The Bachelor S24 E03: Lingery Finasco
Look, I’m not saying the collective IQ of this season’s contestants is 45, but I’m also not not saying the collective IQ of this season’s contestants is 45. Although, to be perfectly fair, 45 is probably aiming far too high.
To quote Hannah Ann, this episode was an utter finasco. What’s that, you ask? Is it something you put on a hamberder? Does it go in covfefe? Long story short, it’s shoebiz, baby.
This episode is comprised of equal parts staggering misogyny, staggering stupidity, and staggering bullshitting. I’m pretty sure the Producers were stumped for ideas, so they drew a pentagram on the floor, conjured up the first demon they could find, and invited it to join them in the writers’ room to craft this insulting, nonsensical farce of an episode.
Let’s dive in.
Line Dancing for Love
If you had to ask me what a typical day in the South is like, I’d imagine it’s hanging up your white hood from the night before, enjoying a nice glass of sweet tea on the front porch with your parents because you’re 30 and still live at home, gathering your girls together for a spot of line dancing, and probably getting eaten by an alligator if you’re a Florida Southerner, rather than a Deep South Southerner.
This seems to track somewhat for our Victoria P, who has the unfortunate lot in life to come from central Louisiana. VP, who I do like, despite myself, gets the episode’s 1:1 date and is whisked away—much to her glee—to enjoy a spot of line dancing with a cowboy boot-bedecked Peter in his hometown of…LA. The only way we could make Peter whiter at this point would be to roll him in white paint. Oh wait, I wrote that before I saw his line dancing—never mind!
Our pathetic twosome relive their first-night glory of “dancing away the scaries” by flailing wildly around at a country bar. I’m pretty sure all of that wild movement somehow also conjured that demon that’s now on the show’s writing staff, but that’s neither here nor there.
Yeehaw, motherfuckers (ABC)
Afterward, they meander over to an airplane hangar, because PETER IS A PILOT, IN CASE YOU FORGOT. In the super warm, comfortable, and cozy atmosphere of a ramshackle hangar, VP falls right back into her painful and problematic pattern of acting like Peter is the second coming of Christ for giving her the teeniest, tiniest iota of kindness. She opens up to him about more of her past, and how she grew up in foster homes, because her dad died when she was young, and her sister and mother fell quickly into the nightmare of drug addiction. Peter looks very concerned and nods a lot. When VP says, “Peter, I don’t know if this is the stars aligning for us or what,” he replies “I just asked god where my girl was, and then a shooting star went across the sky,” but then he’s also quick to point out that his fated star could be her or could be anyone else in the cast.
One of the biggest, most insidious problem with the Bachelorverse is that it forces women like Victoria P—women who have openly suffered major life trauma, and women who find the barest, barest minimum of kindness from men to be an earth-shattering experience—to open themselves up to more trauma in a Stockholm Syndrome-style experience that airs all her dirty laundry and gleefully opens her up to hell from people across the globe.
Peter pretends like he gives a fuck, but he does not. Sure, Peter seems fairly kind at his core, outside of being a stunted man-baby that lives at home and lights up at every opportunity to let the world know he has The Sex, but he doesn’t actually want someone with baggage. Like, real baggage.
Peter can deal with Hannah B’s “my life is so hard because I’m a beautiful pageant queen that tragically didn’t win Miss America, and I have terrible taste in men but can’t stop putting myself into the limelight because I live off attention” baggage, but he cannot deal with VP’s “I lost my father at a young age and then watched my mother and sister descend into the hells of drug addiction for all of my formative years” baggage.
Peter may be somewhat kind, but he’s also very simple and very selfish and very disinterested. I can see VP sticking around for a while because people have come to really love her already, but I cannot see her winning, because Peter’s winner needs to be as fluffy and empty as the clouds he soars through in the skies.
