Has Reality Steve, he of the all-knowing, all-seeing, unscripted-television eye, been hoodwinked? The famed blogger long ago fingered Minnie-Mouse-voiced Whitney as the winner of Farmer Chris’ heart and the season, but after last week’s episode featured the couple posing as fiancés during a show-staged wedding crashing, Steve’s presumed insider knowledge is in question. People—although which people, I don’t know—are now asking if his source was in fact a credulous wedding guest, catering staff person, or distressingly low-brow clergyperson who came forward to name Whitney as Chris’s bride-to-be.
Well played, producers, well played. You’ve assured that Reality Steve has blown the ratings wind out of your sails for the last time. The only better twist to this development would be if Chris had rejected all the bachelorettes, and instead gotten engaged to a bridesmaid he met that night while doing the Cat Daddy.
Just a warning: Weather updates may interrupt, since I’m on the East Coast with Snowmageddon rudely hogging everyone’s attention like it’s Ashley S. As if an entire metropolitan center being crippled by record levels of ice-cold precipitation is more important than the outcome of Chris’s next one-on-one date.
We begin with Chris the Host addressing the assembled women. He reiterates the talking point of how Chris sees his wife in that room. Hope no one was in the bathroom just then. There are two group dates and one one-on-one this week. The catch is that Chris’s three sisters are going to decide whom he will take on the one-on-one, so extra-small thongs will not be to the women’s advantage for once.
The group date is described as “let’s do what feels natural.” After all the women slather on make-up and hairspray in preparation, they take off in a couple of vintage convertibles and arrive at a lake. “Obviously, you can see we’re at a lake,” Chris informs the group. It’s that kind of acumen that makes him such a resounding success in Iowa.
Everyone strips down to their bathing suits. Chris wants to see how they react to being outdoors, which is not their natural habitat. Kaitlyn decides that means pulling off her bikini bottom before leaping into the water. A very disgruntled Kelsey calls her a bimbo.
As the remaining women lounge around the house, they worry about the sisters’ assessment of them. The Soules Sisters are three blonds, one of whom lives in Ireland for unexplained reasons.
Jillian is unhappy that she has to stagger inside with her black-barred bikinied bottom hanging out. The sisters, who are all gorgeous, meet with Whitney first. She feels the conversation flows very easily, only because she doesn’t have to listen to her own voice. The sisters then ask Britt if there’s a frontrunner for winner. She is confident she is. I bet her LinkedIn profile has her endorsing herself for all kinds of skills.
They’re also really hitting hard on the question of moving to Iowa. Most of the women agree to make that sacrifice. Jade is asked if she wears the pants in her relationships and deftly speaks of compromise without being a pushover.
Back at the lake, everyone is frolicking on the beach. Kelsey hates it though–the lake is dirty and there are bugs, one of which has stung her in the thigh. She prefers lakes in Michigan. But they are staying overnight and must put up their own tents, in their bikinis, of course. Do farmers camp much? Or is this a test for when an angry Chris banishes his wife from the farmhouse for putting dinner on the table late one time too often?
Carly is asked by the blond sisterly trio about previous relationships. She bonds with them by speaking of one gone bad, and how her grandpa was nice to her grandma. So she likes older men. Everyone nods agreeably.
At the close of the interview session, everyone hugs goodbye and leaves their resume with the receptionist. Then the coveted date card arrives. Jade gets it. The sisters really liked that she sells organic make-up, since there’s no Sephora in Iowa. She has received an invitation to a royal ball–a complete Cinderella experience although fortunately without the cleaning of the house beforehand part.
At the campsite, Chris enthuses how he wants to go camping with the future Soules children. Presumably he wants to have seven sexy daughters. He goes off with Kaitlyn, who asks if he’s emotional. He says he’s a touchy-feely guy, especially with his tongue. She likes that–she’s the type who only needs to hear meaningful things, not get gifts. “Yeah, like, look at that,” Chris exclaims, pointing to some stock footage of a full moon through the trees. He’s continually impressed with her, he tells us, because she won’t cost much to maintain.
