I don’t know how long you’ve been at this kind of work, kid, but this is the time in every case when the guy you’re investigating really starts to grind your gears. I don’t know how many times I can go back to brass upstairs with shirtless photos of Nick Viall being reluctantly French-tongued by the blond bird and still insist that he’s looking for a wife, but it isn’t my job to second-guess the subject. It’s my job to find this missing likability, which one of these women has secreted away in her cleavage or her tasteful clutch or her string bikini, and return it to its rightful owner — Nick. And against all odds, amidst the cloying scent of Reddiwip®, I came away from this week with a genuine, actual person of interest: Vanessa. This girl is going to the end, and so are we, so get comfortable and train your eyes on that house, because My Nanny Raquel is in rare form this week, and Chief will have my ass if we miss a single frame of her antics. Corinne doesn’t have enough likability to cover herself, let alone bring Nick back from the brink of reality TV exile, but we have to make that case to the toughest critic of all — Nick’s boner — so every second of footage helps.
Roll tape.
We pick up right at the end of last week’s case, The Case of Bang Doula and the Big Secret, in full cliffhanger, as Nick reveals to the women of the house that not every attendant of this murder mystery party was what she seemed. One of the guests had a — gasp! — particularly sinister connection to young Nicholas and his magic penis, having met him “at Jade and Tanner’s wedding,” a phrase that I hope you did not include in your drinking game, because if you did, you are currently alcohol-poisoned. There was a lot of buildup for Nick dropping this particular bomb on the women, and I thought it might be an opportunity to collect some clues about which women are good under pressure, and might like to rush into a hasty engagement, and which are normal ladies who will inevitably be driven mad by this insane situation. But as it turns out, all that really happens is we get to learn everyone’s “you’re dead meat but I’m on camera” faces, and watch as Nick goes on a Tour of Contrition throughout the backyard.
The consensus seems to be, “I knew you were a fuckboi when I walked in the door, but please don’t be a fuckboi again before Fantasy Suites, or I will go off the damn rails.” Which, frankly, is pretty valid.
But like all things in this environment, this mature reaction doesn’t extend all the way to My Nanny Raquel; she has a very different response. Heavy with the knowledge that Nick has been carnal with someone who doesn’t run a multimillion dollar company, My Nanny Raquel lurches down the stairs in what she’s calling a trench coat, and not much else, toting a can of Reddiwip® and looking to fuck some shit up. She finds Nick, of course, because heat-seeking missiles always do, and plies him with can-fresh mouthfuls of room-temperature whipped cream, the cooling treat that every man wants on a stagnant evening in Film Set, California. Somehow, her complete disregard for Nick’s boundaries seems to have broken some of them down, and he seems more enthusiastic about kissing her this time around, and even gamely eats a few curls of of Reddiwip® — “it’s actually very good, please buy it!” — off of her 24-year old bosoms. And this is apparently enough to convince My Nanny Raquel that they are about to take things to the next physical level not only in the backyard, in full view of the girls, but on camera, so she’s shocked and devastated when Nick ends the interaction and allows himself to be taken aside by the next girl wanting to talk to him.
So shocked and devastated, in fact, that she truly can’t get over it. She goes upstairs to cry to The Mole, and cries so hard that she goes to sleep and literally sleeps through the Rose Ceremony. It’s fine, technically, because she already has a rose, but as if you needed more proof that she’s not The Clue, Nick, the girl legit can’t stay on her feet for a full evening. And she’ll prove many more times this episode, so keep your bone down and your eyes on the prize and stop fretting over how the women are reacting to Corinne (badly) and whether he’s validating her behavior (yes). When you’ve been doing this kind of casework for as long as I have, Nick, you learn that the simplest answer is often the best one.
Getting roses at this ceremony are Astrid, who’s as surprised as I am to hear herself called first, Taylor, aka The Wrong One, Pilates Whitney, Kristina, who’s so far distinguished herself only by having a full-on meldtown before each Rose Ceremony, Danielle L., Rachel, Vanessa, Raven, Jaimi, Dominique, Sarah, Shark Week, Brittany, White Chicks, and Jasmine, who no longer has to go by a last initial, because her name twin went home. That means going home is Hailee, the girl from the first night who wasn’t wearing panties, and Lacey, who rode in on a camel and who I knew as The Mole for her willingness to be a listening ear for the ticking time bomb that is Corinne. And finally, Yellow Dress is going home. Best of luck to you, Yellow Dress, whoever you are. We hardly knew ye.
