Previously in weird marriages: Elizabeth Taylor and most of her husbands. Elvis and Priscilla. Michael and Lisa Marie. Drew Barrymore and that guy whose name even she doesn't remember anymore. Tom Cruise and Mimi Rogers. Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman. Shannen Doherty and that Hamilton she probably beat up. Macauley Culkin and that girl from Guiding Light. The Sound Of Music. Oh, wait -- that last one is "previously in weird marionettes." I'm a little dizzy.
Announcer-Man tells us that "five pairs of perfect strangers are about to take the step in a bold experiment in marriage." He promises us that they will become engaged without ever seeing each other, which I guess is a "bold experiment" in the same way it would be a "bold experiment" to remove your own lungs to see whether you really need them. We are again shown the bizarre Love Forcefield contraption that will allow the ring to be slipped on the woman's finger without the couple's actually seeing each other. There is a strategically-placed hole, you see, in the Love Forcefield. Announcer-Man says that the couples will then spend five weeks on "a secluded estate," engaging in sex and other whimsical icebreakers. "America will witness it all," he intones seriously. And then big red words come up on the screen, saying, "HERE'S WHERE WE ARE." Surprisingly, there is not a map of hell, complete with a little cartoon devil, leaping flames, and a dot labeled "You Are Here." Instead, we are reminded that each of our five contestants was assigned five possible spousal candidates, and that their illustrious peeps then narrowed it down to two, using mysticism, numerology, and in some cases, what seems like it must have been keen resentment over past wrongs. Once the two finalists were announced, the six people actually watching the show were asked to vote by phone to decide which candidate each should marry. Jill will marry either Markus (seems decent) or Kevin (seems like a smarmy little underwear model). Stephen will marry either Denise D. (terrorism made her realize it would be a great idea to marry a stranger) or Denise L. (doesn't see why you can't dance with two guys at the same time, if you see what I'm saying). Billie Jeanne will marry either Tony (proud to have his own hair) or Michael (who?). Jennifer will marry either Xavier ("Frenchie") or Scott (flop-hair). Matt will marry either Sally (unapologetic for past exploits) or Cortez (too dim to remember past exploits, and too boring to have had any).
"Dong! Dong! Dong!" go the chimes of the reality-show chapel. You know, I really wasn't in too much of a traditional wedding mood as the show started, but now that I've heard the chimes, I totally feel the love. In fact, I may have to go get married myself. I'm sure there's someone at a nearby bus stop who would be appropriate. I'll just get my coat.
Egghead stands on the Preoperational Stage (Motto: "Thinking remains surprisingly primitive"), flanked by two dramatically-lit dweebs in suits in the background. In case you don't remember the dweebs -- and let's face it, you probably don't -- Egghead explains that they are Jill's two potential marriage candidates, Markus and Kevin. The introduction of each dweeb is accompanied by a little "dong!" from the wedding chapel chimes. Dong! Dong! They should have showered them with rice, because I am just not getting enough marital symbolism. Garters! Flowers! Toasters! Mini-quiches! Egghead explains that Kevin and Markus have been sequestered for the last two weeks and have had no contact with the outside world. I'm sorry, why would that be? What does sequestration have to do with this? I'm telling you, they created this show by writing concepts related to other reality shows down on slips of paper, putting the slips in a hat, emptying the hat into a blender, adding water, making a paste, and then forgetting what they were going to do with the paste because they're drunk off the straight Jack Daniels they've been drinking in giant gulps for three hours. Egghead tells us that Jill is backstage, where "the last few minutes of her single life are ticking away." They certainly have a knack for that whimsical feeling of impending doom. As he explains it, sure, Jill has had family and a career, but she's never married a complete stranger, so her life hasn't been complete. Oh, won't you please watch as we complete Jill's life?
This show bends time, incidentally. We are only four minutes into it, and I feel like I've been watching it since before I was born. And yet nothing has happened. That baffles me, but I suppose that's because although I own that Stephen Hawking book, I never read it. (Oh, come on. You didn't, either. But don't you feel smarter just having it on your bookshelf?)
