The word of the day, ladies and Jason Biggs, is “story,” brought to you by the letter S. More specifically, sob story. Let us begin.
Week 5 starts with host Chris Harrison informing the 11 remaining ladies that they’ll be heading to Santa Fe, New Mexico, for this week’s one group date and two one-on-ones.
Megan is super pumped about traveling “out of the country” to visit the “beach resort place” that is New Mexico.
Meanwhile, Soules suspects Sante Fe will be the perfect place to fall in love, and he’s looking forward to “taking these relationships to the next level.” Heretofore, Soules suspects Sante Fe is a good place to get laid. Amirightoramiright?
Carly — who, ICYMI, is the sister of Zak from Desiree’s season — nabs the first one-on-one date, which she was not expecting.
Carly rushes out of the car and jumps into Soules’ arms, admiring how “Southwestern” the house they are visiting is. I love how all the girls say “Southwestern” like it’s just a style trend and not an actual region of the United States.
They head outside, where they find… Ashley S.! Ju-u-u-u-u-ust joking. But, seriously, how much fun would it have been if she had turned out to be the love guru? Now that’s a show I’d be interested in seeing. I mean, Mesa Verde… Santa Fe… think about it.
In reality, they find some shaman woman chilling by the pool, wrapped in a fabulous pashmina.
To kick off the date, the love guru starts burning some sage, which tells me she is clearly trying to exorci-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ise the demon of sexual repression.
She then makes them dress up like cult members and sit back-to-back with locked arms, like my middle school gym teacher used to make us do — sit back-to-back and work together to rise to a standing position, that is. Not wear cult robes.
Act like it’s the first time you’ve even touched a body, she says. Smell him, she says. Totally, do that. Because I always just run up and smell someone’s body on the first date. Dudes dig that.
Carly starts rubbing a chocolate-covered strawberry around his mouth in what may be the most unsexy display of fruit-involved sexual act ever, right up there with practicing putting condoms on bananas.
Which, let’s be real, could also still happen on this bizarro date.
Then it dawns on Soules that he didn’t hire a love guru; he hired a sex guru. Hmm, what gave it away? When she was giving you pointers on your doggie style technique?
When Carly prefaces them disrobing with a disclaimer that she hasn’t shed her clothes in front of a man for a long time, I thought for a split second she was going to reveal she’s still holding fast to her V-card, too. But virgins are great mythical creatures, like unicorns, and I’m not convinced three could even be in the same room at the same time.
Just before Carly gets Soules’ pants off, though, she stops and tells him she’s really uncomfortable. Thank God, it wasn’t just me. The secondhand embarrassment I’m currently experiencing has reached epidemic proportions.
Feeling generous/horny, the love guru says they can keep their pants on, but they have to shed an emotional mask. He says he doesn’t let himself fall in love; she’s afraid she isn’t worthy of love.
He gazes into her eyes. “You are worthy,” he says. OK, that was kind of sweet.
Carly then sits on his lap, where they breathe heavily all over each other as the googly-eyed love guru looks on unnervingly.
They are breathing like Darth Vader. Or like Kelsey when she got stung in the vadge by a bee last week.
Speaking of Kelsey, she is discussing the story of how her husband died with all the emotion you might have as you recount what you had for lunch the day before.
Hmm, this oddly feels like the start of an episode of Forensic Files or The First 48.
Back on the one-on-one, Carly tells a sad story about how her last serious boyfriend didn’t want to get physical and that she hasn’t felt beautiful in a long time. It’s sad. Mean boyfriends suck. Booooo on mean boyfriends. If you’re reading this, Carly’s ex, quit being a dillhole.
Interestingly, Carly also asks Soules if he feels like a woman might run away at the sight of his home, and he says it’s a possibility. I wonder if it’s full of deer heads and corn husks and the lingering aura of a sexually frustrated 33-year-old farmer in a town with two single women.
The group date card arrives and surprise! They’re going whitewater rafting. Between this, the zombie paintball and the camping, I’m starting to feel dangerously close to calling myself his #soulesmate. I’ll do my best to keep my composure.
Megan is predictably excited to be there — it’s like the best day ever — and she can’t wait to raft down the Rio Grande. I especially love how she pronounces “Grande” like she’s ordering a skinny vanilla latte from Starbucks.
