The Bachelor loves a stretch. The powers that be—Chris Harrison, ABC, a stack of kids inside a trench coat—will shoehorn in just about anything to justify getting to a particular end. How many takes do you think they did to make sure that Basketball Madison caught that bouquet? How many oversized paper airplanes were made available to the new residents of the Bachelor mansion? This is the kind of show where the current Bach and one of the 976 women he’s building a connection with will just “randomly” “stumble” onto a “local landmark,” or will get a “surprise” “invitation” to attend a “local party.” That kind of thing. In that spirit, I’ll be diligently covering The Bachelor this season through the lens of all the food they don’t eat and, every so often, the food they do. So, what did Pilot Peter eat this week?
Did The Bachelor actually eat food this week?
I mean, presumably.
What didn’t The Bachelor eat this week?
Peter, it seems, was raised in a home in which two cultures intertwined. His mother, Barbara, has Cuban roots; his father, Peter Sr., is a pilot. Have they mentioned the pilot thing at all? Anyway, it’s a Cuban/pilot household, Barbara makes a delicious-looking meal that no one eats on camera, and then this totally unscripted dance party happens.
That is a lot of pelvic wiggling for your mother’s kitchen, Peter.
Peter’s first rose ceremony is preceded by the traditional parade of embarrassment that is the limo entrances. This year, everyone thought they were being super-duper original by making jokes about either aviation stuff of boning in a windmill (“Four times?!”) Still, a few people stood out. The letter from Grandma Rose was pretty cute, or will be until someone on Reddit inevitably discovers that Alayah doesn’t even have a grandma. There’s Lexi, who shows up in a very nice car. There’s the one-two punch of Katrina with the hairless pussy...cat (ellipses hers, not mine) and Victoria F., who told a joke about how her dry sense of humor is the only dry thing about her.
But hey, a girl named Jenna brought an “emotional support cow” named Ashley P.
No one ate Ashley P.
The vague idea of snacks
Computer, new angle.
After the first group date in which Kelley, a woman who ran into Peter in a hotel lobby and assumed that meant God was telling her to go on a reality show, won a race through an obstacle course by ignoring the obstacles, Peter and his paramours were treated to: Champagne, red wine, margaritas, gin and/or vodka tonics, two votive candles, a pile of some kind of fried rollup, a cheeseboard of doughnut holes, one sleeve of crackers, some graham crackers, and a couple whitish blobs I assume are cheese. No one ate anything.
We were treated to the sight of Hannah “Can I steal you a second?” Anne and her family not eating a large family meal, including a pitcher of lemonade, a pitcher of iced tea, and a basket of corn muffins that are definitely getting cold. We also watched Victoria P., whose humor is of indeterminate moistness, bake cookies with her family. No one so much as licked a spoon.
A whole “meal”
At long last, the traditional one-on-one date “meal.” After attending Barbara and Peter Sr.’s vow-renewal ceremony, Peter and Basketball Madison sat down together for a “meal” and a discussion about how weird it is that they’re both catching feelings so soon.
The menu included 23 drinking glasses, a large helping of garnish, and what is either rice, cottage cheese, or the remains of a tiny melted snowman.
They did not eat anything.
Did anyone eat anything at all?
Lots of wine, some cocktails, and face. Lots of face. Peter snacked on everybody’s face.
Who most deserves a plate full of macaroni and cheese or a huge piece of cake or something?
Hannah, you need a vacation.