And now, having wrapped up what we should’ve finished last week, it’s time to hand out that date card, and Chris Harrison has never been so excited. He seems like he’s like to go on this date himself — instead of Danielle L., Miley Shoulders, Princess Meltdown, Pilates Whitney, The Wrong One, Jasmine, and My Nanny Raquel, who are actually going — and that’s no surprise, since it’s performing onstage with the literal Backstreet Boys, who come flooding into the room to make sure everyone gets a chance to hug Brian Littrell and wonder about that little scrap of hair on the back of his head. They tell the women to dress comfortably, and we’re off, and I just have to say that if someone doesn’t make a joke about Nick also being “back”, just like Backstreet’s back, I’m gonna need somebody’s job.
This date seems tailor-made to tickle My Nanny Raquel right in the ego spot, as we discover that this group will be dancing with BSB in front of 500 people, while the boy band decides who has the best chemistry with Nick. “Are you a dancer?,” says My Nanny Raquel, to professional cheerleader Jasmine. “Where you been, sleeping?” she flings back. I like Jasmine. But without the full glare of the spotlight being focused directly on her, Corinne swiftly slides into a tantrum, running off to cry in the bathroom. And with The Mole sent back down to tunnel her way home, someone else has to go comfort My Nanny Raquel. I don’t know if the producers are offering these women more per diem or what, to pretend to be her friend, but there’s Pilates Whitney, nodding patiently alongside My Nanny Raquel as she blubbers, even though I’ve never seen them exchange words before. Meanwhile, Danielle is out there getting as good at the dance as Jasmine is at saying, “Where is Corinne?”, and she wins a slow dance with Nick in the middle of the stage, complete with smooches. Annnnnd you don’t have to be a detective to predict that this sets off My Nanny Raquel, who starts issuing extremely rational responses like, “I’m falling behind,” and, “This was the worst day in my life.” Cool cool cool cool cool.
I’m looking forward to Nick giving her a talking-to during their one-on-one, after she pulls him aside first, but all he does is thank her for apologizing for sleeping through the Rose Ceremony (still not over that), and they’re back to these agita-inducing lunge-kisses. Ugh, it’s too stressful, I can’t watch. But I also can’t take my eyes off it, like a car accident. Corinne gets another nap, and Danielle L. gets the group date rose, Nick’s hands all over her butt, and my full attention as a potential heavy-hitter in this game.
Back at the house, the one-on-one date card is being delivered, and it has an unsurprising name on it: Vanessa. She gets to go up into space in one of those zero gravity jets to vom in a bag, and I honestly don’t have much to say about this part, because I was so shocked by how perfect the energy was between them that I didn’t write much down. He was kissing her on the forehead, caring and solicitous when she got sick, and trying to make her laugh with goofy antics while they were floating around the cabin. They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, even while Vanessa was yakking. I know I’m supposed to be a hard-boiled detective, but I smiled like a maniac during this entire date; it made me want to get a few whiskeys in me and call my bitch ex-wife Dolores to reconcile.
At the mansion, Rachel, Shark Week, Astrid, Jaimi, Sarah, Brittany, and Dominique are being invited on a date card with the clue “I’m done playing the field,” and everyone’s pumped for athletics. These ladies can’t wait to get out on the field and tear each other up.
On the second half of their date, Nick is pretty obviously trying to impress Vanessa, which feels like a very good sign. “This is the tallest building in LA,” he intones, as they walk out onto its roof. They talk about Nick’s time on the show, which she’s seen very little of, although his connection with his mother stuck with her. Apparently Vanessa’s grandfather died just before she came on the show, and now she feels like he’s with her during this experience. She also wants to know why Nick would put himself through this process again, which is also how I feel when explaining to normals why I watch this show, but she gets a very revealing and surprisingly self-aware statement out of Nick, who says that he’s back because he felt something really strong for each of the women he’s been connected to — except Jen Saviano, LOL — and it’s left him second-guessing himself a little bit. “It makes me wonder if I can trust my own emotions in this atmosphere,” he says, and then sheds actual human tears about how optimistic his date with Vanessa has left him. I flatter myself that I’m a snarky, rotten person, but this is truthfully hard to watch, because I want it for myself. She gets the rose. (Duh.)
