It works out baldly. TJ -- as nice a guy and as close a friend to Meredith as I'm certain he is -- has a certain pattern, and that pattern is the male medical condition typified by that word falling between "male" and "balding." He's Meredith's age, I'm guessing, and he looks like my dad. Except he's smiling. Meh. I'll save it for therapy. Anyway, his confessional explains, "My hopes for Meradee is that she finds somebody who makes her happy." As opposed to all of those closest friends who want to see their own Meredees get eaten by bears. "I know what she likes, and I can also use my judgment to really marry that up to get the best person for her," adds TJ. Meanwhile, four out of five Bachelor/ette-winning couples throw down the "BREAKUP!" cover stories of In Touch featuring photographs of themselves on the cover, scoff sourly at their TVs, and announce, "Uh-huh. 'Marry.' Yeah, good luck with that, dude." Enough with the one-man rambling thought piece, stranger. In other words: shut up, Balding Gray.
Chris (are you still here?) adds, "They're gonna be staying here for a while. They are also gonna decide which three of you get intimate dates this week. The rest of you: goin' on a group date." Fearless in its format, this show. Fearless. Speaking of which, last night I had a dream that Mike Fleiss paid me $10,000 for the intellectual property for my idea that five of the guys had to be eliminated on sight right after they stepped out of the limo. Because I've had some clunkers in my day, but you've got to admit that is one stellar idea. And you've got to admit that $10,000 is exactly the going rate for such cerebral heavy lifting. And you've got to admit that my email address is available right here on this very website on which such a format-shattering prospect was proposed. Fleiss, you've got a lot of things to admit. But first, don't you have an email to send?
"And to decide who gets what dates, they have a little project for you this morning," Chris continues. A project! Shoebox diorama? Hanging mobile? White chalk drawing on black construction paper? You'd better think of something! The Spring Exhibit is right around the corner, people! "I know you've noticed the seven portfolios in front of you." In fact, I had not. But lo, right on the coffee table in front of them lay seven leather-bound black portfolio folders. Man, when the P.A. who had to buy those ran into Staples, the manager on duty was like, "Score. We never sell the pricy shit here. But, I mean, 'yeah...we got that.'" Chris plugs away: "Inside, pen and paper." So, then, the person who gets the one-on-one date is the first person who can successfully become a corporate lawyer? Or at least impersonate one? Wouldn't that take a long time, and don't they have to clear out the house to shoot the next fourteen seasons of this show in the next eleven days? "You're gonna write a letter explaining why you are the right man for Meredith." And they'll be reading them out loud to TJ and KJ, and even though I think it would be awesome if they also had to read them out loud in front of all of the other guys as well, I'm not going to say that out loud because I am still waiting for a very important check to come my way, so until then, the idea vault is closed. The guys all throw their heads back in shocked expressions of "but surely the art of writing is only for the trained aesthetes of our beloved city-state!" and take off to separate corners of the house at Chris's recommendation for an hour of thinky-write-y time. Were there only some explicating footage of the guys constructing these letters so that we could better understand what this art of "writing" is. Ah, here we go now.