Recipe for Disaster:

• 1 cup of 27-Year-Old Virgin

• 1 tbsp of Deep Shame

• 3 cups of Not Interested in Colton in the Slightest

• 1 tsp of Not Here for the Right Reasons

• 1/2 cup of The Completely Wrong Bachelorette 

• 1 tbsp of Utter Secondhand Embarrassment  

• 1 dash of Live Television 

Directions:

• Add the 27-Year-Old Virgin, the Not Interested in Colton in the Slightest, and the Not Here for the Right Reasons into a large bowl and mix well until blended.  

• Add Deep Shame to the top of the mixture and transition into a baking pan. Bake for 30 minutes at 350° F then let cool for 20 minutes.

• In a pestle, add The Completely Wrong Bachelorette and the Utter Secondhand Embarrassment. Crush and blend with mortar until you have a fine powder. 

• Add the Live Television to the pestle and stir for two minutes, or until you have a smooth paste.

• When the mixture has cooled, spread the pestle paste on top and let sit for 10 minutes.

• Bone app the teeth!

Oh boy, kids, have we got an epic fucking fail of a season finale for you today! In true Murphy’s Law fashion, anything that can go wrong has gone wrong, and for that, we are both eternally grateful and eternally trapped in a hell of our own making. 

You’d think that, after such an utterly disastrous season, the Producers would attempt to course correct and present us with a finale that didn’t blow massive chunks. Or at least you'd think that the Producers would present us with a new Bachelorette that would win back the hearts of Bachelor Nation—a Bachelorette that was a little older, a little wiser, a little more grounded. 

But you would be wrong. How many times do I have to fucking say this—we are in hell. WE ARE IN HELL. We have sinned far too many times, and this is our fate. 

In the immortal words of R.L. Stein: reader beware, you’re in for a scare.

Let’s dive in.

Meet the Fockers

When we last saw our intrepid virgin, he was knocking at Cassie’s door post-massacre (RIP Tayshia and Hannah G) and was determined to “give it another go” with Cassie, which is fucking rich because she dumped his ass after telling him she didn’t love him and didn’t want to be with him.

Fun!

But because Colton is a stunted man-baby and doesn’t understand that “I don’t want to be with you” means “I don’t want to be with you,” he’s determined to win the (third) girl of his dreams (this year alone).

“She completes me!” he tells the cameras stubbornly, as we cut to a scene of Cassie blissfully packing her belongings so she can flee both Colton and the country. 

I really, really hoped that either A) Cassie’s dad was going to answer the door when Colton came a knockin’ or B) Cassie was going to slam the door in his face. Of course neither of those things happened, and instead Cassie reluctantly allows Colton to waste a little more of her time.

“I sent Tayshia and Hannah home,” he tells her, practically beaming with hope and excitement.

Cassie promptly panics, eyes rolling wildly in her head. “Oh? You did?? That’s crazy!” she laughs, entirely unhinged. Perhaps if she wasn’t a 23-year-old opportunist that had already been on another reality dating show she’d show Colton the kindness of kicking him to the curb (again) but the combination of panic and the visions of Fit Tea sponsorships dancing in her head are a lethal combo.

“Oh wow,” she finally says, trying to smile and cry at the same time. Bitch looks like Two-Face at this point. 

In a display of shocking, immediate ineptitude, Cassie agrees to now be Colton’s sweetheart, and to go meet his parents, who are panicking in the Portuguese countryside.

Poor Mama and Papa Colton. They know how fucking dense their son is, and they’ve seen him get his heart broken twice already this year, and they know Cassie is 100% Not Here for the Right Reasons. 

Which makes it all the more delicious when the two show up, and Cassie pretends like this family gathering is her audition for The Bachelorette. Bitch, that ship has fucking sailed. But we will see you in Paradise!

Colton’s dad in particular is having a very difficult time with this. After Cassie essentially says she’s now invested/in love “because Colton dumped the two other women for her,” he drags his dense stump of a son aside for an urgent tête-à-tête.

“I don’t want to see you get your heart broken,” he tells Colton pointedly, nearly dripping with sweat because he can see just how this disaster is going to unfold. Colton’s a fucking idiot, but he doesn’t deserve to have this heart (yet again) pounded into a fine fucking powder. 

Meanwhile, Cassie—living fully up to her reputation amongst the other women this season—is hamming it up for the cameras, suddenly completely in love with Colton despite him making her skin crawl 0.5 seconds before this all went down.

Cassie: fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you. Every single person that knows Cassie IRL and/or has any insider ties to this has already come out and very publicly declared that Cassie has absolutely no feelings for Colton whatsoever, and is literally just doing this for her fleeting shot at fame.