Back to the stage, where the audience -- drugged out of its collective mind -- claps appreciatively. Egghead tells us again how Jill's peeps narrowed the field to two. Markus! Kevin! Who will it be? Will the answer to this question arrive before my first Social Security check? (As if there will be Social Security when I get there.) Egghead asks each guy in turn whether he's ready, and they both say yes. The background music -- which consists of an ominous humming that I imagine Fox commissioned during its feasibility study of a televised execution -- continues unabated. "I have something...only one of you...is gonna need," Egghead says, inserting frequent dramatic pauses as directed by the guy in the wings with the stopwatch. He shows the guys an engagement ring, which is all right, but boringly gaudy, if that makes sense. For those of you who are a little slow (although none of you are as slow as he is), Egghead explains that whoever proposes to Jill will make use of this strange, round device with the shiny rocks on it by slipping it onto Jill's finger while proposing. Across the country, millions of goldfish, dogs, and others not versed in human ritual nod their heads, flap their fins, and wag their antennae in appreciation for the explanation.
We go to a split screen of Kevin and Markus as Egghead prepares to announce the results. "America has decided." Egghead stops to think. "The young man proposing to Jill on this stage...tonight." Egghead stops to sound out the word. "Will be." Egghead stops to wave to his mom in the audience. "Kevin." Music: "Rrrrrrrump!" Markus looks disappointed, like, "Man, hookers are expensive! So much for that flat-screen TV." "Markus, take care," Egghead says, by way of compassionate dismissal. Egghead calls Kevin down from the dweeb pedestal to the Preoperational Stage, calling him "buddy," the way guys do when they're really good friends. He asks Kevin how he's feeling. Nervous, Kevin says. Excited, Kevin says. Egghead points out, again for the benefit of the stupid in the crowd, that now that Kevin is standing there in a suit and has a ring, there's only one thing left to do. Of course, Egghead does not mean "run like the wind while you still can," the way I would. He means proposing! Marriage! On this stage! Tonight! On this stage! Right here! Tonight! Egghead throws it to commercial, promising that Kevin and Jill will get engaged when we return. I cannot wait. I'm beginning to think this show is a psychological experiment in delayed gratification.
When we come back, Kevin and Egghead are still standing at the edge of the stage. But before that, more filler! Mmm, filler! Egghead says, "I am required to ask you this question." Ah, yes, "required." Under the California Family Code, section 2210, paragraph (c), "Arranged Television Marriages; Required Disclosures." Egghead goes on to ask Kevin, "You're about to commit to marry Jill. This is a real engagement. Now's your last chance to back out. Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this?" Kevin assures us that he is ready. I think it would have been awesome if he had said, "You know, Sean, now that I think about it, this entire notion is fucking insane, so now I'm thinking maybe I'll skip the whole thing and go back to singles bars," and then left so fast that he made a hunk-shaped hole in the wall. But it is not to be. Instead, Kevin takes his place behind a screen (it basically looks like a floating door) on the stage. The screen is equipped, right about where a doorknob would be, with the Hole of Destiny, which allows the woman to have the ring stuck on her finger without the two of them seeing each other. (Believe me when I tell you, I tried a lot of names before I settled on "the Hole of Destiny." And all of them were patently obscene and would cause this page to come up during very strange Google searches. You just don't write "Ring Hole of Love" without considering the consequences.)
