Molly Pennington

The Bachelor seduces us because of its titillating alignment with larger American culture. We wouldn't have predicted we'd find anything meaningful in reality television and yet, now that a reality star is set to helm the country, we know we must've missed some bigger connection somewhere along the way.

Ten days after my first due date came and went, I looked in the mirror, screamed, and basically died. Overnight, my stomach and hips had become covered in cherry-pink stretch marks, veining out as if my entire torso had fractured.

The news about Rachel destroyed this whole episode because after she was confirmed as the Next Bachelorette, nothing else mattered. Rachel is The New Queen of Bachelor Nation, her Majesty the real actual winner of this damn show. Twitter exploded with glee as the whole rhapsody trended.

Nick's Heart: Is it Even Real?

Nick seems most happy when scampering tipsy across the sand. 

I drank caffeine, ate candy, ignored What to Expect While You're Expecting — and nothing bad happened.

Television has been a pulpit since its invention. And pop culture is like religion in that it can create and govern belief.

Josephine sang us out on Episode 3 with a self-styled show tune she performed for Nick.

Your hometown is not just some rando locale where you grew up. It's your entire identity, basically. It's the setting for your self-made reality: "This is who I am," chirps Raven. That's why Nick just goes with "Milwaukee" instead of saying godforsaken "Waukesha" when the cops grill him about where he's from. Because Nick is someplace you've heard of. We go muddin,' go to church, go shopping, and go to school with the four remaining bachelorettes on the ever-illuminating Hometown dates.

I've been checking out Flex Form technology and Radiant designs where I can get Aztec stripes on my tampon wrappers. But what I really need to know is if there is an overnight pad that doesn't have freaking wings attached to it. I hate wings. These flypaper-level stickiness, rip-the-color-off-your-undies flaps should not be called wings.

This teensy little Bachelor episode is only an hour long, but it's one enormous, platinum vagine tease from start to finish.