Welcome back to Herpes Watch 2010. So far: No herpes, but a possible canker sore was spotted on Frank after he rolled around with Ali under the Hollywood sign (although the outbreak might be stress-induced from watching "his" girlfriend make out with a bunch of other dudes). By the way, the word of the day is: BOHUNKS. I never heard this word before watching 16 Candles, but it is clear, Ali has a houseful of bohunks who are all vying for her attention and national fame. God help us all.
Chris Harrison earns his $800,000 salary by waltzing into the Men's Mansion and reminding them to make the most of their time with Ali because life is short, this is a cut-throat competition, and Ali is a puma on the prowl. Harrison adds that not everyone is getting a date (again!) so if you are so lucky, the other guys will definitely short-sheet your bed and stick your briefs in the vegetable crisper because NO ONE EATS BROCCOLI IN THIS HOUSE. Harrison announces that Roberto has the first date, and then he heads back to the green room for his cucumber facial and MAN-icure. Everyone fake-congratulates Roberto whilst plucking hairs from his head for their DIY voodoo dolls. Roberto is pretty much a catch, what with his Latin looks, pearly whites and Major League Baseball past. There's only one part of Roberto that gives me pause: His job. When his ID flashes on screen he is listed as Roberto of Charleston, South Carolina, INSURANCE AGENT. I mean, sure, I would buy shoes two sizes too small from this guy, if that's what he was hawking, but really Roberto? That's what you've come to? Insurance and reality television? It's just kind of sad, like he's a character in a Raymond Carver story. Regardless, you KNOW that he's destined to spend nights at the bar wistfully recounting the days when he could have been a contender. Aw crap. Now I just want to give him a cuddle. GIVE ME A CUDDLE, BOY! Maybe it's all a ploy for cuddles. Anyway, Roberto gives us the usual spiel: I can't wait for my date; I'm a poet, I don't know it! Ali pulls up in her bitchin' Camaro (note: I have no idea if it's a Camaro), but fear not: they aren't driving. Not after that fiasco with the damn rental car breaking down on the damn side of the damn highway. They are flying! Again! Even though Ali is completely scared of flying! Good thinking, producers! Way to manufacture the dramaz. Luckily for Roberto this gives a lot of opportunity to get all handsy in the helicopter. ("That's not second base, that's moral support!") They finally land, hug some more, and then Ali explains that they are here for dinner. But by "here" she means "way the fuck over there." She points at a scarcely visible table for two that is barely a blip on the horizon. Gosh, how will they ever get there? Oh they just have to walk on a tightrope suspended 50 stories up to get to their salmon entrees. Know what this calls for? Yep. More hugging.