She’s a little nervous, though, because “this river could be full of alligators, dead bodies, who know?” Sayeth the girl who still has no clue she is on U.S. soil.
A man from Deliverance shows up to tell them they might die if they stand up in the moving water, causing their limp bodies to bob like corks in the rapids. If that doesn’t turn a gal on, I don’t know what will.
Jade goes overboard but, on the plus side, we can all rest easy knowing the black box that formerly covered Jillian’s ass won’t be standing in the unemployment line — it appeared on Jade’s ass when she hit the water. Such a hard worker, that guy.
In amusingly dramatic fashion, Jade says she felt her life flash before her eyes. This makes more sense a minute later when she reveals she has a rare condition in which she gets hypothermia at higher temperatures than other people.
Then all of the other girls guzzle some haterade while Soules rubs Jade’s numb
Mackenzie is pissed that she doesn’t have selective hypothermia, too. I mean, damn, can’t we all be blessed with rare medical conditions? Some girls have all the luck.
Kelsey, meanwhile, is fine, y’all. She’s fine, OK?!
Later, just as Soules heads out to meet the ladies, OMG, Drunk Jordan intercepts him. Only she swears she isn’t Drunk Jordan anymore… just regular Jordan.
She drove all the way from Colorado, and I highly suspect she is still wearing an adult diaper (maximum absorbency) from her road trip.
What’s with all these chicks coming back? I think Chris Harrison should wear a long robe, carry a giant staff and block the path of any girl who tries to come back.
Settling in among the other girls, Jordan downs a vodka tonic, er, water with lime. Yeah, that’s what it was.
She sort-of-halfway apologizes to the other girls, but Kardashley is not having it, y’all. She wants the other girls to gang up on Jordan and bully her into leaving. She keeps making these crazy faces, and I wonder if she is having the same mini-stroke Soules had last week when Britt called him on his shit.
Whitney earns a few extra points in my book by being classy and insisting, “Chris doesn’t want a mean girl for a wife.” Preach, Whit, preach.
Soules steals Jade away for some one-on-one time, and she asks how he’s doing. “I’m OK, if you’re OK,” he tells her. “I’m OK, if you’re OK,” she tells him. Oh, gawd, these two would totally be the couple that takes 10 years to hang up the phone: “I love you more.” “No, I love you more.” “You hang up first.” “No, you hang up first!”
Back at the hotel, Carly and Britt talk about Britt’s impending one-on-one. Carly says Britt hasn’t showered in weeks.
I’m sorry, but if that’s what her hair looks like after not showering for weeks, sign me up for that dirty girl’s bathing habits.
When the date card reads, “The sky’s the limit,” Britt inexplicably starts freaking out — like Kardashley-style bawling. Apparently, she’s terrified of heights.
Back on the group date, Soules sends Jordan packing, and Whitney and Kardashley are still arguing about the ethics of mean girl-ness.
When Soules sits down with the women, Megan and Kardashley are crying because, well, Megan and Kardashley. Perhaps Megan is upset because someone informed her she wouldn’t actually be getting a stamp in her passport this week.
Soules has a rose to give, and he gives it to Whitney. Yay! Chalk one up for the nice girls.
Kaitlyn adorably calls out the drama girls: “Who’s pissed? Who’s pissed?” And I am officially giving up all hope for her and Soules because I want to see her be the next Bachelorette.
Kardashley is pissed, though, and she hysterically storms off in a dress so short I’m pretty sure I can see her uterus.
Lying in bed and venting to Mackenzie the Child Bride, Kardashley refers to Whitney as “that,” and accuses her of being fake. Pot, meet kettle.
In Mackenzie the Child Bride’s most redeeming moment thus far, she tells Kardashley, “I’ve never seen anything bad about Whitney. I just think that you don’t like her.” Oooh, burn! Do you want some french cries with that wha-a-a-mburger, Kardashley?
For his one-on-one date with Britt, Soules barges into the one hotel room shared by all 11 girls and wakes Britt, who is basically unconscious, up.
He remarks that she looks just as beautiful at 4:30 in the morning as she does all dolled up for the rose ceremony, which is probably because she is still dolled up for the rose ceremony. Homegirl doesn’t shower, remember?
