The Opposite of What to Do

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The Bachelorette S15 E11: The Luke P Show

The closest thing to watching the Men Tell All episode I can imagine is the infamous aversion therapy scene from A Clockwork Orange. Even though I was willingly watching on a couch with my fourth glass of wine, every single part of me felt like I was aggressively strapped to a painful wooden chair by ill-meaning agents of the state, had my eyes pried and held open, and no matter what I did, could not escape the horror unfolding in front of me.

Yeah, Luke P, I’m fucking talking about you.

Over the course of 2 hours, we were forced to bear witness to roughly 1 hour and 45 minutes of Luke’s misogynistic ramblings, hateful outbursts, obvious lies, panicked silences, and endless gaslighting. Then, at the fucking end, they had Hannah get up and apologize for forcing us to bear witness not only to this monstrosity, but the utter abomination that was Luke this entire fucking season. 

So let’s back the fuck up here.

ABC had the woman that Luke was abusing—the one he was gaslighting, guilting, manipulating, shaming, and mindfucking—APOLOGIZE FOR HIS FUCKING ACTIONS. 

Given that this is the franchise that didn’t do proper background checks on:

  • Lincoln

  • Garrett

  • Leo

  • Motherfucking Goose

  • Tyler G

  • Jed

  • Peter the Pilot

  • Cam

  • That fucking guy this season that didn’t even make it to Night 1 because he had been harassing the fuck out of women in DMs

  • Whoever the fuck it was that FBI!Demi discovered had a girlfriend on Night

(here I’m only listing out the last two fucking seasons of The Bachelorette)

…and the franchise that, when it came out that its creator had physically assaulted his own pregnant wife, basically gave a collective shrug emoji and refused to address it…

…I shouldn’t be surprised that they either:

A) forced Hannah to apologize for the behavior of a grown-ass fucking man or

B) willingly let Hannah to apologize for the behavior of a grown-ass fucking man

After gleefully allowing Hannah to be abused all fucking season long; after gleefully allowing Luke P’s abusive behavior to be endlessly broadcast and normalized all fucking season long; after allowing impressionable women and women that have been abused in similar ways to have to watch this shit all fucking season long; I’m not even remotely surprised that this group of chicken-shit, soulless opportunists see no fucking problem in putting the burden and responsibility of an abusive man solely on the woman he was abusing. 

Because who else’s fucking fault would it be, ABC, right?

FUCK I hate this show. I’m not even saying that with a dollop of humor this time. This season has made me fucking hate this show so much that I’m seriously wondering if I can do another season of it. How much more bullshit can we watch ABC force their leading ladies into before we all fucking snap?

Now, this recap dives really only into what happened on air, but if you want a look at the true depths of its horrors, check out this Reddit thread from an audience member. Turns out that Luke flailed on for over two fucking hours. There was a Luke farting blooper that the audience reacted to with icy indifference. There were multiple verbal fights between Luke and the other contestants. There were numerous times where Zaddy Chris Harrison was seemingly struck speechless over Luke’s horribleness. But that, for the moment, is neither here nor there.

Let’s dive in.

The Rose Ceremony

We didn’t get a Rose Ceremony last episode, what with Hannah finally sending Luke packing after he unleashed a torrent of misogynistic hate on her for daring to be in charge of her own vagina. We don’t get an actual Rose Ceremony this episode either, because why would we fucking get rid of Luke once and for all when we could drag this shit out for fucking ever? But we do get a portion of the Rose Ceremony, which is, of course, more of The Luke P Show.

Hannah, thinking she’s finally freed of Luke’s tiny-yet-potent villainy, sashays into the ceremony wearing some kind of ‘90s abomination that I can only assume she purchased—with the aid of a time machine—from a 1997 mega-mall’s Limited Too.

But alas, even time-traveling dresses can’t save our heroine from the never-ending nightmare that is Luke. While Hannah is distracted by a pre-ceremony check-in with Zaddy, our tiny, tiny, tiny excuse for a man pulls right up in a van and hurls himself into the Rose Ceremony. Turns out that the bros don’t know he was booted off, and Luke, being Luke, decides not to tell them. 

“Here comes your favorite,” Tyler says dryly, rolling his eyes. God, he has no idea how accurate that statement is right now.

When Hannah reappears on screen to join the bros, you can see her face drop. Her reaction was so deep, so immediate, and so horrified that I literally thought her face was going to drop right off her skull and puddle at her feet. 

She demands to know why Luke is there and tells him he needs to go. Luke, despite being roughly the size of a lawn gnome, stands his ground and refuses to go. 

The highest of highs, and the lowest of lows (ABC)

“This is not about you!” Hannah erupts, mere seconds away from ripping out clumps of her own hair.

“I know this isn’t about me,” Luke says, as he then says in the same breath, “but I need closure and I need—“ insert a litany of things Luke thinks Hannah owes him here. Jesus fucking Christ in a shower, is this guy a fucking psychopath or what? 

It’s almost—ALMOST—fascinating. How can a conventionally attractive, fanatically Christian white man from the south that’s also privileged in every way possibly be so obtuse and awful and misogynistic and abusive and—

My god, the world will never know.

