I had never watched an episode of “The Bachelor/Bachelorette” before this season, but recorded the first episode in a moment of desperation during those two weeks when I was on maternity leave with no baby.
Now, of course, I’m hooked. Where has this show been all my life?! Oh yeah, on ABC.
Sometimes, typically when I’m nursing Charlie, I guilt Husband Charles into watching part of an episode with me. I like to torture him.
A few weeks back, the guys were forced to write a love poem for the Bachelorette within an hour, then perform it for her. Charles refused to watch; it would be too painful to witness their humiliation.
Me: Come on – Could you write me a love poem under pressure like that?
I promptly forgot about the conversation. I’m sure Charlie pooped or something and distracted me.
An hour later, as Charles was walking out the door for work, he says, “I wrote you that poem. It’s on the bed.”
I went downstairs to discover this:
THE BRIGHTEST ROSE
A partner, teammate, lover and friend,
a mother on whom her son can depend,
no bachelorette with sixteen to contend,
but an angel, my heart to transform and transcend.
I wrote you a sonnet while you were up-stair,
dismissing this televised sordid affair;
ABC shouldn’t think I could possibly care
with the filled, filling light called Jessica there.
Give me a kiss then, friend and lover!
Join me gleeful undercover.
Impress, encoil, tangle, hover,
tighten, rampage, rediscover.
They don’t intrude, reality shows.
For I’ve the truest, brightest rose.
Awwww. I love that guy!