Photo: ABC

Last night, while shamelessly indulging in the latest episode of The Bachelor, I was surprised to see Badgley Mischka getting a major plug (ok fine, so I got an entire press release about it a few hours before the show aired). Even so, I found myself more than a bit perturbed by the nature with which it happened.

For those of you still pretending you weren’t watching right along with me (note: You can lie to us, but you can’t lie to Mr. Nielsen), here’s what happened: The Other Leslie, otherwise known as Leslie H., finally got chosen for a one-on-one date with Sean. Along with her date card, she got a pair of dangly diamond earrings which she promptly stashed under her pillow, maybe to avoid any Tierra-related sleepwalking incidents. The next morning, Bachelor Sean whisked her away to Rodeo Drive for what, according to Leslie, is “every girl’s dream”: An afternoon of shopping at a pricey boutique (Badgley) while her not-quite significant other sits. And waits. How romantic!

The date was obviously a throwback to that other great romance of the past half-century, Pretty Woman. Granted, I was probably 11 the last time I rendezvous’d with 1990 Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, and I can only hope the premise of the film went right over my little elementary school head because–ding ding ding!–it’s about a prostitute. Yes, men, every girl’s dream date involves being treated like a high class hooker.

Escorts aside, I personally don’t even particularly enjoy going shopping with my closest girlfriends (LYLAS!), let alone a guy with whom I’ve never been on a date before. How are you supposed to show a man you don’t abide by the ladies’ handbook of gender-specific stereotypes when he’s taking you out to try on clothes? To that extent, are we really supposed to believe that a self-described “outdoorsy guy” like Sean would intentionally place himself in a scenario where he’d be waiting for a woman to shop? I THINK NOT, Bachelor producers. I’ve worked retail. You can’t pull that cashmere wool blend bullshit over these eyes, baby.

But maybe–just maybe–that’s where I’ve been wrong all along, hmm? Maybe, instead of going for a glass of wine and splitting the dinner bill, I should instead suggest that a prospective boyfriend take me out for a rousing afternoon of shopping! Really, what sweet nothings don’t sound more riveting through the filter of a fitting room curtain?