• The Bachelor displays our infantile fear of abandonment when separated from the internet and the outside world. I therefore watch The Bachelor as a cautionary tale of what might happen if I were ever separated from my phone.
  • I’m intrigued by The Bachelor as a microcosm of popular white female baby names of the mid- to late-1990s, including but not limited to “Hannah Ann,” “Hannah B.,” and chiefly, “Mykenna.”
  • I simply watch because I’m reading Amy Kaufman’s seminal book, Bachelor Nation: Inside the World of America’s Guilty Pleasure for my book club. As usual, the book far exceeds the television adaptation!
  • I’m conducting a linguistic etymological survey of the phrase, “I love that.”
  • I watch The Bachelor with my mom, which gives her a passive-aggressive critical lens through which to comment on my love life instead of being openly disappointed that Rick hasn’t proposed to me yet.
  • I find the “Next Week on The Bachelor” promotional advertisements to be a classic example of how editing can be used to manipulate viewers into believing something different from the truth—much like Michael Bloomberg’s campaign ads attempted (good riddance, Mike)!
  • I’m interested in analyzing the importance of “opening up” via “crying” and how this plays into our fantasies of ideal womanhood. See Victoria F., Kelsey, Victoria F., Kelley’s lack thereof, and Victoria F. again as key data points.
  • I'm fascinated by the extraordinary variances in context and connotation amongst the phrases: “I know I’m falling in love with you,” “I’m falling for you,” and finally, “My heart is definitely falling right now,” a viciously empty declaration.
  • I only started watching because it was playing at my dermatologist’s office, and because I, too, am crushed under the weight of our cultural obsession with youth, I pointed to the TV and said, “Make me look like those grown babies.”
  • I watch to observe how these unthinkably egocentric people desecrate cultures around the globe while leaving an unforgivable carbon footprint all in the name of “romantic getaways,” and “Chop, chop. Give me a rose.”
  • I enjoy the cinéma vérité aspect of filmmaking that is often deployed when the bachelor needs to comfort a crying contestant off-screen and the producers want to give them their space but also capture the “juicy drama.”
  • I watch because the show poses many pertinent questions that can also be applied to our society as a whole. Namely: “Will a black woman ever win?”
  • I tune in to observe how beauty “standards” have evolved from the early aught’s premiere of The Bachelor onward, and how these expectations are linked correlationally, and perhaps causally, to the rise of this media franchise, begging the question—aren’t we all “Bachelor Nation?”
  • I would argue that when Shakespeare wrote, “The course of true love never did run smooth” he was predicting a future Bachelor group date in which the contestants play a physically brutal game of football which culminates with Peter giving the rose to ALAYAH who wasn’t even on the date because she HAD BEEN SENT HOME ALREADY but Peter has NOT LEARNED HOW TO MAKE ONE SINGLE ADULT DECISION IN HIS MISERABLE GODFORSAKEN LIFE SERIOUSLY PETER I CAN’T. I CAN’T WITH YOU. GET THAT F***ING CAMERA OUT OF MY FACE.
  • I merely watch it to collect data for an experiment I am conducting in compulsory heterosexuality.

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