When I watch a reality TV show, especially one such as The Biggest Loser, I often try to analyze the contestants to figure out why they act the way they do and maybe unearth some underlying insecurities or issues. I know. I’m that good.
So, when I tried to do the same with the contestants on this season of The Bachelor, I was instead faced with the task of trying to console myself that I am not like these women. I am not. I promise.
As I watch the women shriek, scream, and giggle uncontrollably whenever Jake says “hi”, I can’t help but wonder why women act so stupid around good looking guys. Granted, I act like a numpty when I have to talk to a good looking guy as I can’t even put a sentence together, but that’s a topic for my therapist to work on (once I find one to talk to me – they never return my calls), and I don’t want to take any work away from him or her by self-analyzing.
I am actually embarrassed to be a woman when they start screaming and running everywhere, most recently toward a big bus. It is a BUS. Or towards the water. Or towards the bar (wait, no, I can understand that one). My point, however, is that there is no need to scream and run and jump with joy at every God damn thing that happens.
And playing hide and seek? I don’t even play that anymore, and I played kid games a lot longer than was considered normal for kids my age.
The only reason I could understand their actions is if these women are just perpetually drunk. I sure as hell would be. They seem to have access to unlimited alcohol, and I know for a fact that I would spend my time beside the pool with a huge bottle of wine and a smutty novella that details all the good stuff. Screw getting to know the other contestants. Who the hell cares about being best friends with the other women when you’re secretly hoping that the skinny bitch in the size two bikini puts on 50 pounds and develops incurable acne all in one night? I put a lot of energy into hating pretty, skinny girls, and I sure as hell wouldn’t throw that hard work away just to gush over a man with them on TV. No. I would spend my time making up stories about Candy’s liposuction and Britney’s Botox injections. Is that bitchy? Maybe. But that’s how I’d play the game when I wasn’t winning Jake over with my wit, intelligence, and Hollywood worthy good looks.
I can’t help but wonder if these women are as mortified about their actions as I am when they watch the show. But, since I’ve never been in this situation (and never will be, because you have to provide your weight to apply, and we all know that my self-proclaimed 120 lbs looks different in real life), I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.
There must be something about the California sun, warm weather, and sexy smile of Jake’s that make these women’s brains turn to mush. So he rides a motorcycle, wears a really hot pilot uniform, and has a great body. Okay, and he has a sexy Southern accent. He’s not THAT great. Not that I wouldn’t try to seduce him with the promise of alcohol and sexual favours if I ever met him. But I’d rather use that magic (it would take all I have) on Gerard Butler.
Love,
Bella
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