Does belonging to Bachelor Nation make you a democratic socialist? It definitely makes you a dolt supremacist.
Anyway, here’s the non-committal news from Chris Harrison, who told Good Morning America that Hannah “feels really good about all the decisions she’s made,” and she’s happy. That could mean she chose anyone other than Luke, perhaps the FedEx guy or Juan Pablo, or that she realized she’s a demisexual and should stay single and just enjoy herself. In any event, Hannah will announce that she has finally gotten clarity, although that may just mean she has a new prescription for contact lenses.
Chris also let the waxed-chested cat out of the bag with this comment about Peter: “If he’s not the one, I do hope that Peter learned from that, and is willing to come back and take that leap and take that risk.” It sounds like the ink is not yet dry on the contract for the boyish pilot to be next season’s Bachelor.
Tonight, however, nothing is sure except that the name Epstein has been ruined for Welcome Back, Kotter reruns. Hannah will review her performance evaluations of Jed, Luke, Peter, and Tyler, and decide who earns some Fantasy Suite nookie. Word is that three will be retained, like a pair of efficient file clerks at an office supply company.
Mark your calendar for Monday, July 29th, when the highly anticipated bickering and recriminations of departed contestants are aired like Pig Pen’s laundry on Men Tell All. Count on three things to happen after that broadcast: It’ll be 120 degrees in Arizona, Luke P. will be trending, and Ivanka Trump will appear in public wearing a dress with oversized bows on the sleeves.
We’re off to Crete with the gang, where there’s spanikopita, baklava, and Luke’s hysteria. Hannah finds the location so beautiful and romantic, not to mention filled with Greek people. She further admits it’s been a long time since she’s had a roll in the hay, but the Fantasy Suite is not about sex. It’s about the mini-bar and free HBO.
She meets up with Peter first. They’re going on a boat ride, which this show would find a way to do if they were shooting in the Sahara. Celebrating their special connection, Peter speculates on what a fun life they would have together, comparing dimple depth and buying a house with an open floor plan for entertaining. He feels that for Hannah, he has torn down every wall he had up, which was easy because he’s basically a cubicle. They make out under the stiff, long mast. Afterwards, the sail smokes a cigarette.
That night, as Greek music plays and someone somewhere is making yogurt, they go to their evening date. Peter is anxious to convince Hannah of his feelings. He rhapsodizes about how their relationship has progressed solidly every week, like a well-baby visit to the pediatrician. Their hometown visit went smoothly, too. Hannah nods and smiles agreeably. She looks like I do when my boyfriend discusses auto repair.
Peter never felt like this before, except maybe when the Patriots won the Super Bowl for the 11th time. They kiss demurely. Hannah is glad to hear his impassioned pronouncements of love. They agree they both need more time together, not to mention sheets with a higher thread count, and she hands over the key card.
The suite is inside an ancient stone windmill, which looks like it would be clammy with poor WiFi reception. Also, they may find a lot of dead eagles scattered around the next day.
In the morning, Hannah says spending the night with Peter was “really nice,” while he claims it was the best time of his life. “We are one. . . I feel really secure,” he asserts. Somewhere, Reality Steve laughs and laughs.
Moving right along, it’s time for Tyler’s date. Hannah remarks on their powerful physical chemistry, belying the trope that contractors never finish a job on schedule. They strip down to get massages side by side. Hannah is impressed that this rugged specimen of manhood wants to be with her, a mere pageant queen from Alabama with stenciled brows and sun damage on her back. He starts rubbing oil on her naked flesh before flopping onto her prone body like she’s a sofa and the game is on.
Hannah loves this part of their relationship, but is uncertain about relying on insatiable lust as the foundation of a shared life. Why not? It worked for all of Elizabeth Taylor’s marriages.
Night falls, and Tyler greets Hannah in his stupid mauve jacket. He feels the Fantasy Suite is an amazing opportunity to get to know her better, and not just in the carnal way. “Everything we’ve done together has been so easy,” says Tyler of their dating history. According to Luke, Hannah is also easy.
But Hannah is concerned about their relationship. What more is there to recommend it than the exchange of bodily fluids and an occasional item of edible underwear? That’s how I feel about Little Debbie cakes that don’t have creme filling. She therefore determines a Fantasy Suite boffing would not advance their relationship in the way she needs right now. Tyler accepts this, insisting he will treasure their time together even if they just build a blanket fort and eat all the Bugles.
Hannah is pleased with this response, and they wake up on yet another boat. I hope the seas were calm last night. “We relaxed, and just talked and talked,” Tyler reports about their night on the Fantasy Watercraft. Mideast peace initiatives or Eastlake furniture design likely were not addressed, but I’m sure the conversation was substantive.
Next day, Hannah meets up with Jed. Last time he saw her, he felt let down and angry that Luke was not denied a rose. But he wants to brush that worry aside, and concentrate on Hannah, ideally using his hands.
