One year ago I was in Austin, Texas at SXSWi missing I think it was the Zynga party because naturally, it fell on the season finale of the Bachelor. With the town going wild below me, I had the intestinal fortitude to order a bottle of Tito’s and some soda to my room (it’s hard to drink bourbon when watching this show) and hunker down. When the female room service person showed up with a turkey sandwich and a bottle of vodka, saw me in my robe post-workout, waiting to watch the Bachelor by myself on the most fun work trip you can go on, I think she almost felt bad. At least I had the vodka.
Six hours later convinced Brad still didn’t like women and Emily Maynard had stolen prop teeth from a Halloween store, I stumbled into the streets and wound up in a secret Local Natives concert after midnight and later eating barbeque in a place where a man had either passed out or died right on the floor.
I’d have straightened out the images, but that would have taken you further from my mental state at the time.
This year I was in the comfort of my own 20,000 sq. foot palace (I broke into the Bachelor House) and decided to watch with a knife nearby because Chris Harrison promised all of this (as is tradition every year) was the most controversial Bachelor Finale ever. That’s pretty brutal for Swimsuit Issues because this episode was not controversial other than the fact the America all wanted her to perish in an avalanche off the Matterhorn.
Let me start off by saying that Courtney did as I predicted she would. Win. America needs to figure out what it desires. Do we want a winner or do we want an underdog? To hate Courtney (for anything other than being a model from Santa Monica or for constantly playing with her hair or for resorting to baby talk even when ordering a sandwich or for regurgitating played out pop culturisms or for just kind of acting bitchy a lot) is un-American. We like race cars. We like Michael Jordan. We like Darth Vader. We love the damn frontrunner, so check yourself readers. You might not like the taste (how did that taste coming out of your mouth, Beyan), but the recipe works and you are eating it.
So, for the final time this season, let’s get our Bachelor on. Let me get you all in the mood while the license is still good:
I will never listen to this song again. It simply has to be stopped. I am so afraid of ABC’s cost cutting measures that this morning on Good Morning America (I was checking out War Horse’s 12 second interview where she spray tanned to the point it looked like she spent the last 2 weeks digging tunnels in Chernobyl) I thought they were going to use it for the intro music. I fear this song like a trip to the proctologist. It’s inevitable they you will experience it and you will be paying someone to put something up your ass.
That’s what ABC did to David Gray. I am going to be an old man one day, the kids will be in college and some friends will invite us over to their suburban mansion and I will be drinking wine or some shit like that, maybe getting some brie going on a cracker the wives think is “amazing” that they got at Whole Foods and David Gray is going to come on and I am going to instinctively grab the most annoying person at the party and drag them into the pool to drown them and myself.
2029. If the world doesn’t end in December, it will end in 2029 when some asshole whose kids know my kids gets nostalgic and plays David Gray and I get set off like the fucking Manchurian Candidate.
So, Ben is in the Alps in the shadows of the giant wiener-shaped Matterhorn and he’s on a mission. He needs to say the word “incredible” as many times as he can right out of the gate. Holy shit. Take it easy with the line-feeding producers. Ben was so fed up with this at this point he just was repeating verbatim back what they told him to say. “Ben, talk about these incredible women”.
“Sure Bob. I am in this incredible city, with this incredible penis shaped mountain deciding between two incredible women that have been on this incredible journey with me and I need to make an incredibly hard decision because I could hypothetically, conceivably spend the rest of my incredible life with one of these incredible women”.
Hey, play some of that incredible David Gray song.
Ben’s mother and super-hot and nice and really talented at life sister (sup Julia!) were on the show this week. Barb kind of just stayed out of the way, which was a smart play. Given the success rate of Bachelor relationships, best just to be cordial and hope they forget you were even there. I only kicked it with Barb once, years ago at a Christmas Party in Arizona (where Ben still doesn’t admit to living, even though Tucson Winemaker doesn’t have the same ring, so I get it). Barb had some holiday punch that was delicious and strong enough that I wasn’t terrified meeting my wife’s wolfpack of friends very early on in my courtship with her.
Ben was drinking beer in the back, Storm Horsing around. It was good times.
Julia on the other hand, as many of you know, was a bridesmaid at my wedding, one of my wife’s best friends and someone I cannot talk to during Bachelor season. I remember driving to a wedding in Sonoma with her and we were grilling her. I said I wouldn’t cover it if Ben was the main guy out of fear I’d say something that caused a rift in their friend group, which I now know to be impossible as they are like a pack of wild freedom fighters. Both her and Ben were like, go ahead, talk some shit. I respected that.
