Welcome to the crying game. I'm sorry, were you looking for Emily Maynard's season of The Bachelorette? Nope, welcome to The Total Tears Network. TTN. Emily is here, and though she is allegedly on the brink of love, she just is so darn sad. The saddest lady on all of television. Does homegirl get paid by the tear? Because this has already been a pretty weepy season...but tonight really took the sad, sad cake.
Seriously, this whole episode is a series of shots of Emily crying. Look at Emily cry in Curaçao! Look at her cry on the beach, look at her cry in her hotel room, look at her cry in the ocean, look at her cry in a tube of nickels! And by the look of the previews for the finale (in two weeks and on a Sunday no less, as next week is when the dudes all troll us for camera time), it isn't going to get less teary. You see, Emily is sad because she is in love. She is in love with multiple dudes. Which, is apparently a very depressing problem to have! I wouldn't know. You see, Emily loved these dudes' families so much on her hometown dates last week that now she feels bad or something. And well...everything is hard! Living is very difficult. Feelings are so intense—this is an actual thing she said, too! So what better way to reiterate the struggles Emily the Blondest was facing by reiterating—for the 73rd time—why these dudes are all so swell and special and deserve to be there. It's a good reminder, since we haven't been watching this damn show for the past however-many weeks. Nope not at all.
So! Sean would be the best dad ever, apparently. He's funny and muscular and sensitive! Aww shucks. But what about Jef? Well, Jef is a series of clichés! He is his own person! He marches to the beat of his own drum! He has an edge (it is the least edgy edge, ever)! He's got his own style! His hair is very floppy! Everything is fun with Jef! He's quirky! He owns his weird side! He's like a blonde, male Zooey Deschanel! And then there's Arie—he of the instant connection, “sweet Arie” is a funny badboy! Arie is the one that Emily wants to rip the clothes off of the most. Seriously, did they say more than two words to each other the entire time they were together? Their connection is totally sexual AND literal because they literally cannot keep their faces off each other's faces. Their lips actually grafted together from so much contact that they had to cut the scene where they made tie-dye rooster aprons for Ricki because sh*t got real awkward and they had to be rushed to the hospital before they both just inhaled too much carbon dioxide from each other's mouths and died.
Cue hopeful beach walking and a shot of Emily drawing her name in the sand with a “+?” Ugh. You guys, I just cannot. If you could see me right now, you would see me splayed out on my bedroom floor screaming 'I give up!' with my hands flailing about in the air all dramatic-like. Can we stop playing this game where ABC thinks its being cute by suggesting that this baby-and-love-obsessed woman is not going to get engaged to one of the dudes on this show? COME ON. Homegirl is gettin' hitched, y'all! Or at least getting a sparkly Neil Lane ring that she can bounce around North Carolina with, watching the nail techs side-eying her while she gets a manicure for the third time in a week.
Anysh*t! The dates are next. This was undoubtedly the most boring episode of the season. Nothing happened! Literally nothing! They all just yabbered on in the most uneventful way possible. No one said anything of substance. Nothing really occurred at all. Oh, except tears and three dudes sucking up to a child they've yet to meet. It's whatever.
Sean and Emily embark on an adventure in the sky! Ooohhhh...ahhhhh...speciaaaaal...! Then he writes Ricki a letter and Emily cries which is SO surprising because this woman is so totally emotionless don't you think? Oh yeah and Sean finally says I less-than-three you or whatever and it doesn't even matter. Snore. NEXT!
Now let's talk about the fantasy suite, shall we? I'm sorry...The Fantasy Suite. There, that's better. Much better. The Fantasy Suite is always some sort of cesspool of bad taste and bad life decisions. Because what they never say is: “here's a key to a room where the cameras won't be so you guys can finally touch each other's privates!” Because that is what it is. Everyone knows this. Obviously they are not going to sit up all night and braid each other's bangs. And from the constant emphasis on “staying up all night” and wink-wink, nudge-nudge “talk” that Sean was getting at, I figured this would be no different.
BUT NO. Emily had to get all “parental” and “responsible” and “respectable” on us and NOT go to The Fantasy Suite with anyone. Because she's a mom and a lady and she maybe left her diaphragm in her other big pink tote bag. The hilarious way in which all of these denials went down was memorable though. Sean clearly wanted in on that, but Emily was adamant about him leaving. And then Jef, who actually totally would've spent the entire night in The Fantasy Suite braiding his and Emily's bangs while talking about their ~feelings~, actually denied Emily first. Because, you know, family! She's a mom! She was surprised but clearly that just made her want our dear Jef With One F more.
And then there was Arie. Poor, dear, sweet, attractive person Arie. Emily knew that if she even thought about giving him The Fantasy Suite Card®, it would've been a pants-off dance-off no matter what. So she didn't even bring it up! Dang, girl. Hot and heavy, those two. Get a room! Oh wait you can't because har har har DENIED. The best way to avoid temptation, I guess?
Oh yeah, Arie and Jef have dates, too. Jef is on a boat and apparently after talking to his 452 siblings, his parents have decided that they can stop working towards that home planet of their very own and meet the woman that their son wants to marry. How nice of them! Also Emily wants to pack lunches with Jef. Cool?
Arie's date is them making out for 17 minutes and then pretending to swim with dolphins when they were really just getting handsy underwater. He also can't believe that a mom has to wake up before 6:30am because don't kids just sleep all the time like puppies? They're just like puppies, you guys. Party boy might not be ready for real family life. Also when people use the word buddy in relation to children more than three times, I get uncomfortable so maybe he should cool it on that bit. Arie is still my favorite, though—but I think we all know that their intense physical connection is going to end up hurting their chances in the end. Which is the worst because Arie is a dreamboat. But I mean, hey, I saw Trista's season; I know how this works. Ladies on these shows go with their brains rather than their bits.
Then in a shocking twist that no one would've ever seen coming in a million, bajillion years, Emily gets REAL emotional when chatting with OG Chris Harrison. I know! To tarnish his 5 minutes of filming per episode with your salty water is some true story BS, Maynard. But it's OK: to get you back, Chris is going to make you watch the “very private, personal videos” that the dudes made just for Emily. And because they're so private and personal, ABC's going to show them to the entire broadcast audience! Natch. Emily is straight-up maniacally crying now. Revenge is apparently wet. And caring is creepy.
P.S., Emily? I'm waiting for an ugly cry before I think you meant it. Just saying.
The ridiculous and tortuously overdone music is signaling that the next-to-final rose ceremony is upon us. After waiting 32 years between annoucing that Jef and then Arie would get the final two roses, everyone died and then was reborn as ghosts and forced to carry out the remainder of the show because: contracts. Also Emily's outfit is both casual and over-the-top at the same time. For real. Her skirt is like a fancy tube of nickels. There are (TWIST!) more tears as she sends Sean home. Emily says (in what I can only describe as a really awkward consolation prize) “I wanted it to be you, so so bad.” I mean, technically it could've been, right? It was your decision to send him home. But whatever. Details, Alicia!
So there we have it! The only thing that stands between Emily and wedded bliss are a couple of hours of buffoons scratching their balls and howling at each other in the Men Tell All parade of dunces next week. What will we learn other than probably nothing? We'll have to wait and see.
Now u know what we are, now u know what u are. You'll never grow old, Michael. And you'll never die