The Official Bachelor Blog of Trump's America: Week Two

 Photo by  ABC

Photo by ABC

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Welcome to week two of The Bachelor, the show where one man gaslights a country into falling in love with him. 

This week kicks off with a group date on which, as per usual, nobody’s feelings will be valid. Except for pugnacious Corinne, who vows, pugnaciously, to win the day.

The date turns out to be a wedding dress shoot and the photographer is a perfect caricature of a gay European whose oeuvre has been primarily inspired by watching Girls Gone Wild DVDs as art. As the ladies, dressed in varying genres of wedding attire, inch closer to Nick’s (inevitably!) erect number, the photographer cackles with delight. He loves nothing more than the performance of heterosexuality. This is his zoo and Nick Viall’s hulking balls are the main attraction.

Corinne, who is full of more twists than a J.K Rowling novel, seems to be the only woman who understands this. This isn’t about what Nick Viall wants. This is about what Terry Richardson’s European twin wants, and she’s prepared to give him anything, even if that means taking her top off in a pool and letting Nick cup her tiny boobs for fifteen minutes. Which, as it were, is exactly what it means.

“I’m sorry your youth pastor fucked you up, but sex is a weapon and I intend to yield it thusly,” said Corinne, not out loud but definitely in her head.

The photographer is charmed by Corinne’s willingness to disregard social expectations of female sexuality, and why shouldn’t he be? What woman here hasn’t had to navigate that fine line between withholding sex and giving it away in order to maintain the affirmation of a male homo sapien? It gets old. Besides, Corinne doesn’t want Nick — she wants to win! And she’s not going to let your DUMB CHRISTIAN VALUES tell her how to do it!

“I’m sorry your youth pastor fucked you up, but sex is a weapon and I intend to yield it thusly,” said Corinne, not out loud but definitely in her head.

Anyway, Corinne wins, just like she said she would.

That night, Nick takes all the women up to a garage? an abandoned warehouse? He takes them somewhere I wouldn’t go alone with a man on our first date. The champagne is flowing freely, and Corinne’s glass is perpetually at her lips. Girlfriend sees no reason she can’t party like a rock star and still walk away with the Golden Globe.

There are other women on this date as well but they’re all mental health counselors or special-needs teachers who keep saying things like, “The majority of my work comes down to vulnerability,” and none of us are here for that.

We’re here for the innovation of language, like the word “re-interruption,” which is what happens when you interrupt someone and then they interrupt you back. According to Corinne, “re-interruption” is worse than “interruption” because meow meow meow meow meow. For the record, Corinne is only guilty of interruption three times. She comes back to Nick three times to tell him “I — you make — hi — I’m — you’re hot” and then makes out with him until some classless bitch who doesn’t understand how etiquette works RE-interrupts them. This is usually mental health counselor Taylor. Right now, Taylor is abiding by the famously ineffective “when they go low, we go high” method. Good luck, Taylor, and remember: as long as there’s no situation about the situation, we’re okay.

Nick appreciates Corinne’s repetitious aggressions because he’s tired of asking these women about what it’s like to bring hope to families of special needs children or teenagers suffering from bipolar schizophrenia. Nick Viall is a software salesman turned reality television star. He works out twelve hours a day during reality show off-season. He slut-shamed Andi Dorfman on an “After the Rose” special. He’s not a “good person.” He’s barely a person. He just wants to make out with a hot 24-year-old.

And so it happens. Corinne gets the rose. After the election we just went through, I’m not so easily misled by group ridicule, and Corinne is nothing if not the Donald Trump of this season. She’s brash, rude, unkind, uses words that don’t exist, is extremely wealthy, runs a multi-million-dollar business, has small hands, and possesses an outsized confidence that doesn’t make sense to anyone but seems to work for her. Yes, she’s the perfect storm of instability, and anyone can see she will ruin Nick Viall’s life if elected but I will not be blindsided by her ascension. Not me. Not this time.

The next date is a one-on-one and goes to Danielle M. Danielle’s voice has the tenor of a Dementor just before it sucks your soul from your mouth but she otherwise seems to be a C.B. (chill bitch). Nick takes her up in a helicopter and spends his time in the air making jokes about traffic collisions on the 101 which I guess is funny if you think mangled bodies and people dying inside stalled ambulances are funny.

 Photo by ABC

Photo by ABC

They spend the rest of the afternoon on a yacht and then at dinner and then on a Ferris wheel. The date is immensely boring which is a good sign for Danielle’s staying power. The main conversational event is when Danielle tells Nick that her fiancé died of an overdose five years ago. Very sad.

The final date is another group one, and Liz the doula needs to use this time wisely. You can see, if you’re a wizened reality television aficionado, exactly how the producers are attempting to manipulate Liz in the confessional. When she insists that she’s happy for Danielle M. and refuses to complicate the sentiment, the producers linger on her unbreaking smile, as if to say “This is the kind of woman who will cut your boyfriend’s dick off while practicing yoga breathing.”

What’s more likely is that Liz the doula is a genuinely kind person with measured expectations of what goes on in Bachelorland. After all, when she looks at people, she doesn’t just see people. She sees the miracle of life, slippery babies, and exploded vaginas and during-birth orgasms. Doulas are not petty women. Doulas don’t belong on The Bachelor. And deep down, Liz knows this.

She’s here, though, and that means she has to suck it up and go to the Museum of Broken Relationships with Nick Viall and eight other women for group date day. The Museum of Broken Relationships is a totally normal first date that a totally normal dude who totally experiences emotions and doesn’t just perform them would take eight of his new girlfriends on. I’m happy for all of them that they get to share this unique experience.  

The museum hosts a symposium on The Art of Breaking Up where all the women get to act out a breakup with Nick. Their performances are bittersweet, knowing as we do exactly how each breakup will take place. (Nick will give his final rose to their mortal enemy, ask to walk them out, tell them sorry but they were the seventh prettiest woman on the show and he only has six roses this week, and then a producer will drive them up and down Rodeo Drive until, broken from exhaustion, they finally admit how much they hate themselves).

For Liz, the pain is swift and comes early. After her performed breakup outs her as a former one-night stand, Nick puts her on the chopping block. Bye Liz, he says. Go make some pregnant woman a dirt smoothie. Should’ve given me your number. Should’ve bought a squirrel.

What did she expect? You can’t win twice — not against Nick Viall.

Join us next week to find out which favored Republican senator Corinne, 24, business owner, makes a mockery of. 

 becky scott

Becky Scott is a Brooklyn-based writer who enjoys buffalo wings and writing journalistic longform pieces on The Bachelor.