Bachelor
Taller Than The Washington Monument

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A Fantasy Suite In The Lincoln Bedroom

Jesse and Tara finally work out the seating arrangements before the music stops and someone has to go sit on the side. Jesse holds up a glass of white wine (watch it carefully...it's like the mysteriously-growing pancake in Pretty Woman) and toasts as follows: "Here's to you and I [sic] getting a chance to know each other better, and to being closer." Ah ah ah! Two toasts in one! That's totally cheating. We're totally these freaky toastaholics in my family, and we toast every time someone pours a liquid. One toast per drink. Like Jesse won't get to a second drink. Actually, we usually just stop toasting when my mom tries to say something about having everyone together in one place and starts to cry. Jesse soldiers on, speaking the words all girls long to hear: "Tara, I'm crazy about you." Such loving words that he spells out in feelings for her in the same speech he might use to inform a television viewing audience that his prices are iiiiin-saaaaaaane! He tries to soften it up a bit, adding, "I'm falling for you. I am." She responds -- and this is a direct quote -- "You're feeling the same things that I am." So, there you go, right? Similar feelings? Put up the ol' "Mission Accomplished" banner and give a proud speech from the deck of the U.S.S. Looooooove. Or is it...too premature? Per Jesse's subsequent confessional, yes: "I don't know exactly where Tara's feelings are for me. In my other relationships with the other women, they are able to express themselves with me...With Tara, there are moments where I'm just not sure." I...what? "You're feeling the same things that I am" isn't enough of an indicator? Does he need her to beg? He actually needs her to beg. And he also needs her to read this note, because he sounded it out all day and that's why he became the blind ice skater: "Should you decide to forego your individual rooms, please use this key to spend the night as a couple in the fantasy suite." Man. They didn't even change the copy from the previous six seasons! At all. Truly, this is a creepy new low. Tara jokes that she doesn't want to, but really she does. "Anything to spend more time with you, I'm all for it," she ingratiates, and Jesse tells her that that's her "best answer all day." Her wine is now mysteriously completely red. That surf and turf wreaks havoc with the wine selection.

More wine up in the fantasy suite, where Jesse's confessional tells us, "I want to be intimate with [Tara]," which totally means sex, right? But he's still concerned that she isn't expressing herself properly, and he tells her, "I'm not trying to bring the house down," and I don't know what that means unless the Chateau Frontenac is made of straw and he's going to go downstairs and try to blow it over. Anyway, he laments the fact that he still doesn't know how she feels, chiding her, "You've gotta be able to just kinda open up with me and tell me how you're feeling." Oh, okay. Fine. But it's just so hard for me to express myself properly. Let me try: I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

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