Monday, July 19, 2010

// //

How I Decided I Couldn't Be On The Bachelor


So I have a girl roommate that watches "The Bachelorette" incessantly. It's really not my cup of tea and doesn't fit my standard for dating television which by these titles--Flavor Of Love, I Love New York, For The Love Of Ray J, Rock Of Love, and Those Two Washed Up WRs Looking For Love--is strictly VH1. Because I am stricken with laziness from the hours of 8-11pm, I have to watch it if I'm on the couch. Let me tell ya, I would not be cut out for that stuff.

I am not what a woman would call "romantic" (emphasis on the quotes there, actually I better bold them) or "romantic." I've become all sorts of wack in terms of dateability over the years. When I first got to school I was a dating machine. You best believe the Friday night dinner-movie play was still in full effect with a young Dub Jeezy terrorizing the scene. Years went by, I learned the way of the party hook-up, and the rest is history. All opportunities for relationships died and will probably be dead for the foreseeable future. Here's where the point of this post comes in..how would I do on the Bachelor?

First off, my lifestyle is where the problem lies. We're going to go out to some lavish function where myself and my V-neck tee will not be welcome. Then instead of Cascada and Major Lazer blaring on repeat, I'll probably be hearing a symphony orchestra? She'll be sipping red wine while I am struggling at the bar trying to understand why they don't serve Bud Lights. Even outside of the night scene, everything involves water--ALL THE TIME. Check a random Bachelor scene. They're either on a boat or a beach. Like clockwork. Dub J doesn't mess around with water. Plus the production crew does not have the money and time to be wasting on me when I catch the inevitable -itis and pass out beachside like a sexy motherfucking whale. Don't even get me started on how early these people wake up. I'd be forced to casually jst slip into the elimination room, toss my rose away, and leave without a trace, saving myself the embarrassment.

It'd just wouldn't work out. Plus, I'm black (if you didn't figure that out by the lack of swimming/-itis references, step your mild-racism up) so you know I don't have a chance.

0 Reactions to this post

Add Comment

Post a Comment