You’re All I Overthink About

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The Biorhythm Method

History will erase the fact that it did almost go horribly wrong for Trista and Charlie. We're out on a boat now, Trista wrapped in sweatshirt and sitting in Charlie's lap. He notes, "I feel like you're a hard one to read sometimes." Just sound it out, Charlie. Sound it out. Don't hesitate to use your context cues. You'll get this reading thing down in no time. Here. Try another SRA. She responds self-seriously, "People tell me that." His hair blows even more psychotically ("It's German! It means, 'The Trista, The'") as he gaffes, "I almost feel like I'm more distant now than I did when I came here." Vamp vamp vamp. What he means is, "I'm not as sure you're as comfortable around me." She assures him, "I totally am," as he digs for what her thoughts are on the other guys, which she declines to mention. "I mean, if I'm thinking too much into it, just tell me," he says. She tells him he is, and tells him to "stop analyzing all the time." They are the only people on the planet defining themselves as "too smart for their own good," wouldn't you say?

Dinner. Again. Snore. Tonight, we're eating in a tent by the water, Trista describing Charlie as "somebody who can light me up like a Christmas tree." Ew. And "somebody I can definitely see spending the rest of my life with." Talk turns to what will happen if Charlie is "the last man standing," Trista asking, "Do you see no ring? Do you see a ring? Do you just see a commitment?" Charlie tells her, "I would make that commitment to you, to be exclusive with you, and to just grow together and grow the relationship." So, no ring. Despite that, Trista's voice-over tells us, "I think we're on the same page." The page with Spot where he's running, Spot, run? You guys keep at it. You'll have this reading thing down in no time flat.

Purse. Card. Reading. "Hello, Trista and Charlie. Hope you're enjoying your stay in Cabo San Lucas. If you decide to forgo your individual rooms, you can use this key to stay as a couple in our Fantasy Suite." Charlie hems that "it's going to have to be on what your comfort level is," and Trista tells him that she pretty much thinks she'll be comfortable, adding, "It's all good."

Charlie? Charlie Trista lets into the hot tub. As the two of them sit in there together, they get started on some pearl-clutching pillow talk you'll have to send the kids to bed for: "My mom was English." Youch! Is it hot in here or is it just...zzzzzzzz. Charlie tells her that his middle name -- Coburn -- is his mother's maiden name. "Coburn," he drones again. "Charles Coburn." Ha cha cha! Chick-a-wha-wha! Gitchee gitchee ya ya here! This is foreplay like a recitation of British sports scores is foreplay. Groton beat Blixtonbury, one nil. Cambridge beat Oxfordshire, one nil. Manchester beat nil. Tell me it sounds any different than this: "I have to have Rose in the middle. Because my mom's name is Rosanne and grandma's name is Rosemary. So I want to have something Rose." Charlie, on the other hand: "You know, if my name wasn't [sic] Charlie, I would love to name my daughter Charly with a 'y.'" Trista loves it, musing dreamily, "Charly Rose." Ha! By the way, y'all? If my last name weren't "Blau," I would totally name all of my kids "Larry King." Back inside, a shirtless Charlie makes sure he has just a little bit of "handles" for her "love." He shuts the bedroom door as we hear Trista's voice from inside: "I'm going to bed." You know what else? If my first name didn't start with a "d," I would totally, inexplicably name all of my kids "Sally Jesse Raphael," and there wouldn't be a damn thing any of you could do to stop me.

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