Welcome back, rose lovers! How’s everybody doing? Have we all recovered from the emotional holocaust that was The Great Melissa-Mesnick-Molly Scandal of Early Aught Nine? (Hmmmm, I wonder what those crazy kids Molly and Jason are up to now. Probably getting used to the fact that no one cares about them anymore.) Well, TV Watchers, I hope you’ve recovered, because I’m going to need you with me for the next 13 weeks of The Bachelorette: Canadians Need Love, Too. So let’s get this party started, shall we?
In case you didn’t know (and I’m guessing you do), we first met Jillian on The Bachelor— she was the perky girl with the quirky Hot Dog Theory about men who had the extreme good fortune to be dumped by Jason Mesnick. ”When I got back home from Vancouver, I felt defeated,” she says. ”It took me weeks to sort of get back on my feet.” (Makes sense, given that it only took her weeks to fall for the guy.) But that’s all in the past now — just look at her shopping for pink ankle boots and giving her red beret a you’re-gonna-make-it-after-all toss! This is a woman who has successfully repressed the memory of her public mortification. ”I am 100 percent ready to find love again,” she says. ”I think I’m gong to find Mr. Right. But I’m going to make the right decision the first time.” (Actually, I think that’s impossible, unless she travels back in time and never goes on The Bachelor in the first place — but, you know, more power to her.)
And then she’s off, ditching the gray skies of Canada for the sunshine-drenched dream factory called Los Angeles — a perfect setting for the Object of Desire Montage! It’s not enough that Jillian is a smart woman with a career and a sense of humor; the producers need us to know that she’s a babe, too. (Cue the electric guitar!) Thus, we’re treated to shots of Jillian’s sizzlin’ bikini bod as she emerges from the pool in sexy slo-mo. And hey, getta load of how she works that power hose as she washes a vintage convertible in her cut-off shorts and high heels! I guess the scene where she greets the cable guy at the door wearing nothing but a G-string and a smile got cut for time. (Yes, I know that complaining about sexism in The Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise is like complaining about the lack of diversity at a KKK convention, but hey, it’s my column and I’ll bitch if I want to.)
I’m going to be honest, TV Watchers — I’ve never been as interested in The Bachelorette as I am in The Bachelor, because groups of male contestants just don’t bring the same amount of crazy as the ”ladies” do. Rather than tears and desperation and acts of self-esteem terrorism, you get chest thumping, dude-bro posturing, and the occasional glimpse of a genuine human emotion. Plus, there are bound to be far fewer fashion disasters when the contestants are men. But just like the relentless optimist Jillian — ”I am going to have my fairy tale ending!” she insists — I’m going to stay positive. I choose to believe that among these 25 men there are at least a handful who have truly entertaining personality disorders.
NEXT PAGE: Did he really just call her ”Hot Tub Harris”?