As these animals suspected, the group date is an athletic activity, with Olympic athletes structuring a “Nickathlon”, with Nick-themed competitions like long jump, high jump, and the 100-meter dash. All you need to know is that Astrid wore the wrong bra, that Jaimi won my heart with a quip about Shark Week — who knew that little booger was so athletic?, and that Dominique is swiftly unraveling. She came into the date with a good attitude, but this is her first time hanging with Nick, and the more obvious how behind the other girls she is as far as a physical connection, the more up in her head she gets. While Astrid wins a competition for bounciest boobs and gets to soak them in a hot tub while making tub smooches with Nick, Dominique is questioning everything. Which is really a shame, because she seems like a cool girl, and her makeup is tight.
Rachel takes Dominique aside to try to pump her up a little bit, and Dominique seems like she might be getting a second wind and making a comeback, but then she sees Nick and Ms. First Impression Rose herself swapping spit and she feels like she has to say something. In their one-on-one time, Dominique accuses Nick of not giving her a chance, which is simultaneously incredibly accurate, as he hasn’t made an effort with her hardly at all, and incredibly unrealistic, as there were literally seven women on this date. Nick hears her out, which I appreciate, and basically validates her concerns by saying their relationship isn’t where the others are, and sending her home. Rachel gets another rose to add to her garden.
The next day, everyone is stressing about the Cocktail Party, only to find out that there won’t be one, because Nick already knows what he wants to do. Instead, there will be a pool party, which is basically the same thing, just without the high heels and standing around all night. I’m on board. Especially because it gives me another opportunity to experience Shark Week, who is swiftly becoming my favorite person on this season. One thing I’m sure of with her is that she isn’t actually into Nick — she just seems happy to be there. She’s saying all the things in person that I’m saying from a distance, so I’m nearly convinced at this point that she’s a Pop Culture Detective herself. She successfully noticed Dominique going into her “full-on spiral,” noted that “these girls are going crazy” over the Bang Doula news, and says about the pool party — “there’s a bunch of horny girls in the house, so I don’t know how this is gonna go”. She’s my eyes and ears (and name) in the house, and I don’t want to ever let her go.
Especially because she turns out to be right. The women are all over Nick, in all his bare-chested finery, and there isn’t really anywhere to hide, so if you’re getting physical with our hero, it’s a safe bet that every other woman in the house can see and/or hear you. And yes, I’m really just talking to you, My Nanny Raquel. She’s has the dude on his back, straddling him in a bounce house with no roof, next to a real house with yes roof, which gives the women a perfect vantage point to see her feverish humpings.
And from that point, the pool party takes a turn, just as Shark Week knew it would. Suddenly, every conversation that Nick gets pulled aside to have is about Corinne, and how Nick’s continued encouragement of her behavior is making them start to question his intentions with them. Raven fills him in on the whole “nanny” thing — watching Jasmine find out about My Nanny Raquel this week was a true highlight — and the episode ends with some very real talk from my new hero Vanessa, who’s busting out phrases like, “why would you do something like that?” and “I’m not judging Corinne, I’m judging your actions,” “I question what your intentions are,” and finally, “Are you looking for a wife or just someone to fuck around with?” Yes. Girl.
Make as many excuses as you want about how you thought you saw your likability fall into the bounce house, or down Corinne’s tube top, but this is not the fiancee you seek, Nick. My gut instinct tells me he knows he has to send her home soon, and now it’s just a question of how many of these real contenders get fed up and walk off the show first.
Get your head in the game, Nicholas. We’re losing time, and I can’t go back to brass empty-handed.
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Alexis Rhiannon (@mindtheclam) is a freelance writer and comedian who grew up in Portland, Oregon, and is now located in New York City. Her interests include reality television, bar trivia, pop culture conspiracies, and someday cleaning her apartment. She can be seen monthly at the improvised show Live Dubbed Sitcoms at Videology in Williamsburg.