So, let me reiterate: Cassie, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you.

Next! 

Risky Business

Since Cassie thoroughly ruined their first run at a Fantasy Suite, the Producers decide to destroy us all with another attempt.

“Will Colton lose his virginity??” Zaddy Chris Harrison screams in the studio, while the audience weeps, screams, and cheers in the background. 

Since no Fantasy Suite is complete without the risk of loss of life or limb, we begin this Round 2 of Horrors by having our disastrous duo decide to…rappel down a cliff to have a picnic on the beach. I don’t know what’s with this show and it’s love of nearly killing its contestants—nor what’s with its deep love for awkward picnics—but here we are. Again.

Cassie is babbling away in faux excitement, and I gotta say, it’s fucking gross. Look, I GET that she’s 23. And super religious. And super stunted. And super immature, because no one is mature at 23. BUT. 

• This is the same woman that was just on another reality dating show.

• That wrapped up filming JUST before The Bachelor. 

• And she was dating her ex. 

• Until JUST before The Bachelor. 

• And she has zero interest in Colton. 

• And it’s already come out that she and Caelynn were in this only for the fame. 

• And literally everyone that’s ever interacted with her in real life is spilling the tea. 

• Constantly. 

• So.

“If I’m going to commit to a relationship, it’s because I see it going somewhere,” Cassie lies through her teeth at one point, gazing at Colton adoringly, as she tries to keep the bile in her throat from spilling out.

YOU DIDN’T SEE THIS GOING ANYWHERE LITERALLY 24 HOURS AGO, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE FOOLING, CASSIE?

Anyway, of course the Fantasy Card, pre-written by a 13-year-old intern, is delivered, and the two scamper off for the ultimate Will They/Won’t They nonsense of all fucking times.

Look, I’m gonna come right out and say it: If Cassie takes Colton's virginity I'm going to LEGIT BE REALLY FUCKING ANGRY because—and I can't believe I'm saying this, but—Colton deserves SO MUCH FUCKING MORE.

Colton is an idiot, but he’s a good guy. He doesn’t really play games—yes, he didn’t handle this breakup with Tayshia or Hannah G particularly well, but that’s because he’s never actually been in an adult relationship, and he doesn’t have the maturity or the depth to deal with the intricacies of actual breakups and relationships. Could he have handled them better? Yes. Did any of that come from a place of malice? Absolutely not.

He’s like a particularly slow Golden Retriever—sort of good when it comes to playing fetch, feels his emotions very strongly without understanding them, and trusts people way too much. He’s already been humiliated numerous times on national TV, and he doesn’t deserve more of it.

Alas, that’s not the world we live in.

Off to the Fantasy Suite we go! 

Bring In the Panel of Experts

If by “panel of experts” we mean “dumpster fire” then sure. Since we need to drag out the WILL THEY OR WON’T THEY Fantasy Suite sequence, the Producers torture us with more Bachelorverse “favorites” which is a fucking stretch. Sure, Demi’s there, which is wonderful (“I hope Cassie jumps him like a Portuguese fence!” she exclaims) but she’s joined by Chris “The Goose” Randone, fucking Onyeka, and, ONCE AGAIN, Ben Higgins. 

Why, Producers? Why? Why is Ben your golden child for this season? Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t take it anymore.

So our “panel of experts” mostly just discuss whether or not a super religious 23-year-old virgin and a stunted 26-year-old virgin are going to bang outside of marriage essentially on national TV, while throwing in hilarious quips like this gem from Chris:

“Krystal and I didn’t have sex in our Fantasy Suite, we just had a long, deep discussion about life and what we wanted.”

LOL yeah okay, Chris. There’s a better chance of Colton actually getting laid than you and Krystal not banging in the Suite. Just because you only lasted 2.2 seconds doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. This fucking bitch.

When we cut back to the Suite, we see the tantalizing scenes of what appears to be a shirt artfully thrown on the floor, and then have to see our 38473743784th scene of Colton naked and soaping his nips in the shower. DRINK.

During a confessional after, a Producer slyly says, “Care to tell what happened?”

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” Colton says, smiling awkwardly.

WAIT.

BACK. THE FUCK. UP.

Are you fucking KIDDING me?? In a season dedicated SOLELY to Colton’s virginity—like legit, Colton played second fiddle this entire time to his own intact maidenhead—you’re going to THEN PRETEND LIKE THIS IS A PRIVATE THING?? The ONE time you come even VAGUELY close enough to getting your dick wet, you then decide to PLAY FUCKING COY?

GOD, FUCK. I HATE THIS FUCKING SHOW.