They will take in the culture of a little Greek town, where kindly, jovial locals invite them to a family gathering to dance, eat, and listen to some live music not played by former third-place winners of The Voice. “You look fully in love,” one man tells them, as if he owns the Honda dealership where they have their eye on a 2020 CR-V. But Hannah explains to this bunch of strangers that she is not ready to make a decision about which muscular halfwit she wants to marry.
Finally, Jed brings up his concerns. He needs clarity about Luke, when most people would just want a restraining order. Hannah is distressed. She wants to be honest, but fears the truth will hurt Jed.
She tells him that Luke is there for her, and there is a connection between them as strong as those plastic things that keep pairs of socks together at the store. Jed asks why she is holding onto something so uncertain. I said the same thing when my broker refused to sell some under-performing tech stocks.
When evening comes, Hannah reflects on Jed’s concerns. She wants to assure him that her feelings for Luke do not affect how she feels about Jed, and also apparently how she feels about all the data identifying personality disorders. While Jed is glad to get the air cleared, Luke’s presence weighs on him because he’s fallen in love with Hannah. It’s like how my dog gets upset when I pet the Yorkie down the hall.
Inexplicably taken aback, Hannah asks Jed to trust her. But he is adamant that her continually making out with a preening, sanctimonious jerk is not something he can overlook. For her part, Hannah is tired of all this jealousy crap when she’s trying to date four guys at the same time in peace. “I do not want to do this anymore,” she rages, adding “aaarrrhrrhh” for emphasis.
Jed is now worried that this contretemps will affect their relationship, or at least how the writers manipulate his character’s arc. “This comes from a place of love for me,” he tells Hannah. She gets it, but insists she has to be the one to figure it out. He must trust that she can identify Luke in a line-up if necessary.
Ultimately, she appreciates this expression of his love for her. He gets the key card, and they choose to forego their individual keys. Is that what the kids are calling it these days? They get a normal hotel room, instead of a windmill or boat or the backseat of his dad’s Buick.
Next morning, Jed and Hannah awake, probably for the seventh take, wrapped in each other’s arms. Jed is more sure than he’s ever been, and so is she. They probably used that K-Y Warming Jelly. Jed was thrilled to have Hannah alone, without cameras or mics or Luke lurking at the window.
Cue the beginning of the Luke drama. He knows he’s the one, he declares with evil laughter before dashing off to meet Hannah. They’re taking a helicopter to Santorini. As they exclaim as the ocean’s beauty, Hannah tells the camera she thinks the relationship is “heading upward,” and is unlike anything she’s experienced with any other mental patient. Also, he’s the best kisser! Hannah feels they are completely connected in every way.
She tells Luke they are ready to start a new chapter in their lives. He is ecstatic, announcing that she’s his future wife. To hell with the Mediterranean Sea and the avgolemono soup. He’s ready to propose right now.
Night falls as Hannah heads to their evening date. She was really impressed with their romantic date today, and how convinced Luke is that he loves her and and is committed to chaining her to a basement wall.
Now Luke wants to discuss sex. Bachelor Nation’s ears perk up like a cat’s hearing the tuna can being opened. “It’s an incredible thing, and a beautiful thing, within the confines of marriage,” he lectures her about acts of intimacy that may result in a baby someone names “Jaxon.”
Although he knows Hannah’s not a virgin, Luke continues, he’s been saving himself for marriage, at least for the last few months. Therefore, she should not be boffing the other guys on the show, bringing forth children with an epidural, or adorning herself with gold-tone ornaments.
Hannah’s face grows as dark and stormy as the Greek skies. She does not agree with his Footloose dad mindset. He does not have the right to judge her, she tells him. If she has had sex with all those men, he replies, he wants to know about it, and is willing to forgive her for the transgression. Maybe he just wants to know what her O face looks like.
“I can understand a slip-up,” Luke continues, like a Quaker trying to bring a prostitute to Jesus. “But if it was with all of them. . . .” Did he time-travel from a 19th-century monastery? That would explain the Amish beard. Also, would using a Rotating Rabbit be acceptable ? Maybe if she only did it on Easter?
Hannah proceeds to tear him new stigmata. He tries to assure her he still wants her, even if she mistakenly gave into her abominable lust with a country singer, pilot or contractor. Hannah tells him he isn’t eligible to throw the first stone, especially when he gave her such a difficult time this season. Luke stares at her disapprovingly.
“I have finally found clarity about you, and I do not want you to be my husband,” she declares firmly. Clueless, he still wants to drone on about her sins of the flesh. The wind howls around them as she rises and directs him to exit. He refuses, starting to say, “I feel you owe me at least—.” Hannah cuts him off like a mohel at a bris for a really obnoxious baby. She is acrimonious that he would believe she owes him anything.
“I did have sex,” she informs him bluntly, “And Jesus still loves me.” As do the sponsors. A chastened Luke finally gets into the limo, most likely not the wiser. Hannah gives him the finger as the car pulls away. About time she came to her senses.
Indeed, pre-caps show that Luke crashes the next Rose Ceremony in an effort to convince Hannah that she’d enjoy being chattel. He better watch his back. NOW just launched a task force to address his existence.