In many ways, this was a season of keeping it real. Ben picked the hottest girl that he couldn’t say no too. The most talented contestant won. Something was just not totally satisfying. Ali did the same thing picking Ro-Bear-Toe instead of the Landscaper back in the day, but it was more satisfying because Ali was two brain cells short of two brain cells and watching her make weird noises every time she had a decision to make, get her heart kicked in by Frank (who I still apparently look like, ugh), wear neon yellow clothes and have horrible extensions that looked like kelp made it more fun.
This was a pitcher’s duel of a season. Low scoring, easy to produce the outcome, and based on After the Final rose, something everyone is glad is in the past.
Oh wait, I’m supposed to be making you laugh.
Now, where were we…
Julia took War Horse on the balcony and asked her some tough questions. Not really, but War Horse was so nervous having only been in one relationship ever that ended in a text dumping that she was tilting her head SUPER far forward, even for her. Julia seemed a bit unamused and having told many bad jokes in front of her, I feel like I can make that assessment.
In the end, she thought War Horse was fine, which is what Ben thought too. Like, when you eat a forgettable sandwich fine. Like, what did we have for lunch? Or in this case, who did I have sex with in the round wooden hot tub again? The horse one? Yeah. Her. Her dad made me pull him around in a chariot in Florida and I was rewarded with crap chardonnay in a mason jar.
That night, War Horse had a complicated shirt on that had a zipper on the back of the sleeve. I couldn’t get over it. If you undid that zipper it looked like the whole thing would come off and it’d be really hard to zip something behind you or even origami the fucking thing back together. I have no idea what they said because I was doing shirt math the whole time, except for when I was staring at the awful pimple she got on her chin just in time for Ben to decide if he wanted to stare at her face for the rest of his life. #timing
She made a big point to say she loved him and Ben “wanted” to say it back and by say it back I mean he wanted to swim naked with Courtney.
The next day, Courtney came up and kicked it with the family who tried to grill her, but as we learned quickly, we can forgive Ben for any time he might have missed Courtney’s ugly side. Basically, the Flajnik’s kryptonite are models. Courtney was kind of like “whatever, fuck it, I hate these bitches” and Barb and Julia we like “right on”. I think it’s chemical. Flajnik plus model equals acceptance.
Again, that’s American as fuck.
Swimsuit Issues got the memo and remembered to get a gift (pimple and no gift, War Horse, way to fumble at the goal line), although being that she didn’t take any of the pictures, it was probably a model-commandment she made to a cameraman who felt loyal to her because she was naked a lot in front of him and he needed that after watching Hey Bear dance and go to random Asian markets all season. Naked tribal dancing and skinny dipping? Of course I’ll make you an album for the final episode.
Ben and War Horse went skiing the next day and as usual, she looked cute in a helmet, which when compared to “willing to get naked anytime”, doesn’t seem like as good of a superpower. When compared with Courtney’s date of “make snow angels and sled at crystal lake”, it seemed like Ben just wanted to pass the time. I mean fuck. Ben cooked for Courtney. It was symbolic he grill sausage in front of her, because that kind of represented this whole competition. A man grilling his sausage to impress a model.
Don’t let it get lost in translation though. Ben was making effort to show her what was up. I droned out a lot of babytalking and suddenly they were back at the hotel and Courtney compliment fished expertly. Every time there was a decision she thought was close, she got Ben to reassure her. She took the Emily move from Brad’s season (minus the therapy sessions, yeesh) and just pulled a win out from him. Seriously, credit to her. Best contestant ever. Fundamentals, no flaws in her game, other than the fact that she made America hate her.
Side note, on After the Final Rose, I felt bad for her for the first time. To have the whole country dislike you so openly must be a lot to take, especially for a model who is constantly being judged on everything. I am not saying she should have done the thing she did or that I didn’t want to take an ice pick to my eardrums most of the time she was babytalking, but I can’t say I know what it’s like to be so hated. That must be hard.
I wouldn’t know. Everyone loves me. My shit is the shit. You should throw your laptop in your toilet right now my shit is so the shit.
We eventually got to the best part of the Hunger Games. The morning of montage. They drop a gauze filter over everything and splice memories of the “journey” with images of the girls putting on way too much make up and crazy ass gowns. War Horse had a cool dress she stole from the wardrobe closet of The Lion King on Broadway. She had more feathers on her than a honey-covered man in a pillow fight. What the fuck kind of analogy was that?
Still, War Horse won the dress competition because Courtney dressed like the evil girl from a high school prom movie. In fact, one reader pointed me to this picture, which pretty much says it all:
She more than made up for it on After the Final Rose where you saw a crowd of women 10 years older and 50 pounds heavier hate her for rocking a skin tight white dress and looking like a million dollars. No doubt, she was nails in that grab.