Jill appears at the top of the onstage flight of stairs. "Jill, I have to ask you one question," Egghead says. "Okay," Jill says with a nervous grin. He asks her exactly the question he asked Kevin. Yeah, she's sure, too. After all, why not? She's available this week -- why not get married? She walks down the stairs and toward the privacy screen. Jill, please note, is wearing an extremely ugly white minidress. It has that confining construction where the halter strap continues down the sides of her boobs, and moreover, the discomfort that arrangement suggests is accented by the fact that it looks like her boobs themselves have inflexible metal ribs across them, perhaps made from unbent clothes hangers. It's exceedingly corset-y, without being remotely dignified. Jill makes her way to the screen, and we now see that the screen allows the viewing of each other's silhouettes. So while Kevin can't see Jill, he can now see how she is shaped. She is girl-shaped. Eeeee! Kevin gets down on one knee, and that's when the ravens seem to begin circling in that menacing manner. "Jill?" he says tentatively. Jill puts her hand through the Hole of Destiny, and Kevin takes it. "That's a pretty hand!" he says, by way of introduction. She giggles. "Many a day and many a night have passed through my life wondering when this day might come, and I never imagined it to be like this. But, um, I just want you to know that, uh, that I will be true, and I'll be honest, loving, and very supportive of all your heart's desires." I would have tuned right out at "many a day and many a night," because yuck. Yuck, yuck. "Well, thank you very much," Jill begins to say. "Well, I'm not done yet," Kevin says. She laughs, because that is so funny. In fact, the entire audience laughs, because that is so funny. If you don't find it funny, there's just something wrong with you. Harp music in the background continues. "Typical woman, I think," Kevin says, apparently referring to the interruption. Oh, ho-ho-ho. Gosh, it's really hard to believe he's still single with the charming one-liners and everything, isn't it, girls? He talks some more about the days to come, and the sunrises and the sunsets, and the breakfasts and the dinners, and the toothbrushes and the dental floss, and the extramarital affairs and the heavy drinking, and the ultimate descent into cold conversations broken up only by semi-polite discussions about who's going to have the car fixed and take the kid to karate lessons. Oh, and how this proposal means he is coming to her "with [his] whole heart and soul." Wow, his heart and soul must be really teeny. And finally, the moment is here: "Will you marry me?" he says.
And now it's Jill's turn for a meaningless and rehearsed speech. "That is the sweetest thing!" she says. She talks about how she's thought about this day ever since she was a little girl, and although this isn't quite what she pictured (she thought the screen would be shinier and the audience would be bigger), she thinks he "sound[s] like a great guy" (just the way I think you should feel about your fiancé), and so yes, she'll marry him! Kevin looks relieved, because how embarrassing would it be to be the loser on the worst show ever? "I'm sorry, Kevin, even through a hole, I can tell you're not the guy for me." Of course, that doesn't happen, because they're made for each other. Can you seriously believe how romantic this shit is? Wow. Audience: "Woooo!" The screen slowly (slowly, slowly) rises so that they can meet each other's feet! And then each other's knees! And then each other's...well, you know! And then all of a sudden, they come face to face! They hug. They grin. Surprisingly, they have a kind of boyfriend-girlfriend vibe, or at least a people-on-a-date vibe, which is probably all you can ask for. Jill asks Kevin where he's from as the audience applauds. They hug again excitedly, and it is only now that I notice that Jill has sparkles in her hair. She's sparkly! Because it's so magical! I'm surprised there aren't little cartoon birds fluttering around her. Somebody in post-production totally dropped the ball.
Kevin lifts Jill off her feet as they hug. Because she's teeny! And he's big! And it's meant to be! It's physics! He gives her a little smooch. Because, well, they're engaged, so he can. Egghead comes over and busts in on them. He asks Jill how she's feeling. She just thinks America and her peeps did a great job in picking a guy for her. She tells Kevin that she hopes Scary Anthony wasn't too hard on him. Kevin laughs it off, while silently vowing that Scary Anthony will never again set foot in his home. "Your reign of terror is over, Scary Anthony," he is thinking. "You will never again terrorize my wife Julie...I mean, 'Jill.'"
Anyway, Jill and Kevin talk to Egghead about how overwhelmed they are, blah dee blah, they can't wait to get to know each other, meh. Egghead tells them that tomorrow, they're off to Copper North Ranch, where they'll hang out, get naked, and see whether they're compatible. Just an old-fashioned romance. Jill and Kevin walk off the stage. Bye, Jill and Kevin!
