of how many tears are shed? That’s a sure bet, y’all.

Clacked by Jane Graves
on Jun 21, 2011 @ 20:50 EST5EDT