And, just like that, dinner's over. Bob tells the family that they're "amazing," which is hyperbole in any language. Except in Wolof, in which the word pronounced "amazing" actually means "short." Nah, I'm fuckin' with you. I have no idea. Bob tells us that they went back to Mary's house to "recap" the evening, though I have repeatedly implored him in the past to please, for the love of all things holy, leave the recapping to the professionals. Please. This is what I'm trained in. You don't see me leaving my mortgage company in the hands of my poor, put-upon partner while I frolic off to Southern California for some open-mouthed kissing and karaoke, do you? WELL, DO YOU? Separate corners. That's all I'm saying.
Mary kind of straddles Bob on her couch, sitting above him in a most unfeminine position. They talk of the future they will never have together, Mary confessionalizing, "Bob may not be able to tell me in words, but when we kiss, I feel it, and I know that he does, too." She waits for the moment that Bob can tell her that he loves her, adding, "I wait for that moment. I know it's gonna come." But Bob dun-dun-DUNS to us, "She's certainly at a different stage than a lot of these women might be. She's looking for something a little more firm, a little more solid. And that's something I have to make sure is right for me." Yup. Deciding that you're committed for life when you put an engagement ring on someone's finger is one of the most important decisions you can make.
Oh, the Wells-Fargo Wagon is a-coming in! Yee-haw! I reckon it's time for some vis-i-tation out to the Ol' West! I'm a-gonna bring down Mr. Willoughby and Skeeter Bob Junior and Old Pappy, and we're a-gonna blow rhythmically in a jug and pan for some gold and develop the frontier! ["Dreamin'!" -- Wing Chun]
At least that's what the opening shots of Wheaton, Illinois make us believe we're going to do, playing with our preconceived notions of what happens in Illinois: a Gen'ral Store, a little red schoolhouse, a real live train, and two kids drinking outta one ice cream soda with two straws make up a mise en scène that belies that fact that we're literally thirty miles outside of downtown Chicago. Then again, we also seem to be about thirty miles from something the map ambiguously refers to just as "Indiana." Anyone got a read on exactly what in the hell THAT is?
Romance of romances, Bob meets Kelly Jo in a parking lot. She's wearing a black sleeveless top that's going to show up in the Wheaton Picayune Gazette police blotter if things there don't become a little more thoroughly modern by the end of the date. In the Suburban on the way to the house, Kelly Jo bemoans the fact that this will probably be a difficult day for Kelly Jo's mother, "because [Kelly Jo's] Dad's not there." Uh-oh. Remember, it was only in the editing that they made Bob look sympathetic to the lemming-esque nature of the Bachelorette's family members during the taping of this season. He likes the dead relatives. But he does not love the dead relatives. So tread lightly, because the ground is still pretty soft in Nana's new digs. Oops. Didn't mean to say "digs." That must sound wrong.