And now it's time to move on to Matt. His two available women are Sally, who is wearing yet another unflatteringly shapeless white mini-dress, and Cortez, who is wearing a white knee-length dress with funny boob-gathers that is equal in the degree to which it is doing nothing for her. You know, I think they bought these dresses at the going-out-of-business sale that the Miss Nebraska pageant organization held after cleaning out its closets. I can easily see fifty or so girls on a stage, wearing all these dresses, singing "I'm So Excited" or "Let's Hear It For The Boy" or something of that sort. Of course, they would be waving glow sticks. Wow, as I look more closely, Cortez's dress even has glitter trim on the boobs. As in, lines of glitter, converging on a keyhole opening in the center of her chest. This is apparently the part of the show where the woman is meant to discover whether the guy will love her if she loses her fashion sense. She also has something very unfortunate going on with her hair. It's sculpted, but not. Ew.
Okay, no more fooling around. Time to marry off Matt. Egghead reads the card, making sure to prolong the suspense and the agony for as long as possible. And...the...person... America...chose...to... marry...Matt...is...Cortez. Cortez? Oh, oy. Like I needed more reasons to hate everyone who votes for things like this. It's totally obvious that Cortez is way too timid and traditional for a guy like Matt. She's going to be overwhelmed by him, and he's going to be bored by her. What are you thinking, people who voted? Whatever. Pardon me for acting like I care for ten seconds. I swear I don't. Sally tries to look disappointed in the outcome, but doesn't really, as she scoots offstage. It's hard to fake "saddened by missing an opportunity" when deep down, you're probably aware that your status is more accurately described as "stupefyingly lucky to dodge that bullet." Cortez walks gracelessly down to meet Egghead. Seriously, when we use the expression "walks like a truck" around here, this is the sort of thing we have in mind. Clomp, clomp, clomp. Poor Cortez. Furthermore, this girl has the worst under-eye bags I have ever seen. She looks like she hasn't slept in a week, which may speak well of her judgment, if it indicates that she has been sitting bolt upright in bed for the last week, listening to a little voice inside her head yelling, "STOP!" I'm sure the Fox executives came in frequently to assure her that it was nothing to worry about -- just voices coming from the television in the room door.
Egghead promises us that when we return from commercial, Matt will emerge and propose. I think I might be drunk by then. There's only so much of this I can take.
When we return, Egghead is still standing on the Preoperative Stage with an uncomfortable Cortez. He tells her that in a moment, she will be sporting a gorgeous ring. But first, he gives her the are-you-sure speech. Is she sure? Is she ready to commit? Or, I guess I should say, "commit"? She says she's sure: "I've been waiting for this moment my whole entire life." She takes her place behind the screen and grins gamely at Egghead's promise that they will now bring out her "future husband." When Matt appears, Egghead asks him the are-you-sure questions. Is he sure? Is he ready to commit? Tragically, it's difficult to concentrate on Matt's answers, what with the way he's sporting that highly Alfalfa-esque hair feature in which a little swirl of hair sticks right up in the middle of his head. It's hypnotizing. He does confirm that he's certain he wants to go through with it. "You have the ring," Egghead says. "You have the girl! You know what to do!" Matt walks down the stairs toward the screen. Cortez grins. Matt reaches the screen, and then he gets down on one knee. Matt tries to be Earthy Normal Guy by opening his speech with an acknowledgement of the bizarre circumstances. And then he says the most remarkable thing to Cortez: "You represent the fantasy." Is that not the most fucked-up thing you ever heard? I mean, just take a moment. Isn't it?
But anyway, there's Matt, and apparently, Cortez playing the role of the fantasy. He tells her, "You are everything I've been waiting to meet in a woman." I'm sorry, how the hell would he know? But no matter -- he proposes. Good idea! She grins and sticks her hand through the Hole of Destiny. She repeats that she's "waited for this all [her] life." She goes on to say, "If you're anything like your family, then I know I'll be safe with you." "Safe"? Man, can't they at least find some contestants who won't drag their incapacitating emotional hang-ups right through the soup in the middle of dinner? I suppose not. Oh, well, time to raise the screen! The screen goes up slowly, and they see each other. And then they hug like they're old friends from summer camp, and you know instantly that this? Is not happening. They engage in extremely awkward small talk. I have to say, I did not truly appreciate the white-hot chemistry of Jill and Kevin until I saw the avert-your-eyes pain of Matt and Cortez. Eventually, as they begin to sink under the waves of "Not" that are threatening to swamp them, Egghead bails them out by approaching. He congratulates them. Matt calls Cortez "gorgeous," which seems like a safe deal. Egghead explains again about the ranch vacation. Matt and Cortez exit the stage uncomfortably.
