The worst thing about Arie's season of The Bachelor was Arie, which is fitting because the worst thing about Becca's season of The Bachelorette is also Arie. This is an impressive feat, given that Arie has yet to make a physical appearance on the show (keyword being "yet") but oh, does it feel like he's here.

Maybe it was the endless parade of comments from special guests Rachel and Bryan (who seemed to have been utterly drained of any and all personality--welcome to committed relationships!) during the annual Running of the Suitors. Maybe it was the ceaseless questioning of whether Becca was over the illustrious Dutch racer. Maybe it was the Lil Jon fever-dream date in which he serenaded Becca and Blake with the dulcet tones of "Turn Down for What" as they took sledgehammers to memories of Arie. Race car? Check. Screens showing his proposal? Check. The couch he broke up with Becca on? Check. Lauren's vacant, soulless eyes? No, but don't we all wish.

But if I'm making it seem like it was a bad episode, I'm doing a disservice to Bachelor Nation, because we got to watch a group of grown ass men fight and cry over a picture, tattle on each other the first chance they get, wax poetic about pegasuses, and parade around in shorty shorts to prove themselves. And remember, ladies, men are the ones saying "women are too emotional and sensitive to be in positions of power." What a time to be alive.

Now onto the fun! Or, in the immortal words of Jordan, living legend and male model extraordinaire, "Tick tock, let's make it rock!"

We begin the episode with a montage of Becca being very Minnesotian and tooling around on a bike with a voiceover about being *~ready~* to move on after heartbreak, etc. etc. etc. And as my group of girlfriends always say, what better way to get over a man than to sit in a room with like 15 dudes while they strip for your pleasure? (My friends are a little intense.)

Thus we find our "we-swear-she's-plucky! --ABC" Bachelorette lounging in yet another wedding dress, tittering awkardly as a gaggle of men strip down to their skivvies and struggle into tuxedos. The men think they're off to the alter to drop the dopest album of 2018...

...but surprise! It is, indeed, the annual Running of the Suitors, and who better to host it than Rachel and Bryan? Okay, so Mila and Ashton were better last season, but whatever.

In this frightful display of pseudo-masculinity, we bear witness to tuxedo-clad men traversing an obstacle course with events stamped "Ball + Chain" and "Cold Feet" and "Slippery Slope" because, kids, marriage is terrible and no one should ever do it. Especially not these ludicrous yokels, who make it a mere 3 minutes before Lincoln wins and they all begin whinging on about him cheating and whatever.

Lincoln simultaneously takes top prize and bottom place with his segue into The Season's Villian, giving Krystal and her vocal fry a run for their money when, upon planting a wet one on Becca's lips post-date, he squarbles out "Kissing Becca is like flying to the moon on the wings of a Pegasus!"

Wait, let me fix that:

Wait, still not right, let's try:

There, fixed it.

In classic Villian fashion, Lincoln immediately finds a way to stuff his Moment of Closeness with Becca (TM) in everyone else's faces, this time by carrying around a framed picture of their iconic alter moment that Becca bestowed upon them. He also kisses the picture repeatedly, which is what I can only assume Krystal does every night with a framed picture of her and Arie she Photoshopped together, but that's neither here nor there.

So Lincoln parades around the house and annoys everyone, but none so much as Connor, who displays a shocking amount of Future Abusive Boyfriend Status as he snaps, snarls, and eventually slings said picture frame off the balcony, where it shatters somewhere off-camera before splashing dramatically into the pool.

Becca, who's been lauded for her sanity and take-no-shit 'tude doesn't send Connor home immediately after Lincoln tattles on him, which is yet another sign in this endless nightmare that she's going to pick someone utterly horrible and one-way-or-another abusive to be her short-term fiancé. Cool!

Speaking of beatings, we move onto the very first 1:1 with Blake, whoever the hell that is.

Sure.

We now have what's at once The Best Date in Bachelor Nation history and The Worst Date in Bachelor Nation history as we combine an endless barrage of Arie memories with an amazing moment of Lil Jon screaming "Turn Down for What" in the background. Oh, you didn't think I was serious about this date? I was serious as a heart attack.

Afterward, Becca and Blake go on a date, pretend to eat food, he gets a rose, yadda yadda yadda. Honestly, it's like watching milk curdle with these two, so I tuned out pretty quickly.

Sensing our collective boredom, ABC upped the ante with a group dodgeball date for the next round of suitors, which was delightful. Leo and his hair truly shined. "Winning doesn't come from bicep curls or tricep extensions," he waxed. "It comes from having a good heart." Atta boy, Leo, you set 'em up and we'll just keep knockin' 'em on down.

Then it's time for the post-date toasts and drama-thon!

My bb Jordan steals the scene (when doesn't he steal the scene) by strutting out in shorty shorts to impress Becca. He of course interrupts Chicken Suit David (their bromance/brofeud is everything) which kicks off an epic squabble, made all the better by Jordan draping himself in a pink faux-mink blanket while the two argue over the proper pronunciation of whatever the word for un-genuine is (they think it's ingenuity, but it is not).

Jordan, in a pink-mink huff, finally snaps "It's called ingu-en-en-ity, is what it's called!" God, I love this sentient Malibu Ken doll.

But Jordan and David's insanity is overshadowed by Colton, who proudly takes the reigns and blurts out that he dated fellow Arie-season alum--and supposed Becca friend--Tia. Whatever. Becca seems far more perturbed at the idea of becoming Eskimo Sisters with Tia than she did with Connor's overt aggression issues, but we all know Colton's sticking around until we at least get to the bottom of Virgin Gate '18, coming soon to a Bachelorette episode near you.

That's what she said.

Blah blah blah, more stuff happens, and we get to the night's climax, The War of the Roses--and for once, with this group, it feels like it's been forever.

The Rose Winners
Were there really any winners this week? Debatable. Blake of course is safe, and along with him is Lincoln (sans picture), Connor (who claimed he was a *~changed man~* pre-ceremony, which is textbook abuser, but sure), Jordan (still wrapped in the pink mink), David (sans Chicken Suit), Leo with the Good Hair, Mike with the Man Bun, Chris (not Christon), The Banjoist, John the Venmo dude, Garrett the Racist, Clay, Christon (not Chris), The Cologneisseur, and Nick and Jason (whoever the hell they are). Oh, and Colton did get the final rose, after much faux debate. Of course.

The Rose Losers
Normally this part fills me with glee, but this week we said goodbye to Rickey (who?) and Trent (who I also didn't know until I double checked, and oh yeah, he was on the cover of that romance novel) and Alex. Now Alex I couldn't remember for the life of me, but he seemed so genuinely sad to go that it kind of broke my heart when he got teary eyed outside. Realistically, it was probably from having to spend so much time with those idiots, and from having to spend upwards of 30 hours filming the damn Rose Ceremony, but boo, I'm here for you.

Until next time, Bachelor Nation!