A Whole Lotta Ick
The Golden Bachelor Fantasy Suites (and More)
“Ick” is not my word.
Apparently, others agree with me. It appeared in another Golden Bachelor critique recently.
Writing reviews of the show has become (sadly) a popular activity these days. It’s my Friday AM hobby for another few weeks.
Then I can get back to my real life — which will not, most likely, involve romance, roses, and rejection in Costa Rica, although I’m totally open to the Fantasy Suites with someone other than Gerry (who gives me the ick these days too.)
I have nothing against watching people of any age swap spit after repelling into a waterfall or riding a horse through the jungle. BUT…
Who is going to explain “69” to those grandkids?
Which woman is going to be totally pissed off after Gerry told her he loves her and then dumps her on national TV? No number of endorsement deals can make up for public humiliation and tears.
Why on earth would Theresa give up her securities business for a dude? When she talked about quitting her job if she got the final rose, I almost threw up in my mouth. What year are we in?
And the most important question of my rant today is:
Which friends or family members will nominate me for the next season?
Because, after all, we know that reality TV can be really good for one’s career and although I’ll never quit writing and marketing because I meet a dude, I’ll happily put them on pause for a while if I get to go on an amazing island vacation and gain a zillion new Instagram followers.
Keep your comments and perspectives (and subscriptions) coming, and listen to my podcast — The Geezer Proofer — too!