"Wow, we're doin' this!" Egghead calls out on the stage, in case you've forgotten. "Two of [our couples] have already tied the knot!" he says. Um, Egghead? No. "Tied the knot" means married. I think he has allowed himself to get carried away. Anyway, we see Billie Jeanne backstage, where she is fondling her hair. Her ugly white mini-dress features what appear to be rhinestone-encrusted spaghetti straps. Wow. The dweebs on the stage on this occasion are Tony and Michael. America...has... picked...Tony. Well, he does have his own hair, after all. The funny thing is that Michael almost collapses on the dweeb pedestal. He looks extremely depressed. Does anyone even remember him, or anything he said? I swear, they pulled him in from a McDonald's three minutes before showtime, because I have no memory of Michael. At any rate, Michael appears heartbroken, and honestly, Tony doesn't look any too pleased either. Egghead, however, is ready to move things along. "Michael, you're not the one. It's time for you to go," he says. Wow, that was cold. That was about a step down from "Fuck off, loser." Which, of course, is what I would have said. Tony walks down to meet Egghead on stage and snag the ring. Egghead calls him "buddy" also. Everyone is Egghead's close personal friend. Except, of course, for me.
Golly, it's almost time for Tony to propose! Right after the commercial! Can you honestly hold back your excitement? Wooooo!
Back onstage, the screen has been moved into position. Tony takes his place alongside it, clutching the ring. First, Egghead gives him the "this is a real engagement" speech. Is Tony absolutely positive he really wants to do this? Tony hesitates before answering, as if reason is nipping at the hem of his tux, but he eventually goes with "yes." We can now see Billie Jeanne up at the top of the stairs in her very ugly dress. "Every woman dreams of the moment when a man will ask her to marry him." God.
It is at this moment that I figure out what it is about this whole thing that got so depressing as of this episode. I have, for whatever reason, been unable to get myself in a lather over the mockery they're making of marriage before now, and that's been the case ever since they announced the premise. I mean, yes, it's stupid. And I certainly understand why people who take their own marriages seriously find the whole thing absurd. That's not even getting into the genuinely painful truth that you can spot in the fact that my most excellent friends Mr. and Mr. Tall-And-Beautiful can't get married because neither of them is a girl, and allowing them to get married would tarnish the sacred institution that we have instead reserved for people who are matched by the same process used to vote out Vanessa Olivarez instead of Julia DeMato on American Idol. I mean, honestly, how is it possible that Matt and Cortez can marry each other, and Mr. and Mr. Tall-and-Beautiful, who met in college, fell madly in love, became spectacularly better people once they found each other, got jobs, bought a house, and hold the world's most charming dinner parties are supposed to put a little asterisk after "married," but Matt and Cortez can go right ahead? I mean...yeah, that's enough to chew on for a month. But you know that part.
But in the end, what cuts me about the show itself and what they're doing isn't just the mockery they're making of marriage -- it's the mockery they're making of being single. They bring these people out to supposedly pronounce their loneliness and their longing for attachment to something, and they catapult them into the ritual part -- into the ring, and the speech, and the question-popping, and the white dresses -- suggesting that that is, in and of itself, what single people want. Which is ridiculous, and frankly more insulting to people who are single than it is to people who are married. I mean, is there a fantasy? Hell, yes. That "I'm going to die if I have to go to one more family gathering as the only single person" thing is a real thing. That "Wasn't somebody supposed to appear between college graduation and now?" thing is a real thing, too. But to suggest that the proposal itself is magically filling some kind of hole in these people's lives strikes me as patently absurd. I mean, if I had the ability to order a boy from Boy-In-A-Box and have him show up tomorrow, that really wouldn't solve anything. There's no such thing as something that "every woman dreams of," but even the heterosexual woman's white-dress/tuxedo/diamond-ring fantasy that they think they're appealing to wouldn't exactly be fulfilled by being proposed to by a stranger. There's no fantasy about a stranger, ring or no ring. There's a fantasy about someone cool, who you know, you know?
