The swelling is immediate and the pain is unbearable, but I must keep up appearances for my public: “I’m not crying! I’m a brave soldier!” I limp back inside on my perilous heels in search of ice and I’m devastated when the doctor Bachelor is of no assistance. Is he a quack, I wonder? Or just consumed by all of the cameras and girls revealing nipples through their dresses? [Note: I’m so candid about my ankle, which swells to resemble an eggplant, that during the several months leading up to the show’s airing I can think of nothing but how the editors will find a way to use my words out of context. Fortunately, they left my fall—and my squabble with Stork over the merits of fame and fried chicken—on the cutting room floor.]
Later, the ladies assemble for the climactic elimination ceremony—the one featuring the famed “rotten egg” debacle. We gather around a pedestal bearing precious few roses (symbols for romantic potential and a guaranteed appearance on next week’s episode) for the Bachelor to distribute.
Thus commences the largest contestant exodus in the show’s history. Thirteen of the twenty-five women will be dismissed over the course of two or more hours, and I can’t bear all this standing around: I’m now swaying in my stilettos on the weight of my one good ankle. Stork sighs as he makes eye contact with me then offers the final flower of the evening to the woman in ringlets next to me.
Cue the Prozac commercial.
[Note: Allow me to digress once more to mention that Dr. Phil has since hired Stork as a correspondent, which disproves my quack theory and lends credence to the nipple theory. My friends joke that I should call in for some advice about methods for healing a broken heart and a ruptured ankle.]
Needless to say, this whole experiment in romantic roulette did force me to confront the question, Is the slight possibility of finding love worth the risk of looking like a fool?
The answer is a resounding oui.
Was it worth ruining a new pair of shoes? I’m not so convinced.
(Ed’s note: You can find current badboy Brit Bachelor, Monday 9:30 pm on ABC. You can find Stephanie, Shoetube is sure, at home at that time, eyes glued to the screen. Don’t call, don’t text. Wait til after.)
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