Welcome back to Carly’s Into Bach and, for the first time, to Richmond VA: a lovely place to film a show, although there are many other places too!

We open with a montage of Becca drifting around her Richmond digs. Clearly, the producers were looking for a More Serious Becca this week, as she is gasp NOT WEARING ANY SEQUINS! I almost miss the comfort of the sequins when she removes her hot pink trench coat to reveal the most tragic black-and-white floral top I’ve ever seen. Every week, the stylist’s rage burns hotter.

As the boys arrive at their house, my darling Leo is absolutely rocking some cropped boyfriend jeans, a hot pink tee, a jean jacket, and Birks. Any other man would look ridiculous in ONE of those items; Leo looks amazing in all four. Why does he do this to me??? Chris drones on and on in the confessional about this being his “redemption week” after his massive display of childishness last week. Becca is clearly 100% over him, so I look forward to watching his ass become grass.

Chris and Lincoln, obviously prodded off-camera by weary production assistants, ramp up their “beef” (god, I am so old):

Chris: “I want to have a one-on-one this week.”
Lincoln: “You’ve already had a one-on-one, so the chances of you getting another are slim.”
Chris: “Do you have HISTORICAL DATA to back that up????”

My dude, this is The Bachelorette, not your senior thesis (“Nicole M. Smith Owes Me A Blowjob: An Exploration Of Crimes Committed”)

Lincoln then says something to Chris that I miss, and Chris snaps: “You just BODYSHAMED ME, dude! I am PROUD OF WHO I AM!!”

Every dude in the room:

While I am obviously anti-bodyshaming, I am also strongly anti-whatever-in-the-haunted-fuck is happening here. I check the clock — it is only 8:10pm. Dear God.

ONE ON ONE

Still in her Depression Florals, Becca sets out on her first one-on-one with Disney Jason. They wander around, Becca rattling off producer-fed Virginia Facts in a monotone, until they reach their first date activity: donut-making? How… fun. Even the corny jokes about each other being sweet (Get it?? Like donuts!?!) cannot save us from the reality that this “date” is more of an activity for babysitting an 8-year-old than deciding if you ever want to sit on some dude’s face.

Things take a sharp turn from pink frosting when our lovebirds proceed to… a Gothic-themed “unhappy” hour??? I truly adore the producers for bringing Becca and Jason, unquestionably the two most vanilla people to ever set foot on this earth, to an event full of goth weirdos. (I say that with ALL the love, because I’d fuck anyone at this bar before Jason, without hesitation.)

Lastly, Becca invites some of Jason’s friends to the bar to surprise him, which is nice. They gas him ALL the way up to Becca and she is loving it. Jason seems like an extremely decent dude; however, Becca keeps talking about the “chemistry” they have together and I’m just like

At dinner, they talk about Family Stuff (Jason’s grandma had Alzheimer’s; Becca’s dad passed away when she was 19). It’s a very sweet and genuine conversation and, of course, ends with a rose and some canoodling. My concern for the Bachelorette Budget doubles when Becca takes Jason upstairs after dinner and throws open the door to his “surprise”, which is just……… a balcony. Like, no fireworks? Not even some candles??? Damn! Cold.

GROUP DATE

Connor, Wills, Garrett, Chris, Blake, Lincoln, and Colton will attend a

*INSERT GROAN SO COLOSSAL IT SHAKES YOUR COMPUTER SCREEN*

“Beccalection,” in which they “campaign for Becca’s affections” in debate format. Please smite me from this earth.

Sometime in the lead-up to this certain tire fire, Chris calls Lincoln “asinine.” In unison, my boyfriend and I look up from our phones and say “…Asinine. Wow.” I am so happy I don’t have to go on this show, as I have already found a man who cooks, has a great butt, and will put up with my ass AT LEAST until our lease ends in September. #BLESSED

The debate is moderated by Chris Harrison, a rather convincing Abe Lincoln, and the saddest, tiredest looking George Washington I’ve ever seen. Someone get Georgy a Red Bull!!! Chris and Lincoln take this opportunity to snipe at each other like middle-schoolers, while the other men give diplomatic, carefully-researched answers to questions about reducing the United States’ ever-burgeoning deficit and tackling the complex issues surrounding public education.

KIDDING! Here is an actual debate question: “Colton, what would be your favorite date activity with Becca here in Virginia?”
Colton: “Going to the dog park, and then continuing to grow our connection.” Okie doke!