Whatever. Fuck you, Fox.
Egghead gives Billie Jeanne the are-you-sure speech. She says she's sure. Her dress genuinely is extremely ugly. It's more flowing than the other ones, so at least she doesn't have an ill-fitting straight skirt to contend with, but it's very ugly. She gets to the screen and stands by it. Tony knocks on the screen like it's a door. Billie Jeanne knocks back, idiotically chirping, "Housekeeping! Housekeeping!" Because she thinks that's funny. Bzzzt. "Hello?" Billie Jeanne says. Tony chortles. "Everything okay?" he says. Billie Jeanne sticks her hand through the hole, then pulls it back. Finally, Tony drops to his knee. "Oh my God," Billie Jeanne says. There is a pause. "Are you gonna put your hand through there?" Tony says. The audience: "Ha! Ha! Ha!" Because there's nothing like a slapstick proposal. Billie Jeanne puts her hand through. Tony gives her hand a smooch. Audience: "Woooo!" Tony comments that Billie Jeanne's hand is very soft. "I wore a glove full of Vaseline for a week," she answers. Wow, I'm not touching that one. Write your own joke. Tony says that he's felt like he's been getting closer and closer to the woman of his dreams. He's intrigued by her and her Vaseline hand, and asks her to "come away on an adventure." He eventually gets to the point, and asks her to marry him. I mean, let's face it -- there's really no other way to go when you're already on your knee with a ring. Bailing out is pretty conspicuous. "I've got to tell you," she says, "I'm so nervous I'm gonna throw up." Billie Jeanne is certainly the Goddess of Comedy Setups today. She tells Tony that she believes in truth and honesty and love. And the power of television, presumably. She says she believes he's the right person, so she's going to say...yes! The screen begins to rise. When they see each other, they throw themselves into each other's arms, and again, there seems to be some promise of at least a good date to come out of this, just based on the initial chemistry. Billie Jeanne asks him where he's from, and...man, they already look like they're having trouble keeping their clothes on. Wacky. He tells her he's from Wisconsin. "Oh, yeah, you like cheese?" she asks. Heh. Okay, that was slightly funny. They discuss beer and dogs. For some reason, she tells him to bark like a dog, and he says they'll save that for later. Zoiks. Egghead assures them that they'll have time to get used to all those new feelings they're having. They look seriously...horny. That was rather an unexpected development.
Our contestant is Jennifer. Jennifer's two dweebs occupying the Preoperational Stage are the suave French Xavier and the game but evidently overmatched Scott. America...chose...Xavier. What a shocker that is. Xavier strikes a male-model pose that represents "humbled." Of course, he is not actually humbled, but he had to learn the look when he posed for one of those cologne ads where the guy's girlfriend just left him. Scott dejectedly shuffles off to Buffalo, or wherever. Xavier descends to the stage, where Egghead hands him the ring. After telling him he's no longer single (yet again, Egghead jumps the gun), Egghead, tells him that he's about to meet his future bride, et cetera. up: Xavier meets Jennifer! Man, how close are we to the end? Not close enough.