Just to hammer that point home, a beaming Cassie is then trotted out in a white jumpsuit, and honestly, I cannot fucking take the lies and the in-your-face virginity nonsense, and EVERYTHING about this fucking show. 

Cassie is beaming so hard it looks like it hurts, and yet she has zero chemistry with Colton, appears wooden and entirely uninterested in him, and seems to only be moving forward because that fucking Sugar Bear Hair deal is so close. 

“We’re finally on the same page!” Colton trills, laughing in delight. “I can’t wait to wake up next to her over and over again!”

Yeah, okay there, stud. We all know there’s no way she’s letting him sleep in the same bed as her, unless she makes him curl up at the foot like a fucking dog. 

“Where does your relationship stand?” asks Zaddy Harrison, twisting the knife even deeper.

“We’re in love!” Colton gushes excitedly.

“Yeah. I love Colton.” Cassie frowns, wondering if she’s sold the act enough. 

She hasn’t.

To perfectly sum up this entire fucking season, fucking Air Supply is then trotted out to play a song live, and Colton And Cassie pretend like they have any fucking idea who the fuck Air Supply is, as they’re forced to dance awkwardly in front of a live fucking audience and everyone watching from home. Dance, puppets, dance!

And that’s it. There’s no proposal, no Neil Lane carcass hauled up on stage, no nothing. Our two fucking morons sway to the sounds of a 6-month-max relationship, and that’s it.

Until it isn’t.

Let the Wrong One In

Oh, you didn’t think this torture fest was over, did you?

No, kids, it’s not even remotely over yet. Why would we just let this nightmare end, when we could officially announce the new Bachelorette and force Bachelor Nation to watch her derail her entire season before it even begins?

Unless you’re Hellen Keller (and if so, can we please change places?) you know by now that—DRUMROLL PLEASE—the next Bachelorette is…

HANNAH ALABAMA!

That’s right! Our newly 24-year-old, toast-forgetting, kung fu fighting, stuttering mess of a woman is the next Bachelorette!! She of the “I failed because I lost my virginity!” and Hannah Beast alter ego. She of the endless mystery feuds and inability to speak under pressure. That’s our girl! 

After a disastrous season of Colton and his gaggle of early 20-something idiots, I stupidly held out hope that we’d have another Rachel (or hell, even another Becca) but NOPE. Fucking nope. We get to watch a girl that just fucking graduated from college parade around with a group of frat bros, making an utter mockery of commitment and the institution of marriage. 

We’re treated to the moment when Hannah was told she’s the next Bachelorette, and if it’s any indication to how her season is gonna go, woof. It’s gonna be a doozy.

Zaddy Chris Harrison FaceTimes her to tell her the good news, to which she…sort of just…covers her mouth with her hand and blinks a lot, showing 0.0% personality. Like yeah, okay, I guess she could be in shock, but given that it’s Hannah B, I don’t buy it. It goes down kind of like this:

• Zaddy: Hannah, Do you want to be the next Bachelorette??

• Hannah: …

• Zaddy: Hannah?

• Hanna: …

• Zaddy: Hannah.

• Hannah: …

Tit-i-llating, people. 

And of course it doesn’t stop there. 

Given that Hannah’s such a pro when it comes to surprises and operating under pressure, Zaddy Harrison reveals that her season starts…NOW!

Which five fucking idiots from her season are revealed? Let’s see:

• Luke #1: who flatly declares that “you’re the only one I wanted to be the next Bachelorette”

• Dustin: who comes out with two glasses of champagne and forces her to relive her toast-forgetting nightmare on national television

• Cam: who’s painfully white and promptly launches into rap so bad that it gives me secondhand embarrassment that physically hurts

• Connor: who I can’t tell if he’s 12 or 13 (although I’m sure if you ask him, he’ll say “12-and-a-half!”) but he brings out a stool so they’re on the same level or what the fuck ever

• Luke #2 aka Luke S: who charmingly says “I don’t go to the South much, but for you I’d go down anytime” and that’s a joke about oral sex HA HA GET IT, GET IT

Hannah literally can’t string together a coherent sentence during any of this, instead stuttering awkwardly, repeatedly apologizing because this “is so new to her,” and spinning in weird circles because she doesn’t know how to pose for the fucking cameras. 

The entire studio audience is quiet, watching this disaster sink itself before it even begins. 

Because they can’t read their audience, and because they wouldn’t fucking care otherwise, the Producers decide to make Hannah do her first Rose Ceremony of the season. She manages one okay joke before she—of course—picks Cam the Rapper. She also manages to nearly kill him by attempting to pin the rose to his chest, and then remembers she didn’t ask him if he accepts this rose, and then she doesn’t remember what the actual language for this all is.

UNTIL THE BACHELORETTE!