Both girls wore capes (hey, it IS the Alps, brah) and Courtney won that battle by a landslide. I kept thinking War Horse was going to meet up with 2 warriors, an elf, a dwarf and 4 hobbits and try to climb the Matterhorn to drop that Neil Lane diamond ring into the flames from whence it came. Fellowship of the Ring indeed.
I texted Ben during the show because he got engaged in a suit I own. That’s a great Hugo Boss ensemble and he got the right tie thickness. It totally made up for the awkward suspenders he took for a test drive and crashed on Courtney’s date. He was looking sharp, time to break some hearts.
War Horse came up and I know ZBOW was trying to let her down gently, but in my extensive experience, telling a girl you love her for the first time and then dumping her on top of a mountain on national television doesn’t help things. Ben asked if he could “walk her out” and I was confused because they were on a mountain accessible only by red helicopter.
War Horse left nobly. She didn’t cry much. Her only fail was pretty funny when she told Ben if it didn’t work out to give her a call. She’ll be in Ocala drinking wine from a tool box on a horse with short ass legs. Listening to David Gray. Dreaming of what could have been.
Sorry, Lindz. I guess Dumpsville is back to population: 1. They kept your hotel room open. Time to run for mayor and learn to do your make up better. Nice girls finish second in this race. Hunger Games, bitch.
Courtney showed up and it was clear she got a last minute nuclear spray tan because her face matched the helicopter. Ben proposed in his awesome suit. They got engaged. And then, it was over.
Only it wasn’t because After the Final Rose was apeshit. I was avoiding my phone, but then saw Ben thew me a tweet.
That made me super proud because if nothing else, I have brought true helicopter activism and awareness to the Bachelor community. As Hey Bear proved, a Bachelor season without rappeling and helicopters isn’t a Bachelor season at all.
I knew ATFR was nuts because my buddy Matt Barkley (USC quarterback for my female readers who aren’t down with football) asked me why I wasn’t tweeting.
I mean, I don’t tweet because I use my tweets to form this post. Gotta save my kisses for you people out there. Only so much sugar to go around.
So Ben said he wasn’t making out with the women in those pictures. Or that they were old pictures. I was confused, but I am not going to ask him because who the hell cares. Let these crazy kids figure it out. When Courtney came out, they both cried and the Hunger Games element came to life. Truth is, it’s hard to be on this show and it’s probably hard to stay together when you can barely talk to each other and the entire country keeps talking about how much they hate your fiance. I mean, my wife probably dealt with that because I am a troublemaker, but it wasn’t the whole country, just a whole country club and in my defense, I think after a eucalyptus steam room session the robe is optional for your walk back to your room. Just saying.
Chris Harrison handed Ben the ring he gave back when they broke up and Courtney took it again. I’d follow the story, but I’m just going to ride into the sunset, glad I will not have friends and people I know on the show (at least I think). As I said, Emily Maynard is in the crosshairs. I am aiming for her teeth so it will be hard to miss.
Hey Bear and the Assassin came out. They were happy and I admit, good for them. Hey Bear might have been boring, but she picked the dude that loved her and could deal with the social experiment that Chris Harrison puts them in. They even asked if he’d get ordained. Just so you know, I got ordained on the internet in five minutes and married two of my friends (to each other, not like me marrying them both, this isn’t Big Love) and I am rocking another this summer. I wish Chris Harrison was my officiant. “Do you accept this rose?” “I do”.
And yes, for the right price, I will officiate your wedding, anonymous reader. I need to keep the lead on Harrison.
So. We’re at the end of our time together for this season. I made some great friends from the blog. I made some great USC football fans read about the Bachelor. I saw a shit ton of helicopters. I made some friends on the show itself which seems impossible given the nicknames I come up with, but good work to you all.
What’s next? Not Bachelor Pad. It’s unwatchable. It’s all the crap that fell into the storm drain, dried out and stretched across the time it takes to edit the Bachelorette. I WILL be back covering the Bachelorette. In the mean time, I will be trying to post here and there about random things going on in the world and my life. It’s not football season yet, but I encourage my Bachelor readers to root for USC, so you can read recaps all year. My USC fans have embraced this show for the same reason.
As snarky as I get on here, all the reads, pictures, compliments and furious hate mail are what make writing Lost Angeles so much fun. Thanks for sticking with me for another content calendar and there will be plenty more to come. If you really need to take a break, I’ll see you the Tuesday after Emily Maynard takes over. In case you think she’s too nice to pick on, take a look at this picture and tell me she’s not a total asshole deep down.
Tick tock, Maynard. Tick tock.