Back on stage, Xavier stands by the screen, now making use of the expression he learned when he did the spread for Even I Get Nervous!, one of those designer knockoff colognes. Egghead points out that there's a ring and a groom, so obviously, all that's needed is a bride! Jennifer appears at the top of the stairs, so hey, we have a bride! It's a good thing we don't need a relationship or common interests or anything. Predictably, Jennifer's dress is boring and shapeless, just as the other ones were. Whoever picked out these dresses doesn't like the women very much. The music hums suspensefully as she and Xavier stand on opposite sides of the screen. He smolders into the camera, and then drops to his knee. "Well, well, well," he says. She sticks her hand through the Hole of Destiny. "What a bee-yoo-tee-ful hand already!" he exclaims. Oh, please. He says, "As you can imagine, Jenn-ee-fer, I am ex-zdreeemly ner-voos. Zees is like a dream happening to me right now." He talks about how life is full of surprises, like guys you don't know proposing through a hole in the wall. Hey, it happens. "Ah am on mah knee for you!" he Pepe Le Pews. He repeats that he's nervous. "Ah can barely speak!" he continues. "Ah guess destiny and Amer-ee-ca have chosen us to be together," he intones. "And it is our role right now to take over, prove them right, and have one common goal: constant search for happiness." Wow, how romantic. That strategy would work for a marriage or an internet startup. "So, Jenn-ee-fer, my dear, ah have one question for you. Would you marry me?" The Cymbals of Shocking Developments: "Ssshhhhhh-toong!" She is leaning over really, really awkwardly. But she's not uncomfortable at all, we swear! And she swears! Because nothing that's going on is creepy! "I can't wait to start this journey," she says. She says she's "so excited," and "can't even really talk," so she'll just say yes. That might be why I'm not married yet -- because I have to say that I can almost always talk. Hmm. Something to work on.
Anyway, Xavier gives her the ring. Time to raise the screen! They meet and give a little smooch. It occurs to me that they have the chemistry of people who have reluctantly agreed to be set up on a blind date and are trying to be polite about it. He twirls her like they're dancing, in order to show her off to the audience. My, how very retro. It doesn't change the fact that that dress is really unflattering. Jennifer and Xavier chatter a little bit, but it's very, very quiet. They actually wonder out loud where the hell Egghead went, which is not a good sign. On command, Egghead appears. "How are you feelin'?" he asks them. They agree that they feel swell. Just absolutely swell. The fact that they look deathly uncomfortable notwithstanding. Egghead tells them about the upcoming trip to the resort, and manages not to add, "...where you will have to dodge the constant shagging of Tony and Billie Jeanne, on whom we expect to have to turn the hose approximately every thirteen seconds."
Egghead tells us that our last remaining singleton is Stephen, who is locked in his booth awaiting either Denise L. or Denise D. Denise L. is wearing a straight dress with that straight neckline and little corner string-straps that I always think looks like sailboat rigging. She's also wearing a really unfortunate choker. Denise D., on the other hand, is right out of a 1991 prom, in her knee-length taffeta dress and strand of pearls. She also has the half-up, half-down hair. Egghead announces that America's...decision... is...Denise D. Denise D. looks vaguely happy, and Denise L. looks vaguely pissed. As Denise D. walks down to greet Egghead, it becomes clear that the dress doesn't even fit her, even were it an attractive dress, which it isn't. And even if it fit her, it's got the empire waist that appears in "Don't" photos for a girl with a fairly big chest and fairly short legs like she has. Don't get me wrong -- she's a very pretty girl, but this dress is like the Magic Unusual-Proportions-Emphasizer. Egghead points out that she won the popular vote in a walk, by a ratio of nearly three-to-one.
Now Egghead turns to Denise L. -- who you'll recall has been sequestered, and has thus not seen herself in the news this week. "Perhaps America had a problem with your not telling us about posing for Playboy," Egghead says, and Denise L. gives a playful little pouty head-tilt. And then the audience goes "Woo!" and she gives a greasy little thumbs-up. Oh, poor unsuspecting Denise L. Now Egghead says, "But Denise, the show is called Married By America, and you've already been married." Denise L. looks stricken, as the audience mutters "Rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb" in mock-surprise. She tries for a playful shake of the head "no," but Egghead is having none of it. She winks and mouths "Nope," but then she looks at Egghead and shrugs and says, "Okay." He says, "You've been married, and according to our records, you still are." She smiles vacantly, having no clue what to say. "So you have no comment," Egghead says, although I get the sense that was dubbed in later, and what actually happened was that she and Egghead just stared at each other. Finally, he says, "Well, there you have it. The audience had to make their choice; their instinct was right." Nice. He thanks her, and she gets offstage.
A thoroughly upstaged Denise D. is told that when we return, she will be getting "the proposal of a lifetime."
