Ah, The Bachelorette. Every Monday night I put on my rattiest pair of sweatpants, pop open a bottle of shitty wine, and watch JoJo live out my fantasy life.
For single girls, especially single college girls, The Bachelorette is like a breath of fresh air. At the beginning of the season, JoJo has twenty-six dudes who are willing to MARRY her, and most days I’m just happy if I can get a guy to respond to my text messages with answers that are more than one syllable long. JoJo gets to walk into the cocktail party every week with a huge smile on her face, and watch these smoking hot dudes’ faces light up. They gaze at her adoringly like she is the best thing since sliced bread. The only person who looks at me like that is my dog. And only when I have food.
Not only do they think she’s the hottest thing to walk on Earth, but they actually seem to like her? I wasn’t sure that was actually a real thing. She receives endless compliments from the guys and gets to make out with them. She doesn’t even have to worry about being a called a slut or sent to standards. That’s called living the dream.
And let’s talk about the wardrobe. JoJo’s closet seems to only consist of beautiful, perfectly tailored ball gowns. Meanwhile, I feel guilty every time I spend more than fifty dollars at Forever 21. And if she’s not red carpet glam, she looks perfectly chic for any occasion. Laying in the grass with a horse? Looks impeccable. The worst part? It doesn’t even look like she’s trying. I’d be exhausted trying to look beautiful every day.
The Bachelorette is my crack. Over the weekend, I go out with my sorority sisters, grind on a random guy at the bar or party, possibly go home with him, and then wake up the next morning and leave. Where is the romance? I want to go on horseback riding dates and make out with a guy in a random hot tub in the middle of a field. I don’t want to go to another disgusting pool party or kegger. If you actually do manage to find a semi-nice guy, the two of you will most likely go to California Pizza Kitchen and split a flatbread. I WANT TO TAKE TANGO LESSONS IN ARGENTINA, GODDAMMIT.
I just want a guy who looks like a Calvin Klein model with a heart of gold who loves to talk about his feelings and give me compliments. That’s it. I would also like for him to have a great job, like maybe he’s a professional athlete or a doctor. Sadly, these men do not exist in college. But they definitely exist on The Bachelorette. Each week JoJo has pretty tough decision to make like, “Should I send home the gorgeous marine or sexy singer-songwriter?” or “Should I hook up with the ex-NFL player of the hot fireman?”
I, however, have to make choice like this, “Should I take alcoholic Mike or stoner Steve to formal?” The dating scene is pretty bleak. Which is why every Monday night, I sit with my face as close to the screen as possible and pretend that I’m JoJo. I pretend that the world is my oyster and the guys are mine for taking, when in reality the pickins’ are slim..
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