Anyway, Luke keeps on standing his ground, even when Hannah physically picks up the rose table and drags it away from him. He keeps on standing his ground even when the bros confront him. In fact, he keeps standing his ground right until Tyler towers over him and essentially says he’s ready to beat him into a sticky pulp whenever Hannah or Zaddy or the Producers or literally anyone on this earth gives him the word. 

Luke’s only kryptonite is another white, privileged, conventionally good-looking man that happens to be half a foot taller than him. Oh, the humanity!

But even a looming Tyler isn’t quite enough to shut Luke the fuck up.

“Can you tell me you don’t want me?” He whines to Hannah, turning red.

“I don’t want you,” she snaps. 

“Can you tell me you don’t love me?” He insists, as though somehow she’s going to realize—after now rejecting him twice—that she loves him.

“I don’t love you,” she grinds out, while Tyler stares menacingly (yet respectfully) in the background. 

All the while, this motherfucking fool has a ring in his pocket. Now, granted, it’s been discussed that this was almost certainly a prop from the Producers, but:

A) Luke is such a fucking psycho that he would most definitely jump at the chance to still propose to Hannah, and 

B) WHY THE FUCK DID THE PRODUCERS GIVE THIS ABUSIVE, GASLIGHTING MISOGYNIST THAT’S ALREADY BEEN DUMPED ON NATIONAL TV A FUCKING RING? WHY ARE THEY ENCOURAGING HIM TO LITERALLY KEEP ABUSING HANNAH? HOW MUCH DO THEY FUCKING HATE HANNAH? HOW MUCH DO THEY FUCKING HATE WOMEN?

FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

In the Hot Seat: Luke

Finally we leave the tattered Rose Ceremony and go back to the studio audience setting, but this isn’t the break we desperately need, given that we go right into yet another manic Luke parade. 

“I just don’t understand,” he tells Zaddy stupidly, his minuscule brain struggling to understand how a woman could possibly have the autonomy to reject him—HIM! The guy god came to in the shower to tell him to keep his dick in his pants!

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing,” he double-downs, as the audience collectively shakes their head, mutters angrily, and rolls their eyes. Seriously. Every single pan to the audience while Luke is on stage is just an endless array of angry and horrified reactions. 

The entire time, he looks like an evil fucking ventriloquist dummy. Just look at this shit:

What the actual fuck (ABC)

Luke says a barrage of horrible, misogynistic, abusive, gaslighting-filled bullshit, while entirely refusing to take even one iota of responsibility of his actions. And when he isn’t picking fights with the bros, insulting Hannah, or flabbergasting Zaddy with his stupidity, he’s gaping like a fucking imbecile, because his tiny ass fucking brain is the equivalent of a Neanderthal rubbing two stones together and not understanding why he can’t get a spark. Luke can’t think on his feet—or much at all—and despite his incessant lying, isn’t prepared with enough lies to keep himself afloat when called on his myriad of bullshit.

I don’t even want to get into all of the dumb fucking shit that spewed out of Luke’s mouth during his time on stage, because I firmly believe we’ve allowed enough abusive behavior this season from him to last several fucking lifetimes. 

Luckily Mike—because he’s amazing—steps in and sums Luke up so succinctly it nearly brought me to tears:

“Luke, you’re a narcissistic, cantankerous misogynist. Your future wife is going to be a prisoner of you.”

“I wish I’d said this earlier,” Connor S perfectly interjects. “Luke—go fuck yourself.”

Luke is a pathetic, terrified, sniveling little shit who will end up getting violent with a woman in the future. The best thing at this point (outside of committing him so that he can never hurt anyone) is to wipe our collective memory of him and never speak of him again. Ever. Effective immediately. 

In the Spotlight: John Paul Jones

Blessedly, we boot He Who Shall Not Be Named off stage and bring in the world’s greatest head of hair—John Paul Jones! He’s the one whose friends call him John Paul Jones, and whose parents call him John Paul Jones, and whose everyone else calls him John Paul Jones. On a scale of 1 to 10, John Paul Jones loves himself a John Paul Jones, and I am fucking here for it. Hannah apologizes for dumping him, and he basically says it’s all good, he didn’t care much anyway, and yet he says it in such a Chill Frat Bro (TM) way that we can’t help but love him even more. 

John. Paul. Jones. (ABC)

John Paul Jones is a hilarious caricature of a human being, and that makes him so wonderful. At the end of his segment, a planted audience member comes out to discuss chicken nuggets with him, then Zaddy bestows a plate of chicken nuggets on him, and then he promptly tosses the chicken nuggets into the audience like the little chicken nugget he is. #JohnPaulJonesForPresident2020

In the Spotlight: Mike

Oh, Mike. Has there every been anyone (other than Tyler) that’s ever been as wonderful as Mike? Zaddy, because he’s kind of Satan-ish, dives into the miscarriage that Mike’s ex-girlfriend had. It’s a raw and pointed (if somewhat needlessly painful) moment. While I think we’d all rather not focus on that, it does something interesting—it reminds us that Mike is the only other person this season besides Tyler to actually show depth, personality, and character. 

