I don’t think I’ve talked much about The Bachelor in my blogging—not even sure if I’ve talked about the fact that I watch it. I do, and have for many seasons now. I always watch it to laugh at the desperate and shallow people on it, but by the end I am usually invested in one or more of the relationships and hoping that this time maybe it’s legit, and not just the semi-scripted speeches all the contestants have to give every season and fake relationships that barely last past the final episode’s air date.
This season’s bachelor, Sean, has seemed very earnest in his intentions, but his choices for his final two make me question that. Specifically, his choice to keep the nearly illiterate Lindsey on and send Ashlee home (it might be snarky to point out the girl’s issues with language but she speaks like a child, and it isn’t cute). My guess is he knows he’s going to pick the other of his final two and thought Lindsey could take the rejection later better than Ashlee. Anyway, what I wanted to talk about was not the ones he kept but the one he sent home, specifically how she handled her exit.
It was a spectacular woman scorned exit. It was the best exit in Bachelor history, in my opinion. And it was also exactly how a lady should behave.
Unlike the girls who break down and cry, or sob all over the shoulder of the guy who just rejected them, Ashlee held her emotions in and didn’t make a big display. She was perfectly willing to leave without any words at all, because, really, what is there to say in that situation? Does it matter why a guy is choosing someone else? No. All that matters is that he wants someone else more than you. But he asked to explain himself, and she graciously allowed him to speak his trite little piece about not hurting her and how he had thought he would choose her, etc., in order to expunge his own guilt. It was hilarious how quickly he shut down when she did not encourage him to keep going. Through it all she just looked at him, and then she left without a word. There’s nothing to say.
In the car, she managed to keep it together long enough to make her point, and even when she was crying she made a point not to be seen crying. I loved that. She put her hair in the way and kept it off camera, so even if we all knew she was, the emotion was still hers—private, internalized, and unwillingly revealed rather than thrown out for everyone to watch. I have that aspect to my personality, that need for absolute secrecy; the look on her face, the pride that kept her eyes dry until she was alone and that held her tongue because nothing she could say would do anything other than make her look weak or pathetic.
I was impressed with how she handled it all. It was old school. Very ladylike. I go back and forth on whether I actually want to be a lady in my personal life, but I always admire those who commit to it and pull it off. It’s a helluva defense.