We’re down to six girls now and three of them: Faith, Rachel and Steph are yet to have a second date with Richie. Osher comes and delivers his card and Nikki has the good grace to read it since she realises that it was her turn last episode and it won’t be her again. Alex, on the other hand sits like a golden retriever, salivating in anticipation of a bone.
Rachel says she can’t go home before Richie has seen all of her. Faith gets the date card, so I guess Rach will be doing a nudie run at the cocktail party.
Sadly for Faith, this one-on-one has a tag-along in the form of comedian Hamish Blake. I say this is sad, because from my study of the genre, (ie. when Kevin James and Ice Cube accompanied Ben and Caila on their date in last season of The Bachelor US) the comedian commands most of the attention. So this is the type of date where you choose a girl that you don’t really want to get to know any better, but she doesn’t cotton on because Hamish is just soooooo funny.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love Hamish, but surely it’s his comedy partner Andy Lee who really needs to be in there. Woman’s Day announced 2006 Bachelor of the Year Andy’s latest return to single status a month ago and let’s not forget that Andy let Megan Gale get away. Megan. Fricken. Gale. Clearly Andy needs help.
Anyway, back to the date. Hamish announces that he will be accompanying them and he will be playing a toddler named Rory.
“Oh my god! That’s hilarious!” guffaws Faith, doubled over as she is totally overcome with mirth.
Her sides split when Rory suggests that Richie’s type is blonde.
And when Rory chucks a hunger tantrum in a bakery, Faith laughs so hard that I think a little bit of wee may have come out (as well as the F-word).
Poor, poor deluded Faith.
The fun continues at a bowling alley, an activity for which Faith is so inappropriately dressed that one would think that it’s all part of the joke.
My belly is sore from laughter by the time Faith has to take Rory to the little Gold Logie winner’s room and sing him the toilet song. Spontaneous songstress Faith is not, so Richie comes to the rescue:
“Tinkle, tinkle little…dinkle,” he manages to sputter before erupting in admiration of his own comedic genius.
So by the time they have dressed Rory in his jimmy-jam-jams and tucked him into bed, Richie and Faith have said about two words to each other all date. Then in a shameless plug for Menulog, they order some home delivered Italian. They drink some wine and eat nothing and finally get to chat and they chat about…nothing. They share a kiss, but shock! Horror! There is no rose.
And I for one think that’s pretty damned funny.
Olena has been off hunting for date cards and she, unlike Faith, does not come back empty-handed.
“Things are starting to make sense,” reads Olena.
“Sense…cens..census!” exclaims Rachel wondering if they are going to do it on-line or a paper copy.
And it’s her name that is on the card, so she hurries off to get ready and find a pen.
Richie recalls their last date and says that he wants to slow this one down a bit. Not sure how you can get much slower than rum tasting in the belly of a tall ship, but Richie reckons he’s got it sorted.
And he has. They are going to explore the five senses, so they start off with sight and take photos of themselves.
Smell. They make their own fragrance after being made privy to the secret of fragrance making.
“Smell something until you smell something that you like.”
That’s the same logic as making chocolate by melting chocolate. Anyway, they squirt a couple of eye droppers and come up with something that Richie calls “or-duh-toilet”.
And somewhere a French person just curled up and died.
Touch. Richie goes to massage Rachel’s gnarly feet, but she settles for a hand job…I mean massage, hand massage.
Taste. Rachel eats a piece of sushi. Richie takes a photo to prove that he doesn’t starve his women.
Hearing. Richie reads Rachel a letter from her mother. Rachel cries.
It could have been the perfect date for Rachel, if only Richie hadn’t explored the lesser known sixth sense – rebuff.
No rose.
Cocktail party time and the ultimate embarrassing scenario has happened. Olena has recycled an outfit.
Rachel is all girly and pony-tail and bouncy enthusiasm in a vain effort to conceal her rose disappointment.
Alex has gone the dark eyeliner in anticipation that she might cry, and we all know nothing melts a man’s heart more than cheeks smeared in black misery.
She has brought her white rose with her tonight and she is going to open up to Richie and leave herself vulnerable…she’s going to show him photos of her son. Or herself pre-op. Photos of a boy in any case.
“He looks just like you,” says Richie. Like that solves the mystery.
“If it’s us, you have to come in as someone who loves him and supports him and watch his footy games,” she says, implying that Elijah’s sperm donor is a complete arsehole.
No pressure, Richie. No pressure at all.
Rose Ceremony. With only six of them left they are all looking a little vulnerable.
Faith.
Alex. Mascara wasted.
Nikki.
Olena.
Rachel.
The final intruder, Steph has gone.
“Things happen for a reason,” philosophies Steph. “And I just have to suck it up.” And surely with that outlook, she will snare a man in no time.
And in the end, Rachel and Faith have the last laugh.