Think about it:

  • Cam: Just lunacy

  • He Who Shall Not Be Named: Just evil

  • Peter the Pilot: Just German yodeling and condoms in cars

  • Jed: Just his own self-promotion

  • Garrett: Just deli meat fighting

  • John Paul Jones: Just hair

  • Connor S: ??

  • Dylan: ??

  • Jonathan: ??

  • Whoever the Fuck the Rest of Them Were: ???????

99.9% of the contestants this season have been nameless, faceless nothings. They’ve had no personality, no charm, no wit, no interests or goals or dreams that we know of. They’ve basically been a parade of bros that Hannah’s shrugged at. 

Anyway.

Pure perfection (ABC)

Mike is just wonderful. He’s charming and funny and warm and kind. He’s insightful and thoughtful and mature. He’s brave and intuitive and respectful. 

So of course he was sent the fuck home.

In the Spotlight: Hannah

Oh, Hannah. 

Look, I feel for Hannah. I really, really do. I’ve been really harsh on her this season, and that’s not entirely fair.

I mean it’s true that she’s immature and ill-prepared for the emotional realities of marriage. It’s true that she’s stunted and confused and has literally no idea what she wants out of life. It’s true that she confuses lust with love, and wouldn’t know what real love was if it hit her in the face with a cement truck. It’s true that she’s awkward and weird and kind of annoying. It’s true that she has no idea how to lead a show, and watching her is painful and kind of obnoxious.

Where was I again?

Oh, right. Okay so yes, all of those things are true, but what’s also true is that Hannah is kind and hopeful and optimistic. She’s sweet and can sometimes be charming. She’s willing to take risks and try new things, whether it be bungee jumping mostly naked in Latvia, or crying on camera as she tries to decipher the genuinely good feelings she has for Tyler and his endless respect for her. 

And regardless of her pros and cons, she does not deserve the horrific abuse she suffered from Luke this season. No one deserves that. Some of you may be rolling your eyes and thinking “cool it, bitch, it wasn’t that bad,” but here’s the thing—it is that bad. This kind of behavior is insidious and extremely damaging. It can sneak up on even the seemingly strongest of us. It starts small but snowballs so fucking quickly it turns into an avalanche. 

As someone who’s dealt with her fair share of horrific gaslighting from someone she loved, I can tell you that this kind of behavior fucks you the fuck up. Even a few weeks of this shit can mean months of putting yourself back together and learning how to trust again. When this behavior happens, you start to doubt your own judgment and perception. “Mindfuck” is far too kind a term for it. 

This show allowed Hannah to suffer through this for weeks, and then have it all thrown back in her face on national fucking TV. This show monetized her abuse. Gleefully. This show put an engagement ring in her abuser’s pocket and encouraged his psychotic fantasies by allowing him to get back to her after she made the decision to send him the fuck home.

This is going to be a fucking disaster to recover from, and it genuinely breaks my heart. 

Anyway, let’s talk about fashion, baby.

Walk walk, etc. etc. (ABC)

Hannah comes out in a snakeskin mini-dress that redeems her earlier ‘90s nightmare. She’s clearly super nervous, and spends the first few minutes of her spotlight time being awkward and unfunny. Classic Hannah. 

She then spends a serious chunk of time laying into He Who Shall Not Be Named. A part of me is very happy about this, because A) it’s so incredibly necessary, and B) there’s nothing more satisfying than watching a pussy of a man get his ass handed to him on national TV, but again, any additional second spent on He Who Shall Not Be Named is a travesty, so.

Luckily, after that nonsense, it’s time for a brief tête-à-tête with Mike! About fucking time! 

Hannah gushes on about how great he is, and then launches into WHAT APPEARS TO BE AN ANNOUNCEMENT THAT MIKE IS THE NEXT BACHELOR except that of fucking course it’s a fake-out. Which isn’t to say that he isn’t the next Bachelor, but this franchise is pure fucking evil, so it’ll probably be Leo or something. 

She then closes out her time in the spotlight by saying to the bros “Maybe if any one of you told me about He Who Must Not Be Named!” Which prompts them to all tear their own faces off their own skulls in frustration and horror. 

The Blooper Reel

It only seems fitting that this season’s Blooper Reel is the fucking worst of all time, given that this season is the fucking worst of all time. There’s a few shots of the bros suffering through the labor simulator (and Jason fucking Biggs, whose appearance I’m still fucking baffled by, screaming a lot when he has a go at it); there’s a super awkward Jed makeout session where we see just how close the fucking cameras are on them during this shit as a cameraman sort of climbs onto the bed with them; there’s a quick montage of John Paul Jones being John Paul Jones; and then that’s fucking it.

Hannah gives her apology for Luke (DON’T FUCKING GET ME STARTED AGAIN) and that’s it. THAT’S IT. THAT’S FUCKING IT. WELCOME TO HELL, BACHELOR NATION.

Until next week! Fuck.