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?