We're still reeling this morning after the most shocking Bachelor finale ever, stunned that Brad chose to continue his Journey with Emily when we went all in on Chantal. You can catch us with our walls down on the post-rose, Monday night podcast here:
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Just when we were at our most vulnerable, Jimmy Kimmel revealed the identity of the next Bachelorette.
If misjudging the true nature of Brad's heart wasn't enough for us to endure, now we need to listen to Ashley talk to a therapist about reconciling her career ambitions with letting down her walls as she twirls her new hair extensions. Honestly, for GTOG, this is adding insult to injury. Chantal O. was clearly the right choice here. We're still processing all of this, and we thank you for your bearing with us during this difficult time. We just feel so exposed right now. We'll be rolling out additional thoughts today as we slowly reconstruct our walls.
[NOTE TO U.S.Americans: Employment obligations and the like-such-as prevented us from doing as much writing on the Finale as we would have liked. However, employment has also enabled us to afford the computers with which we record our podcasts that you should definitely listen to. Thanks, everyone.]
Finesse, 3:15 PM - I'll answer for you. No, it won't be a problem, because Brad has already worked this out in his head by adding a twist to his bi-hourly balcony gazing. Between Brad's emotional confessional to a middle-aged male stranger named Neal and the final rose ceremony, Brad stood on his balcony staring in the direction of Antarctica, but instead of maintaining his stoicism, he actually did a few 180 degree turns. He gazed, turned his back to the water, peered inside for several seconds, turned, and re-locked in his gaze. We should have known right then that he was all business.
Finesse, 3:10 PM - The fans are demanding more from us, Artistry. In that light, I've thought even more about Brad's decision to ask Mrs. Ricky Bobby to, "please give me your forever" and now I'm swinging back into the confounded camp. Two points working against them:
- Mrs. RB is 14-years Brad's junior. In other words, when he was 14, she was 0. When he was 30, she was a sophomore in high school. When he was 34, she couldn't get into his bars in Austin. Sure, one could argue that this won't matter when he is 92 and she is 78, but I have a funny feeling we will not be crossing that bridge.
- Based on the "overnights," it is unclear what degree of intimacy has been explored between Brad and Mrs. RB. You'll recall Mrs. RB's hesitation about spending the night with Brad, but let's go back even further to Brad and Mrs. RB's magical evening smothered in blankets in a barn where Mrs. RB insinuated that she had only been intimate with one man in her life. I'm not judging her, but Brad certainly did, as he recoiled in horror/delight, "GREAT!" Is that going to be a problem for them?
|Approximately 6,600 years of knowledge|
Artistry, 10:25 AM - I'm afraid Emily and Brad are in for a bumpy roller coaster ride of emotion and that Brad should have gone with the immediate gratification Chantal was best equipped to provide. No reason to drag Little Rickee into this. Looking ahead, we're also deprived of watching Chantal as the Bachelorette. The reason she would have been the best choice is summed up in the sequence where she upped the ante by insisting she would marry Brad immediately, on the spot. Chad's brother observed, "This really screams her feelings for Brad." It also screams insanity.
Finesse, 10:12 AM - Ali and Roberto have no more fervent supporters than us. The buzz this morning is that Brad and Mrs. Ricky Bobby are doomed as a couple, as the nation learned last night that they have already broken up once and that Brad has a bad temper. Stunner, I know. But as I've thought more about this, the more I'm thinking Brad and Mrs. RB have a shot at happiness. And using their vernacular, let's climb the Adverbial Stairs to see just how happy they can be together.
|Extremely hugely important aspect of their relationship|
Artistry, 9:45 AM - I just turned on the lights. One step at a time.