I offer hymns to God, thanking Him gloriously, that Meredith made her exit from the vertiginous, Paphian moonscape of Bob Guiney’s televised folly before more odious afflictions to her soul might have wormed inward. It was rather obvious, wasn’t it, that Love nor Marriage was of interest to Mr. Guiney much---books, CDs, Oprah and proto-celebrityhood made his bow tie twirl. Ah, I do wonder if Estella has arisen from her discombobulation long enough to realize that the “Journey” Bob Guiney promised to “start” with her is already over; and that this over hyped, gaseous “Journey” (named after his favorite rock band, apparently) of Bob’s was nothing more than a trip to the corner liquor store for a pack of spooge-filled Ding-Dongs. Thank goodness this pathological fragrance, this rotten spectacle eluded Meredith.
So. Her escape successful, Meredith now has reanimated herself---much like Trista---upon the throne Mr. Guiney once laid waste, a disinterred chimera slithering her redress upon the former droll knight, flaying a swath of his timorous notions and self-absorbed decisions regarding Love and Marriage as poppycock. Let’s hope that this Bachelorette will keep her eye on the prize, as did Trista (and unlike her benefactor), and not allow the heady flush of becoming a flash-celebrity gunk-up all her rational machinery, allowing her heart and soul to collate uninhibited, freely. My gut feeling is that she will do the right thing.
One must be still rather dizzy after watching the opening salvo of this latest Bachelorette entry. Gone were the usual prelude outtakes of the Bachelor selection and interview process, mini-bios of each contestant, etc... I think there was one Bachelor installment (Andrew Firestone?) that didn’t even showcase the initial limousine arrival and Bachelor party until the second week. Here we were afforded a lightning synopsis of Meredith’s personal history and rapid snapshots of the arriving 25 bachelors only as they each bounded up the stairs to greet Meredith. In some respects it seemed almost too ferocious a pace---though warmly welcomed in hindsight---from what we have come to expect from the previous five seasons. I was barely getting my pillows and comforter fluffed-up, and my burrito unwrapped, when there was Chris Harrison, outside of the new Bachelorette pad, giving Meredith the red alert about the circling limos. A few nibbles later, in popped Meredith, galloping in among the men, beaming, slapping the outstretched hands, “I love a high five!” Soon thereafter, the boutonniere roses, and “the mysterious white rose,” were being sent on their chosen paths and soon, poof!, it was all over.
The 25 eager bachelors are an interesting lot, an eclectic mix of jocks, business types and, ahem, average joes, but all---alike the Bob Guiney sycophants earlier---are quite absorbed already with our heroine, most well on their way to scrawling a first draft marriage proposal. There were a slew of quirky gifts for Meredith, the most highly notable a pair of miniature plastic monkey toys supplied by Ryan R. (after turning the wind-up, one monkey did flips, the other clapped his cymbals together... what a treat). One “gift” was a red rose from Brad; yet another was a personalized Ice Hockey jersey from Harold. And, from Rick...
Meredith’s current chestnut appears to be Rick, the 29-year-old business owner from San Diego, who was parcener of the “mysterious white rose” (a passport to the first one-on-one date). He also brought the most sumptuous gift to the affair---Rick’s offering was a pair of custom-made plush terry slippers (a product from his company) which made Meredith yelp gleefully. It was during this exchange, in a snug nook off the main floor, that Meredith finally drew an unforeseen mental blank, her colloquial triumphs suddenly halted, and conceded she was “speechless... I don’t know why... but in a good way.” One could tell something was tacitly brewing between the two, although, for some reason, Rick doesn’t send off any readily apparent fireworks. Maybe it was because he appeared totally humourless, too tightly wrapped? In his defense he did unload some nifty, soaring analogous metaphors: like through his gift of slippers, “I’m going to be with you every step of the way.” Some people eat that stuff up. Meredith, though, must have had her reasons: she swooningly labeled him “...the silent killer of the evening.”
For my money, much more romantic stars scorching their randy way across the sky were the drawling Texan Horse Breeder, Lanny; the towering Pharmaceutical Salesman, Chad, 32, from Buffalo, NY; or the world traveler and already retired “homeless” Investment Banker, Ian. Runners up would be the rumply Ryan M., with that constant, squirrely grin on his mug; and one-of-the-two Mr. Bean-look-alikes, Brad (the rose giver). My entirely frivolous prediction is that Ian will be the last man standing. After all, didn’t Meredith fiddle with his tie?
Gross irritants remaining are Ryan R. for the simple gesture of a creepy wink transmitted to Meredith as she was donning a boutonniere upon his lapel, along with his dime store monkey toys; and the giddy jock of the group, Damon, a way too uppity Arena Football Player from California. When he popped out of the limo the first body appendage that leapt out was his gangly tongue. Why? I don’t know. He greeted Meredith with a rousing, “Is this the Bachelorette party?... I’m the entertainment!” I suppose these jousts were on his pocketed flash cards. And it was he who shouted out an entirely symptomatic and tactless “Game on!” after Meredith toasted the lucky 15 with a “Here’s to the ride gentleman!” This tiresome and completely inappropriate quip spoke well enough of this rube’s specious download of Meredith’s televised dating demarche---Damon’s brain will undoubtedly ferment another football game scenario before him: he will “tackle” his Bachelorette “opponents,” and try to make a “first down” before “scoring” a “touchdown” with Meredith, or something similar. Expect a flying jockstrap or two.