Give Me a Break
We then careen wildly back to the Mansion, where Alayah has also been conjured from the bowels of hell by a group of slavering Producers. She’s chugging an enormous glass of wine, wearing a captain’s hat, and loudly screaming about how everyone thinks she’s so sweet and meek and charming because she’s Pageant Queen no. 93748374 in this franchise, but that she’s actually an enormous bitch. No, seriously, this is legit what she’s screaming. While drunk. At about 10am.
The other women are, naturally, repulsed. Sydney is wildly waving an enormous red flag, and we know this is going to blow up spectacularly by the end of the episode.
Off in the garden, Hannah Ann and Kelsey are fighting over who’s the real bully. Hannah Ann is definitely a Regina George type, but I’m definitely on her team in this debacle. Kelsey is a massively unhinged bully, and needs to GTFO.
“I’m not a champagne stealer!” Hannah Ann insists, beginning to cry. “This is a finasco!”
Yes, kids, finasco. Pageant Queen no. 763348 thinks fiasco is pronounced finasco. FINASCO. Welcome to that solid Southern education!
F-I-N-A-S-C-O (ABC)
Speaking of finascos.
Let’s Put on a Porn
Up for the first group date of the episode are Kiarra Who Shoved Herself into a Suitcase, Sarah Whoever the Fuck That Is, Tammy the Package Handler, One-Night-Stand Kelley, Shiann the No Kiss Getter, Savannah the Groper, UnSouthern Belle Sydney, and and Drunk Demon Alayah.
“I love surprises,” reads the Date Card. “I hope you do, too.”
Oh goodie, is Hannah B coming back??
Alayah smirks and makes fun of Jasmine for not getting invited on the date. Jasmine wrinkles her nose and hopefully fumigates the couch after Alayah gets up, because girl is a stinking winery at this point.
After that little bit of entirely unnecessary drama and bitchiness, our ladies head off to bed with dreams of stunted man-baby pilots in their heads—but they don’t get the restful night they anticipated.
Since this season is 1) all about The Sex and 2) a magnificent ode to misogyny (see also: this entire franchise) we kick things off early the next morning with an overly aggressive—no, seriously, there’s like legitimate violence here—pillow attack from none other than our favorite other demon, Demi, and her two new friends, Champagne (an exceedingly unshowered Harley Quinn) and Killa (a roid-raging Heidi).
They burst into the women’s room and literally begin beating the fuck out of them with pillows. Feathers explode everywhere. Screams of pain ring out. I wonder just how many rights these women signed away in their contracts.
“Wake up bitches!” Demi screams into a fucking megaphone. “It’s Date Day! Meet me downstairs, let’s go!”
“HEY GUYS! I’M THE FUCKING WORST AGAIN!” (ABC)
Okay, so Demi redeemed herself in Paradise, but this little schtick is insulting and aggressive and dumb as fuck. And it’s not the only insulting and aggressive and dumb as fuck schtick that she’ll pull off today.
Turns out the date is—you guessed it!— being forced to change into lingerie, show up to a crowd of eager watchers in said lingerie, and then fucking pillow fight each other in said lingerie.
“Linger-y?!” exclaims a shocked Kiarra.
JESUS CHRIST, LADIES.
LINGER-Y?? DID SHE JUST SAY LINGER-Y BUT MEAN LINGERIE?? Between finasco and linger-y, I am fucking done. I AM FUCKING DONE.
“I’m a little nervous,” Kelley admits, as they’re bussed to a fucking saloon for the date. “Who wants to see their attorney dressed in lingerie on a reality show?”
Points for being able to properly pronounce lingerie, but you lose them all for pretending like you didn’t know this was exactly the type of shit that happens on The Bachelor. If you’re smart enough to know how to pronounce basic words, you’re smart enough to know you’re signing up for with this insanity.
Before anyone else can express their concerns over being forced to essentially act out a softcore porn, the corpse of Fred Willard—who’s again, inexplicably, a Group Date Judge—rings out over the crowd: LET’S GET READY TO SLUMBER!