On the way to their secret date, Britt imagines they willl be jumping off a bridge. Or a cliff. Because those are clearly things people do on dates.
Magically, Britt’s for-real-phobia of heights disappears entirely when she sees a hot air balloon. I mean, for a girl who was afraid of plummeting to her death five minutes ago, she seems pretty psyched to float tenuously above the earth in a wicker basket of impending doom.
Up in the air, she says it’s like seeing the world in a way she never has before. Then this happened:
OK, it didn’t. But it would have made this date way better.
Soules and Britt start getting hot and heavy in the hot air balloon, which must have been super fun for the balloon operator cowering in the opposite corner of the basket.
Back at the hotel, Kardashley and Megan tell the other girls that Britt says her main goal in life isn’t to get married and have kids right away.
Wha-a-a-a? The sacrilege. How could she not abandon all aspirations in a rush to harbor Prince Farmington’s offspring? That shady ho.
Back on the date, though, Britt tells Soules she wants, like, 100 kids. She has clearly never experienced childbirth.
When Britt makes it back to the hotel, she sugarcoats the experience for the girls, telling them about the hot air balloon ride and that she and Soules then “took a nap” in his room.
Kelsey disappears and can be seen headed through the hotel in search of Soules.
“I feel like Britt’s date today diminished the importance of my relationship with him. It’s possible they continued to delve into the wondrous land of physical affections,” she says. With the way this chick talks, I wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed up all night sewing scarlet “A’s” onto all of Britt’s clothing.
She gets to Soules’ room and recounts how her husband, Sanderson, died, and she begins to cry. Interesting, because she’s so unaffected and glib when she tells the girls the story.
Soules goes in for a hug, and you can see pit sweat the size of his home state — most likely because his body senses this looney bird is about to roofie his ass and imprison him in a basement or something.
To the camera, Kelsey gushes, “Isn’t my story amazing? It’s tragic, but it’s amazing. I love my story.” As my 3-year-old would say, this lady is a bag of nuts.
Awaiting the pre-rose-ceremony cocktail party, all of the girls are feeling extra nervous. Nikki, who, until this week I was halfway convinced was a mannequin producers kept moving around, is determined to get some one-on-one time.
Soules comes in with his cute little farmer chin quivering and reveals his very emotional convo with Kelsey and, just as quickly, exits.
Kelsey comically tries to let the other girls down easy. “He knows what he needs to do… it means I have to say goodbye to people, and saying goodbye is hard.”
Harrison comes back into the room and drops a bomb — there will be no cocktail party. Soules knows what he wants to do, so everyone needs to get ready for the rose ceremony.
In news that comes as a shock to no one, Kardashley is crying. “She has a story that is so much more traumatizing than mine… ugh!” And she reminds me of a little kid screaming through clenched teeth, “But, Mo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-om!”
Naturally, Mackenzie — who was jealous of Kardashley’s virginity — is also miffed that Kelsey has a sadder story than hers.
My God, where do they dig up these girls?!
Five seconds later, Kelsey is on the floor of the hallway, screaming and writhing around. A medic appears to ask if she is in pain, to which Kelsey responds remarkably clear for someone in the throes of crisis, “No, I think I’m just having a panic attack.”
Interestingly, on Harrison’s blog, he reveals Kelsey’s mic was off when she went into the bathroom and then she turned it back on shortly before collapsing in the hall. Say wha-a-at?
The medic says they might need to call 911. Really, though? That’s weird. When our kids fall on the floor screaming for attention, I usually just nudge their bodies out of the way or step over them.
“To Be Continued” flashes across the scene, and it makes me want to pull a Jordan and drive to Santa Fe to see what happens.
Happily, next week looks to be even effing crazier, with not one, not two, but at least three ladies having total meltdowns. Plus, we get to see them cart Kelsey off in a straitjacket.
Ha-ha, j/k. That’s just wishful thinking.
The show leaves us with a clip of Megan wearing a sombrero and, heaven help us all, doing the Macarena. “All I need now is to learn a New Mexico song — or a Mexican song, I guess,” she says, then proceeds to do what sounds like a Native American chant.