A possible, distant irritant is Robert, a Technology Developer from L.A. with long curly locks, who in his on-camera interview clip stated he spends a lot of time “laughing my butt off... it may have something to do with my hyper nature” and then cast suspicions about being “slightly ADD!” Funny enough, I guess (Robert was laughing), but when Meredith called out his name during the Rose Ceremony he stood there disengaged, oblivious (coma?), even as a couple of the contestants below him stepped aside to give him room to pass. He finally woke up and shuffled up to Meredith as if a first time walk-on in an elementary school play---giggling, sheepish, remarkably unmoved. He took a rose from Meredith like it was a plate of pancakes. If this is him, he won’t be napping around long.
The most annoying of the entire 25 suitors, and thankfully sent away, was the pony-tailed Keith, 31, a Financial Analyst from Maryland, who made several confessions on camera, with open bravado, about how incurably fantastic he was and is. After eyeing some gift giving during the Bachelorette party he ranted, “I’m a competitor, I’m a winner... I don’t need to, you know, give some little letter or some little trinket. You know what? I think I’m the gift!” After getting snubbed, Keith made one last attempt to make sure no one on the planet forgot his luminousness: “I’m confident in my looks. When it comes to dating... things like this haven’t happened. I’m a special guy... It wasn’t about Meredith, it was about ME meeting someone... I’ve got a lot to offer. That was what it was about to me...” Whew. The Keith billboard on Sunset Blvd. should display one of his many watershed quotations, such as, “I think I’m definitely getting a rose tonight!”
The one guy whom I was sorry to see go was Anselm, 32, from Venice, California, an “artist” who made some rather touching departing remarks that highlighted his devotion to Meredith as well as his humble rendering of his place in this surreal realm: “I’m disappointed... and it might take a little time to get over this... I can live with that.” He seemed a good soul. Oh well. Too bad, so sad. I think the missed connection there was all physical. He looked so ‘70s, huh?
What is interesting, however, is the relatively young ages of the Bachelors in the Meredith line-up. One cannot withdraw from the current, though inevitably inconstant, feminist zeitgeist that recoils from long held, say, “traditional” age ranges of dating couples, which roundly suggested that a man is usually older than the woman he is courting. This is now considered “patriarchal” and, yes, even “oppressive,” and women are dating, courting, seducing, and marrying “men” much younger than themselves; this amid complaints that “older” men cannot keep up physically, sexually, and are boringly ancient (read: unprogressive) intellectually. There is also the quandary that many of today’s post-modern women have their own successful careers and have cemented personal lifestyle proclivities that they fear will be sidetracked if they attach themselves to an “older man,” who will usually chafe at changing his own also well established, professional life. So, the much younger man is malleable, basically, and is able to bang the headboards for 12 hours. And an “older man” simply means a man who is, well, older. Like a year older.
Notably, of the initial 25 men that boarded the five Meredith-bound limousines, 11 of them, less than half, were older than Meredith, who is now 30. Of these 11, only 3 were older than 32. The oldest was a measly 36. Post-Rose Ceremony, of the 15 remaining bachelors, only 1 is older than 32---the 36-year-old San Franciscan, Todd. And, 10 of the remaining 15 are younger than Meredith, or of the same age. This must say something about the regnant sweep of childism. Does nothing appear more impure and tainted, any longer, than what is construed as a serious-minded adult?
There are, and were, many apt superlatives to cherish upon Ms. Meredith Philips, but there was one phrase spoken during this opening Bachelorette episode that seemed the most appropriate summation of her obvious charm, spoken with a simple, estimable clarity. Marcus, a 27-year-old African-American, said in a voice-over, “she’s a classy, timeless woman.” That’s about it in a nutshell. Her manner is universal, guileless, human, touching, honest, elegant, funny, robust. And she is beautiful. The fact that she evolved from an “unbelievably shy” childhood---according to mother Sandy---only reiterates the obvious depth of her knowing and character. Being, at one time, withdrawn and hidden, only widens the latitudes of one’s consciousness and adorns the mind with multitudinous self-realized raptures and symphonies. Meredith is surely having the time of her life now... able to release her buried wonderment amid a joyous, though highly odd, departure in her unfolding. These following weeks of Meredith as The Bachelorette---captured frightfully well and mesmerizingly in the show ending coming attractions trailer---should be a ride. Blessedly, Meredith blossoms before us. Hopefully, some of the men before her will have the spiritual warp---a level of maturity?---to join her.
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