With Kelsey sitting on the rock beside him now, she whines that she was stung by a bee and wants to go home. That moment certainly replicates what it will be like taking his kids on a camping trip. Her giggles from afar stir the wrath of the others, who think she’s a big fake. They are all drinking and singing incoherently to underscore their own earthy realness.
Ashley S., as wacky as ever, now meets up with Chris, who seems perplexed. But he kisses her, because he would make out with a grizzly bear if it was wearing a gown from Nordstrom. The other women comment derogatorily about Ashley’s perceived mental challenges.
Ashley I. wants to make herself known to Chris. She applies lip balm in preparation. Nevertheless, he has no interest in her opinions or her Kabuki Theater-inspired eyebrows, and instead homes in on her mouth with little preamble.
Finally it’s rose presentation time around the campfire. The thorny bloom goes to Kaitlyn. The other women look disgusted that they didn’t think to strip off any clothing.
Later, a disappointed Ashley I., who bemoans never having had a boyfriend before, enters a sleeping Chris’s tent like a scene out of Arabian nights only with dippy white people. She tells him she is a very inexperienced nerd, and wants to make sure he got that vibe. The part where she used her tongue to manipulate his uvula may have thrown him off. Now are we to understand that they did it there in the tent with crew people and the other women and assorted woodland creatures right outside the flap?
Back at the house, the others tell the story of the three wise sisters who followed the star of season 19. Ashley I. is embittered and desolate that she was not chosen for the Cinderella date. After all, Cinderella was a virgin. Suddenly some weird-looking women show up to steal Jade away and get her ready for the ball. They are going to transform her into a modern-day Cinderella, although Prince Charming didn’t take her to a Fantasy Suite after he fit her with the glass slipper. All the other women are terribly jealous.
Jade chooses a beautiful blue ballgown and five-inch heels, then product places a pair of Neil Lane diamond earrings. Then they show her clips from a Cinderella movie that must be about to be released. Finally, she is presented to the others, looking more like a Real Housewife of the Enchanted Kingdom than Cinderella. Amid sighs, off she goes in the limo to meet her prince Chris.
In his tux but still with the hipster scruff, Chris points out that he has never been to a ball because he lives in Iowa, where they only have barn dances and perp walks. He hopes his sisters chose wisely tonight. Then Jade sweeps in, clad in flowing blue and sparkling jewels, to meet him.
“It meant a lot that they thought highly of me,” Jade says demurely of the sisters. It’s not really that much of an honor when you consider what they had to pick from. There does not seem to be an actual ball to attend, but the two sit and talk. Jade explains that she was once engaged when she was 21. Chris is glad she was able to open up to him about it, as if she were confessing to a conviction for shoplifting.
Meanwhile, Ashley I. is sinking further into despair. She really needs to get laid. Donning a gown She gnaws on an ear of corn and insists that she is the true princess. She’s actually more like a drama queen.
Jade tells Chris how it can be lonely in L.A. Chris admires her inner and outer beauty, especially since the inner beauty didn’t yet have a makeover by professional stylists. He gives her the rose, but he has one more surprise in store for her. I saw those heels, so I hope it’s a foot bath.
Jade is “the girl next door,” Chris sighs as he escorts her to a ballroom with an entire symphony orchestra playing. They mount a small platform and begin to dance a waltz. The movie plays on a big screen to effectively complete the romantic cross-promotion. Chris ends the dance with a lingering kiss, because he would suck face with the cello if it were closer to hand.
Then the clock strikes twelve, and Jade flees from his arms on cue, perhaps a bit too willingly. “After tonight, I’m not going to overlook Jade anymore,” Chris murmurs as she runs off. Although he might want to consider that Jade Soules sounds like a porno name.
Another group date is announced at the house. Then outside, the women find a bunch of wrapped boxes, all containing wedding dresses. They eagerly put them on, although Jillian feels wrong in hers, being an athletic type. She better change her attitude if she wants to have her wedding to Chris broadcast for an ABC special.
They all climb into a limo that takes them to something called a muckfest, which is redundant since they’re already participating in one. this is a mud and obstacle run that benefits M.S. research. Now Jillian is in her element. Whoever finishes the course first wins a one-on-one date tonight in San Francisco. Off they go, leaping into giant puddles, slogging through mud, pushing past giant balls. Jillian is in the lead quickly, then kisses her own biceps when she wins handily. The mud-splattered others plod home. People with M.S. are the only ones who win the day.