The after-party quickly goes off the rails, with Colton admonishing Lincoln/Chris for their bickering; Lincoln/Chris both claiming they were acting in self-defense; and Garrett moping that everyone else has put Becca in a bad mood RIGHT when he was ready to “open up to her” (finish your drink!)

Speaking of which, I’m pretty sure Connor is playing right along with the Unofficial Bachelorette Drinking Game, except instead of finishing his drink, he’s unbuttoning a button on his shirt for each Qualifying Event. The shirt is like, draping around his bellybutton by the time he makes it to confessional. Please put yr clothes back on, sir.

ONE ON ONE

LEOOOOOOOOOOO! YASSSSSS!

(Am I praying for this to go extremely badly so Leo will run into my arms and finally recognize and appreciate me as his true soulmate? Absolutely yes. Do I want him to be happy even if it’s with Becca or some other woman instead of me? No! I don’t! Next question!!)

Becca and Leo take a plane ride to their date, and Becca whines both to the camera and to an extremely chill Leo about how she’s “in her head” and “not her full self” due to the hateration/holleration in the dancery of last night. However, Leo—a grown man with appropriate maturity levels—rolls with it and tells her they should just hang out and try to have fun. They go oyster shucking and drink champagne on a boat. Becca looks a little bored/unhappy, but is maybe just cold? Or maybe that’s just her face? Regardless, she is 5000% too beige for Leo and it is painfully clear. COME TO MAMA, LEO! LEMME SHUCK YOUR OYSTERS! (Sorry.)

Leo says a lot of cute stuff on the boat, which I mostly don’t hear because I’m leering at him with an active drool strand connecting my face to the couch. At dinner, he talks about disappointing his father by not continuing with his potential baseball career. While I’m sad that such a lovely and kind man feels this way about himself, I am more pressingly transfixed by the Glitzy Fabric Demon threatening to devour Becca’s very soul:

G U R L   W H A T ?

This dress has everything: silver zebra print; a mesh titty panel; long sleeves that look both hot AND itchy; and, of course, ENOUGH SEQUINS TO MAKE YA SLAP YA MAMA!!!! This is “Wet Seal prom dress sale” meets “Night at the Roxbury”. Soon, I’m going to have one of those dreams where a monster is chasing you and you can’t wake up, except the monster is Becca’s stylist, and she corners me against a 12^th story window cackling and holding this dress, and she’s going to make me wear it, so I break the window with my elbow and leap to my death, only waking up right before I hit the ground, drenched in a cold sweat and sobbing.

Anyway, Leo gets the rose and they get the Bachelorette’s standard make-out-at-a-concert after-date.

Later that night, as was inevitable, Chris goes to Becca’s room to try and win her back, pages of note-scribbled napkin shoved into his back pocket. Instead, Becca— sounding the most Minnesotan I’ve ever heard her, or maybe any person— GIVES HIM THE BOOT. There are a lot of “red flegs” and she doesn’t want to “dreg him through an entire rose ceremony.” Chris, a genius, says: “What are you trying to say?”

My dude! What do you think she’s trying to say!

Becca: “Can I walk you oot?” [finish your drink!]
Chris: “No, it’s fine.”
Becca: “Well, I’m going to walk you oot, because you deserve thet.”
Chris (angry; staring at ground; walking away from Becca toward door): “It’s FINE. We can just say goodbye here.”
Becca: “Okay… I wish you the best…”
Chris (on the way out to the limo): “This is bullshit.”

We at Carly’s Into That would like to welcome Chris back to Orlando, where we are sure he’s already returned to a thrilling existence of bumping shitty coke, luring 21-year-old women into hastily-constructed “VIP” sections with the tantalizing promise of lukewarm Grey Goose bottle service, and shouting “SUNDAY FUNDAYYYYY!” all day on Wall Street with a bunch of dudes in fraternity-logo tank tops.

COCKTAIL PARTY

Just kidding. There will BE no cocktail party this week (finish your drink!!) because Becca Already Knows Whomst Gon’ Home!

RIP

Connor, picture-frame-tosser and chest-barer; Lincoln, flat-earther haunted by rumors of upsetting bathroom habits. I’m fine with both of these.

Next week we visit… The Bahamas, a lovely place to which I cruised for 4 days during Sprang Break for a grand total of $283. Thank you for reading, and please remember to donate to Chris Harrison’s GoFundMe– the remaining suitors are still stranded at Senor Frogs, and are currently battling over the last stale jalapeno popper.