July 31st marked the beginning of a new chapter for confirmed Bachelorette Charity Lawson. This chapter, titled “Pretty Boring Television,” was one mired in a bog of saccharine emotional marshmallow paste, inexplicable formalwear aircraft hangar get-togethers, and so much more knitting than most viewers probably would have put money on.
What happened to this show? A couple of weeks ago, it was all about God’s own lunatic — Brayden — a man who can staple the entire inventory of a Hobby Lobby to his earlobe. Now it’s the story of a woman who was forced to fly all the way to Cleveland so that she could learn how to make three percent of a scarf. The Bachelorette needs some fresh blood, some new ideas, some Fit Me by Maybelline to sponge over the wrinkles – metaphorically speaking. I brainstormed. Here’s what I came up with.
Do a week where nobody takes a shower
Love is complicated. No matter what ABC wants us to believe, it’s not something that you find by cutting all of the professional wrestlers and underwater welders out of your life until there’s only one person left. That’s not love, that’s “Guess Who?”
No, love is disgusting. It’s finding someone who will still kiss you when your tooth falls out because you can’t fall asleep without a mouthful of Big League Chew. It’s sharing a one-bathroom rental through your partner’s six-month refusal to admit that they can’t process dairy anymore. It’s staying together, through cirrhosis, through adult acne, through a really gross toenail thing.
So I put it to you that in future seasons, contestants on The Bachelorette should spend one week locked in the same house together with nothing but a case of microwave burritos and a pallet of bottled water. No showers, no toothpaste, no deodorant – not even any Fit Me by Maybelline. Just a building full of people, smelling and looking their worst for 168 hours, slowly caving under the pressure of knowing that the nation is watching an HD chronicle of what they look like without wet wipes. Maybe love will persevere, or maybe we’ll get to see a fistfight between half a dozen dudes whose cystic zits explode every time they take a punch.
Bring back Charity’s brother in disguise, but nobody’s allowed to say anything
Out of all of the decisions that the producers of The Bachelorette made this year, one stands out as the most… something.
Yes, greenlighting the inclusion of Charity’s brother in the season premiere was certainly one way to go. Giving the go-ahead for him to play Mrs. Doubtfire the Bartender with a disguise – that must have set the show back, what, $14? Now that was — you know — not unwatchable television, but not exactly a deep tissue massage for your retinas, either.
And when you start to crash magnificently, sometimes your only option is to steer into the skid. Maybe the problem with this zero-budget Ali G reboot was that it didn’t go on long enough.
Think of it this way: Every long-term relationship eventually involves dealing with your partner’s weird relative. The Bachelorette could have leaned into that. Every week, Charity’s brother could have shown up in a new costume, surreptitiously Gene Parmesan-ing his way into conversations with the chameleonic grace and subtlety of the cast of Cloud Atlas. One episode, he’s the coachman, trying and failing to control the horse pulling the carriage that Charity and her suitor are riding in through the streets of New Orleans. The week after that, he’s the bombshell lounge singer at the ritzy nightclub, caked in Fit Me by Maybelline, performing a steamy rendition of “It Had To Be You” right next to the happy couple’s table. The twist: If any of the guys let on that they know it’s Charity’s brother in disguise, they’re immediately disqualified.
Give every Bachelorette a paintball gun
It’s probably not easy to be a contestant on The Bachelorette. Your every move is being scrutinized by a 4K camera and the world is watching. Maybe you respond to the pressure by being on your best and fakest behavior. Maybe you cave and start throwing a lot of adult tantrums. In either case, the nice lady that the whole show revolves around should have the option — no, the privilege — of slapping you in the forehead with three ounces of paint at 300 feet per second.
This shouldn’t be what the whole show is about. There would have to be guidelines. Maybe there’s only one paintball available per episode, loaded into a gun that’s kept on a tray that gets carried by a butler who’s never more than ten feet from the Bachelorette. It’s up to the star of the show whether she fires it off mid-episode, or saves it for the rose ceremony at the end – when she can take her time explaining exactly why Sean is about to walk home looking like he was just in that food fight from Hook.
Also, for the sake of corporate synergy, the show could fill the paintballs with Fit Me by Maybelline.