Jillian is glad to finally be alone with Chris, and likewise. He sees her as one of the top three–whaaa? When did that happen? They talk about their five-year plans, or rather Jillian does. Only she doesn’t have one. She tells him about her physical training while Chris gapes at her silently. But he says he likes having the pressure off him. The problem is, she’s a motormouth and this hick can’t keep up. He could use the opportunity to finally eat one of those dinners. But he’s concerned that she feels none of the romance of the locale, and being surrounded by dozens of producers and crew people.
Finally, she shuts her yap and he picks up the rose. After complimenting her energy and her beauty, he tells her there’s no chemistry and their goals are not aligned. She tries to blame nervousness, but he gently asserts that there’s the gut reaction that isn’t there. She tears up, sorry that she couldn’t be vulnerable, share her heart with him, and other phrases Dr. Phil recommends. He comforts her but walks away resolutely. He’s looking for a wife and has no time to waste. It’s coming time for another harvest and it’s the harvest of his heart.
The other women see this watershed moment as the proof that Chris is indeed here to find a wife, not just be on a TV show like all of them. Chris comes to tell them Jillian is gone, and they each rally to convince him to pick them. Megan blindfolds him and brings over some fruit with chocolate dip. She makes him guess what she’s feeding him. We now know that fruit is not what he wants in his mouth, though.
Ashley I is worrying that she failed to explain outright to Chris about her virginal status. So nothing seminal–ha, ha, ha!–actually happened in the tent. She questions him about what exactly he gleaned from their camping convo. Clearly not too quick on the uptake, perhaps because he spends most of his time with these women examining their back molars with his tongue, Chris is shocked to learn that Ashley is untouched by human hands.
“I totally respect it and I think it’s a good thing,” he says, as sincerely as your average telemarketer. Ashley doesn’t feel good about the situation. She feels “way too innocent” for the manwhore who is even now gnawing on someone else’s neck like a chicken wing.
Ashley next announces her virgin status to the other women. This shocks some of them, since she has been observed a number of times treating Chris’s soft palate like a Tootsie Roll pop.
Weather update! Six inches so far in Long Island, blizzard winds rising, heavy snow developing east to west. Midnight blizzard in NYC, up to 16 inches here by morning and freezing temperatures. Feh.
Cut to Britt chatting with a giant side braid that she is not seeing enough of Chris. She finally gets him alone, only to despair over hearing about what happened on his other dates–and she doesn’t mean roasting marshmallows. These women just do not know when to shut up. Chris looks thoughtful, or perhaps thoughtless. He assures Britt he did not give Kaitlyn a rose because she took off her bikini bottom. He gave her a hickey for that. But he doesn’t like his integrity being questioned by this Osmond poseur. Cowed, Britt insists she’s disgusted with his behavior only because she really likes him. Yes, she’d be a delightful person to marry.
Chris strides decisively back to the group and manfully asserts that he’s here to find a wife, it’s on all the Cafe Press mugs, and if anyone questions that, they can just go on home. Don’t mess with the farmer, he will thresh you.
The Rose Ceremony arrives and the women are daunted. Chris the Host earns $150,000 for asking some vague question about things changing this week while plucky guitar music plays. Chris the Farmer solemnly prepares to pass out the flowers. First is Whitney, then Carly, Megan, and Samantha. Mackenzie follows, then Kelsey, Becca, and Ashley I. after fretting throughout the scene. Finally, it’s Britt. Chris must like virgins after all.
Crazy Ashley S. is a goner, as is Juelia, the suicide widow. Chris gives her a special farewell. He doesn’t want to waste her time when her baby daughter is waiting back home. Sad music plays as she wanders off. She only wants someone to share her precious baby with, but there are no shows for that.
Ashley is cool with it all. Or she’s drunk. Yeah, she’s drunk.
Next week it looks like Kelsey has an accident of some kind and she cries while lying in a hallway somewhere. Let’s hope the ERs there are as nice as Michigan’s.