So, it’s come to this. You’ve decided to go through The Bachelor application process. You’ve given up on finding love IRL. You’ve given up on having a job—because let’s be real, there aren’t a lot of careers where you can just leave for two months to ~find true love~ and then go back to work. Also, depending on how dramatic and crazy you looked, no one will ever take you seriously in a professional setting again. You’ve given up on having an apartment—because again, two months of not paying rent, and you are out of a place to live.
But it’ll be worth it, you say! You’ll find love, or like, at least Instagram followers.
You’ve got the fake lashes, the blowout, the white eyeliner to sleep in.
So here’s what you do next.
To get onto The Bachelor and have any shot of being the nation’s most beloved sweetheart aka the Bachelorette, there are two options. You can use this application, but let’s be real, they probably get a million of these, and I doubt they read any of them, or you can go to an open casting call.
The first step in the Bachelor application process is to submit a video of yourself answering some questions (that I will discuss in a minute) with the following rules:
- The video needs to be 10-15 minutes long.
- Choose a colorful background.
- Turn off background noise, like the TV.
- Do not wear prints or white or black.
- Do not chew gum.
I am really pleased with these rules, because how many airheads send in 45 minute long videos of them with the TV in the background while they’re chewing gum? What an amazing job these people have, sifting through this bullshit.
But it gets better. Here are the questions you have to answer on camera:
- Name, age, job. Is this is a question? It’s like in the days of AIM, a/s/l? (May have dated myself with that joke. Do you guys know what that means still? Am I old?) It also aggressively states to introduce us to your pets and give us a tour of your home. Like, are they already planning for hometown potential? Can’t imagine the producers would be thrilled to see my tiny apartment overlooking the beautiful broken-down motel outside of which some guy got shot four years ago. But seriously, why don’t hometown dates ever show you where the contestant actually lives? It’s always some relative’s mansion.
- Give us a dating history. Have you ever been in love? Yeah super in love, that’s why I’m broadcasting my desperation on national television.
- Describe your ultimate fantasy date! Do you have a favorite actor/actress? What the fuck, I kid you not, this is one question line. What does having a favorite actor have to do with your Ultimate Fantasy Date? Am I going to be fucking said actor instead of whatever sad Bachelor they picked?
- Tell us about your family—are you close? Do you have any wacky family members? Because that’s first date talk if I’ve ever heard it. Would love to bring up my racist, transphobic great aunt right about now.
- If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go? Because the producers are out of ideas at this point, guys. If you answer with, “I’ve always wanted to go to Des Moines, Iowa—it’s the perfect place to fall in love!” you’re a shoe-in.
- What would your hometown date be like? Realistically, mine would be showing you the spot where that guy got shot.
- Do you have any special talents? If you love to cook, take us into the kitchen and show us what’s for dinner! Ah, yes. Because women must cook to find husbands, they’re trying to push it.
- Finally, get a close-up and a full body shot of yourself. This is very important! In other words, no fatties.
If you do manage to get picked out of this complete dump of crazies applying, you’ll meet with casting directors from there. Otherwise, you can sidestep this process by going directly to an open casting call.
If you go to a casting, you’re supposed to dress slutty and wear heels. Then you stand in line for three hours. Then you go through what’s essentially airport security. I don’t blame them, there are a lot of psychos on these shows—I wouldn’t want to get shanked at work, either. Once you’re finally in, there are cocktails (thank God), donuts (to sabotage the weak), and you fill out a 30-page application that asks you those same questions above about your dating life and whether you can cook. They’re sizing up your wifey or villain potential. They also ask you a bunch of questions straight off of OkCupid, like “What three adjectives would people be surprised to learn about you?” Then, they take you into a room where they make you try on a size 0 gown. If it doesn’t fit, you’re cut.
No, I’m totally kidding, it’s only Miss America that does that shit. But based on how skinny all those contestants are, I’m assuming this happens at some point.
They do make an intern take your picture, which I can only imagine is like school pictures but more awkward, and includes a close-up, body shot, and hand-on-hip pose. We know from the written application that these are very important. Then you wait around for approximately 10 more years. Then you go for your on-camera interview, probably with five other people also having their interviews, where they film and mic you up just to ask you the exact same questions you just answered on the application you just wasted half your life filling out. But I get it, most of these girls are illiterate and your ability to write is not why you’re there. If somehow you’re hot enough, thin enough, dumb enough, or you’re a blonde named Lauren B., you’ll get a callback, and then it’s a quick few weeks before you’re on the show.
Now that you’re totally prepared for what to expect from the Bachelor application process, good luck. I hope you aren’t there to make friends but are there for the right reasons and have a fulfilling and happy career selling laxative tea.
Images: Getty Images; Giphy (3)