Dear Juan Pablo,

Is it cool if I call you “JP” going forward? Awesome. I thought you’d be okay with it. Have you started reading yet?  I noticed that several of your candidates for a lifetime partnership mention Dr. Seuss as their favorite author…some of his ideas become complex (one of those books is about the arms race) but the words are usually simple. You will like that.  Also, these girls uniformly LOVE The Notebook (the movie, not the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel) and are desperate to go to Paris.

So while I am not entirely convinced that you were even aware that you were on a reality television program last year, fighting for the love of one Desiree (who probably settled, and good for her, right? Right), here you are, back for love.

There are a couple of requests I am going to make at the outset of this program: requests for you, requests for your lady companions…just some requests to make my job recapping this Kardashian love-interest-producing factory easier and more enjoyable than it has been.

You promise it will be different this time. JP. The only difference I can see so far is a four-hour, two-night “premiere” I have to sit through Deer Hunter-style beginning Sunday, January 5^th.

(Listen, I get the gig. I know the show has all been filmed. But this ain’t the only falsehood that has been perpetrated for dramatic consistency in relation to The Bachelor, and it’s not going to be the last.)

• Please make the girl who shows up in the trailer pregnant actually be pregnant. You know what pregnant women can’t do? Go in hot tubs. Drink constantly. Ride on planes. Ride in helicopters. Eat brie. Sail on ships. Go dancing to the band Train. Be trusted to make rational decisions.

• If she is faking the pregnancy and she doesn’t ironically get pregnant for real, make sure she is kept around to showcase the sound judgment that goes with faking a pregnancy to make a first impression. Fake pregnancy is HILARIOUS, have you guys seen An Officer and A Gentleman?  (I know it was made before all of these people were born.)

 

• The girl who does not get picked to stick around on the 2-on-1 date is immediately cast to walk the Cursed Earth, judging others for all eternity.  NB to ABC: This is what the kids call a money-in-the-bank spinoff. I suggest as a host one of those ancillary Kardashian daughters who are part offspring of humanity’s sideshow Bruce Jenner.

• Make Alexis, the Florida-based communications director who hopes to roam the earth converting people to Catholicism, get started during the first cocktail hour. Baptisms for everyone in the hot tub!

 Please force Amy J. to clarify what the romance is of the 4^th of July. If it is not a reference to Neil Diamond’s “America,” force her to leave immediately.

•  Apparently this Lauren shows up with a piano. Please force her to bring it everywhere with her.
• Please ask Andi, the Assistant District Attorney, to clarify whether she quit her job to find love with you, took an unpaid leave of absence, or is currently costing taxpayer money while she tries to impress you? I know Atlanta’s crime-free, so I am sure it was NBD that she left town for three months.

• Do NOT not hold Cassandra’s hand when you take her out on a date. Do NOT.  And when you send this 21 year-old packing, make sure she knows she will never meet anyone else again. Say it with me, Cassandra: “This was my chance and I blew it and my life is over.”

• Please make Kylie play her favorite board game, Jumanji. I am honestly desperate for more Kirsten Dunst in my life and would love to see someone get trapped in board game with a bunch of wild animals rather than sit on the magical couch to talk about that time one of you accidentally beat someone to death.

Please have one of the following confessions come up in the magic couch conversation that always follows the obstacle-surmounting portion of the one-on-one date:

• “I killed someone, but habeas corpus and here I am.”
• “I did time while I was studying abroad in the Philippines.”
•  “The song ‘Last Dance with Mary Jane’ is about my mom.”
• “I dealt drugs to put myself through dance school.”
• “I am faking this pregnancy.”
• “Those were not my hands playing the piano that I had to bring here. Can I leave it home next time?”
• “I put something in your room in the toilet and I won’t tell you what it is until you give me a rose.”
• “I’m just here to get revenge on my daddy.”
• “I don’t really like The Notebook.”
• “I hate your kid.”
• “I hate my parents.”
• “I shouldn’t be drinking all of this alcohol.”

Make Lucy, 24, occupation: Free Spirit (no, really, that’s real and I am not making it up, nor am I making up the part of her bio that says “my best friend Kate Upton”) deliver on all of the promise that comes with saying that is your occupation.

I want bonkers-crazo insufferable faux-intellectual madness, JP. Make it so.

 

Please put Lucy and Maggie “Southern by the Grace of God”  in a room together to talk about vaccinations, drug laws, and Obama. Leave your least favorite camera man and lock the door.

See you in Hell.

Love,

Sara

*Open letters are SO hot right now.

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Featured image: ABC/Craig Sjodin