Where oh Where is my Golden Bachelor?
Okay, I couldn’t resist. Being a single woman of my stately age, I had to check out The Golden Bachelor. Truthfully, I really wanted to like it. I wanted to feel a little hope, experience some vicarious romance, but my goodness. And let me just say, I’m sorry to those of you who really like the show; I hope I don’t offend you although I know I will. And even though I don’t like the show, I will probably watch the whole thing because it’s a trainwreck and I just can’t look away.
When I saw the promos, I thought, wow, he’s rather nice looking for a man his age, very Harrison Ford-ish. Maybe there is hope for me after all (as if I’m a Goddess, lol). But when I actually began watching the show, he wasn’t like Indiana Jones at all, and I don’t know if this is because of the producers and good or bad editing, or if Gerry (that’s Mr. Golden’s name) is just a great actor, but one minute he’s sobbing over how he took his wife to the hospital 6 years ago and 9 days later she was dead, and the next minute he’s practically drooling as the women arrive and greet him in many embarrassing ways. One woman, and I think she was the first, was very va-va-voom, but Gerry, were you not just crying over your deceased wife who you said could never be replaced?
I have to admit in the past, I have watched other seasons. Not many, but enough to know that it doesn’t matter what age you are, you’re still going to act like a jerk when you want to win the man. The older you get, you might be a tad more of a dignified jerk, but then again, I only saw two episodes so that remains to be seen.
I was a little upset at how many of the women had work done, face, boobs, whatever. I was also a little upset at how no matter what you do, you’re still going to look old. Cases in point, Cher, Dolly Parton, and Joan Rivers when she was alive. Are they really fooling anyone? Even though the wrinkles and sagging skin may have been cut out and lifted, there’s a look they all have that’s unmistakable and, in my opinion, it’s one step away from looking embalmed.
Eek, not a good side of me I’m showing, is it?
I just find it all so degrading. Pick me! Pick me! It’s as if you’re a steak at Publix and you’re being examined and poked and prodded (in the case of these women, kissed and hugged and sort of felt up, and I think there will probably be sex down the road because of previous shows with the young’uns). But come on ladies, we’re better than this. They all put on their glittery, sexy clothes and make themselves up to the max and then everyone tries to make believe that personality is actually going to help Gerry decide who he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Well, that’s going to be after he has sex with about 8 of them and has weeded them out because they don’t meet his physical requirements and/or desires. I mean do you want to be the last woman standing, getting the guy who just had sex with all these women and then you’re supposed to feel honored that he chose you? Really? Will you take this rose? I will, just so I can shove it up your ass! Oh my gosh, okay. I need therapy, it’s no secret.
In my younger days, I rarely went to bars and clubs for this very reason. I cannot compete physically with other women, nor did I ever want to. It was demeaning and when you got down to it, I never wanted the guys who were looking for women in those places anyway.
Unless my golden bachelor likes Zumba or has moved to my community and finds me at the pool, I think I’ll be spending my golden bachelorette days alone. Oh wait, I’m not alone, remember? There’s always Me, Myself, and I.
For those readers who know me, I’m sure you could hear my voice ranting through this blog and know I held back writing obscenities along the way. 😊
Thanks for reading!