“I sold my soul for THIS??” (ABC)
First up are Tammy and someone else. I couldn’t see who it was, because Tammy was busy being disqualified for throwing out several of The People’s Elbows. Next up are Hannah Ann and Savannah, and I think Hannah wins, but I don’t care. They’re followed by Alayah and Deandra, with Alayah unsurprisingly being a smirking, psychotic bitch the entire time. After that mess are Sarah and Shiann, and it’s pretty boring.
Well, not boring for Peter, at least, who’s busy drooling so much on the sidelines that I’m amazed he didn’t flood the place. How adorable is this! A pathetic hornball basically humping the air while ABC forces women into light pornography on national TV just to please him.
Honors go to Demi to pick two finalists to duke it out in a final death match round, and she of course picks Alayah the Royal Pain and Sidney Sid Vicious (this is what Demi and the ladies came up with, so don’t fucking blame me). The two beat each other to sad, linger-y-clad pulps. Alayah ultimately wins by vaguely cheating. Sydney kind of fat shames her by saying it’s “like an elephant sitting on a mouse.” I handed in my feminist card in shame.
As Sydney seethes, Alayah latches onto Peter and tries to eat his soul out of mouth.
Bruised, bleeding, and ruined for all eternity, our gaggle of date goers finally meander off for the cocktail soiree. They see a fire pit and freak out, as though it’s an actual god appearing right before them. A fire pit?? On The Bachelor?? What kind of magic is this??
Alayah of course steals Peter first, and they flirt a lot. Alayah’s voice ratchets up so high that, somewhere out there, Krystal “Mrs. Goose” Randone perked up and began howling.
Once Peter is able to extricate himself from Alayah, she rejoins the other women and immediately begins obnoxiously yammering on about how great she is and how terrible everyone else is. Sydney gets a little too worked up about it, but I also cannot blame her in the slightest. I hate Alayah so much that I would push her off that scrap of wood from the end of Titanic, even if it could safely hold 15 people.
Sydney claims Alayah is basically a lazy nobody who’s never worked a day in her life. Alayah is incensed. “I have three jobs! THREE JOBS!” She screams.
This is true! According to her Instagram, she’s a Traveler, an Iced Latte Addict, and a Romantic. This is very similar to my own LinkedIn profile!
See? Three whole jobs! (ABC)
Next up for some 1:1 time with Peter is Kelley. “I am SO out of my comfort zone,” she declares, before promptly making out with Peter on national TV.
“I don’t know what it is about Kelley,” Peter tells the cameras dreamily.
It’s because you two fucked in the Four Seasons, Peter.
Sydney gets some alone time with Peter next, and gives the first Someone’s (ahem, Alayah) Not Here for the Right Reasons of the Season. Drink!
“It’s such a fear of mine,” Peter says, throwing some legit shade at Jed and Luke P. “That I could fall for someone, and they could be so fake.”
Oh, HONEY.
Peter, reeling from the Alayah reveal, goes back to the group after and makes Sydney name names. It’s amazing. To her credit, after some gaping she’s able to set her jaw back in place and point out that Alayah is a massive bitch. I mean, the girl literally said it on camera, so Sydney’s really just acting like the video play-back at this point.
Alayah is INCENSED. I N C E N S E D, PEOPLE. She gapes more than Sydney does, because she is much dumber than Sydney, and she cannot think on the spot. Instead, she just raises her voice another few decibels and whines. In the background, every dog within a 5-mile radius begins screaming.
In a surprising moment of pure justice, Peter gives the Group Date Rose to Sydney after all of the insanity. Alayah’s eyes turn red and fire flickers in her irises. It’s hard out here, for a queen of hell.
Pool Sharks
Since poor Peter is all confused and scared, given that he wants to bone Alayah but vaguely doesn’t want to be humiliated (again) on national TV, he decides to mopingly forego the Cocktail Hour in favor of…what else? A pool party! Yay! More time for him to ogle the women in their teeniest of bikinis!
