Next up is Jamie, who concocts as boring an answer as possible to the question, "What do you value most in a relationship?" He crosses the rest of our eyes with numbing stasis (his eyes stay fixed in their sockets, however, since the Raelians who manufactured him have not yet dabbled in the newfangled ocular cloning methods of "googly"), regaling them with a story about how his parents have been married for thirty-five years and commitment is so important la la lee lee loo. Jamie? Friend? This is a game show. And the men who invented this niche genre of game shows lo these many years ago referred to the most intimate act a man and woman can share as "whoopee." Everyone's just kidding, a little. Get in the damn spirit already or you're on the fast bus to Sincerity Station with your other small blond friend over there.
Charlie, meanwhile, is wearing a black tank top that makes him look like he's a can of spinach away from singing in a cartoonish rasp and marrying Shelly Duvall. The Three Wise Women inquire about the possibility of a one-on-one date with Trista, asking him, "What might you do for her to make it romantic?" His answer is that he just wants to "talk to her," which is a refreshingly unbullshitty response, particularly when put next to Ryan's I-saw-this-in-a- movie-once-where- they're-all-really- happy-until-everyone-dies- of-cancer-and-stuff clichéd response, "It'd be a calming, sort of peaceful mood. Candlelight, or...some sort of view. Sunset. Something like that. A walk on the beach." You know what's really sexy? Sentence structure.
Greg wrote a song for Trista. Oh, no shit?
Bob notes that there would be dancing on his date, because "there's not enough dancing in this whole thing." What about a shuffle? Would that do? What if it's off to Buffalo? Would that suffice? Bob? I SAY, CAN YOU HEAR ME OVER THE SOUND OF YOUR OWN CLOCK TICKING?
Oh, the "fun one!" The Three Wise Women ask Jamie what size shoe he wears, and he incites cackles with his mock-defensive, "I know where this is going." Rob is a "ten," which means eight and a half. Mike is a "ten and a half or eleven," which means ten. Jamie is a "twenty-two," which is pretty funny but will make for a bear of a time on the one-on-one bowling alley date he's clearly just screwed himself right out of. Bob is a "twelve and a half," which means this shoe-size question just made me inadvertently think tangentially about Bob's naughty bits. Ew. Shut up, show. What's that dog doing there?