I’m not embarrassed to tell you that “The Bachelor” on one of my very favorite television shows. It’s the romance writer in me, wanting a happy ending no matter how unrealistic and preposterous.  I watched the first seasons sequestered in my bedroom so as not to be disturbed or ridiculed.  My French Friend Janou would call and we would discuss every aspect of “who would he choose and why” during the commercials.

Then I discovered internet forums, with sleuthing and spoilers and recaps. I could read all about the behind-the-scenes editing, the producers’ tricks, the machinations of the contestants, who was in it for fame and who wanted to pack up her panties and go home.

I begged Banjo Man to watch it, but for years he refused. He eventually felt sorry for me and joined me in the living room. I told him that he could make any remarks he wanted, he could criticize and joke and gape and moan and swear and watch in wonder as beautiful and semi-beautiful women and handsome and semi-handsome men made fools of themselves in front of television cameras. Comments and observations were required in order to enhance the sheer craziness of the show.

Banjo Man was hooked, as he never runs out of things to say.  Plus, he is a very romantic guy who believes in happy endings, too.  Soon we were scheduling our lives around Monday nights. The long-awaited (or dreaded) Final Rose Ceremony shows turned into food-munching events that rivalled the Super Bowl.

Monday night was the beginning of Ben’s season.  Ben was the final rejected bachelor last season.  Everyone fell in love with this guy.  He seemed funny and shy and normal, which a lot of Bachelor contestants are not.

Banjo Man and I settled in on the new couch, in front of the big TV, with bowls of giant salads and big glasses of water (we’re on our Healthy Eating Program right now).  I had a notebook and pen so I could keep track of who got what amount of camera time, who had “sparks” with our hero and which ones were obviously going to be kept around by the producers in order to provide massive amounts of drama.

Poor Ben.  This season’s crop of women included a drunk blogger (Jenna), an epidimiologist (Emily) who used breath spray before a kiss, a shy blonde (Brittney) who brought her grandmother along, a self-involved model (Courtney) and Lyndzie, who rode in on a horse.  Sidesaddle.  In a black ball gown.

She made it look easy.

Oh, and don’t forget Monica, who spent the evening trying to make out with Blakeley and being bleeped for her foul language.

I’ll go out on a limb and pick my final 6:

Kacie, from Tennessee, brunette and perky and “ready for love”
Elyse, gorgeous personal trainer
Emily, of the breath spray and sanitizing hand gel
Jamie, the nurse from NY with the rough childhood and custody of her siblings
Nicki, from Texas, divorced and bubbly and a bit young, but so cute
Lyndzie, the Guinivere imitator

And Courtney, the “I’m a model but I’m open to love” beauty:  I think she’ll be in the final four or six,  only because she was probably hired to be on the show and stir up trouble.  I don’t think this gal wants to end up working in the vineyard with winemaker Ben.  He may catch on early, but I doubt it.  In the previews he was shown skinny-dipping with her.  That’s a Bachelor First, in case you’re wondering.

Bare Ass Ben raised a lot of eyebrows with that move.

I can’t wait for next week.