It’s so nice that this season has really dedicated itself to showcasing the women’s intelligence, ambition, drive, personalties, and successes. If I had to describe any of the women at random, it would be “uh I think she fought in her lingerie? If not, she definitely made out with Peter in a plane.” And those would be the only personality traits I could come up with.
So anyway, the Pool Party is fucking stupid and lame. Sydney and Alayah bitch about, and at, each other. Weirdly—and I mean literally, weirdly—we discover that Hannah Ann, Mykenna, and Alayah have somehow formed an unholy trinity. Mykenna is definitely Karen in this Mean Girls circle. Lexi joins in the Alayah bashing with the other group. Lexi also likes to join in on making out with her own sister, if Reddit is to be believed. Peter, also a big making out fan, prances around a lot in his lil’ shortly shorts and sucks face with like, half the cast.
“I will fucking stab you” (ABC)
“Like, I will never apologize for being a pageant girl,” Alayah steams, to absolutely no one. “I’m not, like, going to put out my light because someone else says so.”
VP then gets some 1:1 time with Peter, and spills some tea. Turns out she and Alayah know each other from the pageant circuit, but Alayah told her to lie to the Producers and claim they didn’t know each other, because then they wouldn’t be cast, or something bullshit. Girl, this is the show that built an entire season around Hannah B and Caelynn’s mystery pageant fallout. This is the show that put identical twin sisters on the same fucking season.
Peter acts like this is somehow the worst thing he’s ever heard. I’m here for it, however, because literally whatever it takes to get Alayah the fuck off this show, right?
Peter takes Alayah aside to drop this bombshell on her. Alayah panics for like, 30 seconds straight, because she literally cannot string together any words or thoughts to explain all of her lies and bullshit. She cries. Peter runs away to Zaddy Chris Harrison and then runs away. Literally. Zaddy comes out and say Peter went home, so the Pool Party is Effectively Over. The women all wonder if this D-list level fame is really worth it.
The Rose Ceremony
Already safe are Wet Vagina Victoria F, Anti-Alayah Sydney, and Too Pure for This Franchise Victoria P. Joining them are:
#ChampagneGate Kelsey
Hanna “The Finasco" Ann
Meth Eyes Natasha
Lexi Goes Fast With Her Sister
‘00s Club Queen Madi
Shiann the No Kiss Getter
One-Night-Stand Kelley
Linger-y Kiarra
Tammy the Package Handler
Savannah the Groper
Windmill Deandra
We then pause dramatically for Peter to panic and once again run off like a little bitch. He’s so torn! He has two roses left and wants to choose both Mykenna and Alayah! What can he do?? How does math work??
Peter cries some more to Zaddy, who then comes out and removes one of the roses. Okay? We’re then we’re stuck with 15-straight minutes of the camera careening wildly between Alayah and Mykenna, with Peter silently sobbing somewhere off-screen. He can’t choose between the two—since he doesn’t want to be humiliated on national TV and pick someone who’s there for all the wrong reasons, should he choose kind and sweet Mykenna who genuinely wants to be there, or self-proclaimed mega bitch Alayah who’s clearly only there to ensure she can hawk gummy vitamins on Instagram??
Who will get the final rose of the evening? Who will be blessedly released from this nightmare? Mykenna spends the entire time crying and having a meltdown over her looming fate, shockingly dark eyebrows really doing a ton of work here. Girl is sweet and all, but honey, see a fucking stylist, for god’s fucking sake.
Oscar worthy (ABC)
In a genuinely shocking moment, Peter gives the final rose to Mykenna, meaning we bid adieu to:
Antichrist Alayah
Jasmine the Insulted
Alexa the Vagina Waxer
Sarah Whoever the Fuck That Is
Goodnight, sweet princess, and goodnight, sweet princess of darkness.
BUT WAIT!
We’re then forced to endure a clip of the next episode, where a gloating, smirking, psychotic Alayah comes sashaying back to the Mansion to crash a group date, while a Peter voiceover cries about wondering if he’s made the wrong decision to send her home.
Peter, STOP THINKING WITH YOUR DICK.
Until next week!