Backstage, some unseen woman confronts Denise L. with her marriage certificate. Denise insists that she and some guy indeed went to Vegas and got married, but that she doesn't consider herself married: "Everybody thinks we're married, because we went to Vegas and did it." So, in other words, everyone thinks she's married, just because she is. The unfairness of it all, really! She goes on: "But I was not married to, like, commitment to me and him, little white picket fence or whatever." Well, that makes sense, because honestly, if you don't care about your marriage, it shouldn't be counted against you. That's a great idea, actually. Talk about eliminating large amounts of the world's adultery and divorce.
When we return, Egghead tells Denise D. that the first words she will hear from Stephen will be a marriage proposal. Stephen appears at the stop of the stairs above the Preoperational Stage, and Egghead asks him if he's really ready. Stephen says he's ready. "Go over there and say the words she wants to hear," Egghead intones. Bleh. The music hums suspensefully as Stephen walks over to the screen. When she sees his shadow, Denise D. predicts six more weeks of celibacy. Oh, no, wait. Actually, when she sees his shadow, Denise D. sticks her hand through the hole obligingly. Romantic! Stephen says he's been waiting for this moment for a long time, and although he didn't have exactly this in mind, he really hopes that he'll like her, since they're agreeing to get married and everything. "So, would you marry me?" Man, even for a fake proposal, that sucked ass. If I were a fake bride on a fake TV show about fake weddings, I would be so turned off. Denise accordingly ignores everything he said (good start to the marriage, huh?), and launches into a speech of her own. "Life is a journey, and I never thought it would take me here, but now that it has, I'm ready to trust the moment and ready to start this adventure with you." So she says yes. Yes! He gives her the ring, and it's time for the screen to rise. Rise, screen, rise! They meet and exchange a little hug-and-kiss. Gosh, they look like cousins. They exchange tiny quantities of small talk, and then they stand there blankly, waiting to be rescued. They exchange "you look great"s, and then there's more standing around. You know, I once was at a wedding where the bride's ex-boyfriend caught the garter, and it wasn't this awkward. (Incidentally, I wound up in a tie for the bouquet -- don't ask -- and had to eventually win it in a three-level elimination round.) They make pretty smiles together, and having shared the major thing they have in common, they stand around some more. Egghead manages to ratchet up the awkwardness by coming up to them and saying he won't interrupt if they want to kiss. Wow, that seems downright sadistic. They stand there, horrified, like the only two single people at a party when they get caught under the mistletoe and have to endure a room full of idiots harassing them. Stephen finally leans over and kisses Denise D. on the cheek. Well, they are engaged, after all. This is no time for shyness. Egghead asks them how the first impressions are, and they both claim to be pleasantly surprised. They are both lying. Denise uses my least favorite expression currently in vogue: "It's all good." Feh.
And now, Egghead reintroduces our couples. Jill and Kevin, Matt and Cortez, Billie Jeanne and Tony (still handling each other), Jennifer and Xavier, and Stephen and Denise. Egghead says, "They came here today as single people, but leave here tonight committed to marriage." Again, Egghead goes on about the ranch. He explains that for the five weeks, they'll live together, and each week, the least compatible couple will be asked to leave. Wait a minute, what? Are they just making up rules now? When we get down to two couples, America (ugh) will vote on which couple is "built to last." That couple will get the car, the money, and -- if they stay married -- a house. I wonder how long "stay together" requires. Egghead says that we will find out whether arranged marriage can work in the "provocative reality episodes of Married By America that begin Monday night." Okay, so they divided it into "pageant episodes" and "reality episodes"? This is so strange. Why didn't they explain any of this at the beginning? What about the fact that of all these couples they just forced to say that they're "committed to marriage," only one of them is actually meant to get married? This is the worst show ever.
Egghead signs off with a dumb-ass little salute. Go away, Egghead.
week, the couples take off for the resort. We see Denise and Stephen in the car, still looking a lot like cousins. Appropriately, Matt and Cortez are seen just as Announcer-Man promises we will see their "first awkward moments together." Xavier promises Jennifer that he is "not your typical French guy." Of course, by week, this will be edited so that he says he's "not your typical freedom guy." We see some affection between Jill and Kevin and Tony and Billie Jeanne, but everyone else looks thoroughly bored with each other. Man, me, too.