Lo! At last, the final sacred prophecy of our TV ancestors has come to be. The seas are boiling, the forests are burning, and the spotted lantern flies are a-plaguing, but the gods have not totally forsaken us: The first-ever Golden Bachelor has ascended.
Gerry (pronounced “Gary”) Turner is an active senior, age 71. He’s retired from the restaurant and food-distribution business and loves playing pickleball. He was happily married to his high-school sweetheart, Toni, for 43 years. Together, they had two daughters and two granddaughters. In 2017, weeks after she finally retired, tragedy struck and Toni passed away unexpectedly after a short illness. He isn’t looking for someone to replace her — who could? — but dreams of finding a “second true love.”
In recounting the loss of his wife, Gerry (understandably!) becomes tearful. In the context of the Bachelor franchise and the beyond-all-legal-guidelines extent of emotional microplastics it has leeched into my bloodstream over the years, watching an actual human cry, in an actual human way, about an actual human tragedy, is a little jarring. Is this what the bends feels like?
The Golden Bachelor, a.k.a. the Gatch, is handsome, sweet, and appealingly goofy. It makes me palm-sweating nervous to in any way stake my good reputation and even better taste on a random 70-something white guy whose voting record I have not been privy to, but I like Gerry a lot already. Don’t ruin this for me, pal, or else I’ll have to sit you down and explain what a “milkshake duck” is, which will be exhausting for both of us.
As for the contestants, the casting department for this Muppet Babies-but-the-other-way-around version of The Bachelor really outdid themselves. These women are smart, funny, vibrant, and beautiful — and most refreshingly, they more or less look their ages, which range from 60 to 75. I was fully prepared for Gerry to get set up with 25-year-olds and/or Cassandra from Doctor Who to be wheeled out of the limo. They are also physically unable to stop complimenting each other: “Great hair!” “Gorgeous earrings!” These ladies may not be here to make friends, but they’re certainly not not here to make friends.
Here are some of the most notable future Mrs. Gatch hopefuls:
“Roberta, we made it!” one woman shouts as she climbs out of the limo. This is Ellen, 71, alias Roberta’s Friend. She is here in part to support her lifelong best friend, Roberta (not a figure of her imagination who she believes to be hovering around her at all times, I am happy to report, but a real person), and fellow Bachelor superfan who’s battling cancer. But Roberta’s fri — excuse me, Ellen — is feisty and fun in her own right, a golf and pickleball enthusiast (Gerry’s nonsexual kinks) who believes one should never give up. “You’ve got my attention!” Gerry tells her. In an interview, she declares this “the best day of my life in so long,” and I start crying a little, goddamn it — I should’ve proactively hydrated in anticipation of this episode.
Sandra from Atlanta, a favorite of mine from the preseason promos, does not disappoint — a cutie in her glasses and a red sheath dress (appreciate the free tix to the gun show!), but far less of a shrinking violet than she may appear, as she leads Gerry in a calming breathing exercise centered around softly chanting the word fuck. The mild-mannered cursing enthusiast made a good impression on me, if not necessarily on the Gatch. (At least, not yet! If I’m not mistaken, I spied with my little eye a Gerry-Sandra make-out in the coming-soon clips at the end of the premiere.)
Leslie, 64, is a twice-married choreographer and fitness instructor who claims not only to be an ex-lover of Prince but the inspiration for his song “Sexy Dancer.” That’s one hell of a dating résumé line item. She stumbles out of the limo in a dowdy nightgown, gray wig, and a walker complete with tennis balls on the legs, only to strip down to a 200 percent sexier version of the Jessica McClintock bubble dress I wore to prom in 2006. (This is not a read — at least not of Leslie, who looks amazing, but maybe of 16-year-old me.)
Marina cuts an elegant figure in a sari and says her daughter advised her to tell Gerry that he’s dope.
As someone who is (medically, clinically, concerningly) from New Jersey, I knew immediately that Theresa was also from the Garden State, as her voice and general vibe epigenetically activated something in my DNA. She announces that it’s her birthday and promises to show Gerry her birthday suit — she opens her clothes to flash him, revealing a flesh-colored tube dress underneath. “I didn’t do that!” she says gleefully. “I’ve got six grandsons!” A widow, Theresa lost her husband nine years ago. Later, Gerry presents her with a cupcake complete with a pair of 7-0 candles. The Gatch takes a bite and, at his urging, she kisses frosting off his mouth. This should be absolutely disgusting, but … in context … with these people … it’s kind of cute? Oh God. It’s happened. I’m Gerrypilled. So is Theresa, for the record. It was her first kiss in “forever,” and it felt “incredible.”
With April we meet the closest equivalent to a traditional cast pot-stirrer that The Golden Bachelor has to offer. Glamorous and ever so slightly unhinged, the proud “eccentric” brings the Gatch a basket of eggs (hers are “still very fresh,” she’ll have you know), nominally because she grew up on a chicken farm, but more so because this gimmick allows her multiple opportunities to perform a sexy, ass-smacking chicken dance. (With no disrespect to April and her considerable personal charms, I will note that, when it comes to that choreography, I am using the word sexy generously here.) She gifts him with a calendar of deranged photos of herself — each page reads “April,” and yet the images are nevertheless apparently themed to each month of the year. October, for example, sees her wearing a witch’s hat in front of a spooky castle. I already know I’m going to need much more of this woman than ABC is going to give me.
If you’re reading this without seeing the episode, please join me in a thought exercise: Take all the information I have told you about April so far, close your eyes, and gather your thoughts. Now, answer me this — what is April’s profession?
Reader, the woman is a therapist. I cannot begin to imagine what a delightful, bewildering experience it must be to sit on her couch. If you are one of April’s clients, please, for the love of Gatch, call me anytime day or night for an interview — I don’t think therapist-patient privilege applies in the other direction. (And if you’re out of network, see if she can at least swing you a calendar.)
Kathy in the blue sequined dress spends most of her airtime complaining that everyone else had a more creative limo exit than she did, which is probably exactly how I would behave at the night-one cocktail party. We see you, Kathy, and we appreciate you.
Susan looks like Kris Jenner. So far, respectfully, this seems to be the primary thing to know about Susan.
Faith, 61, is a self-described “fun-monger” who pulls up on a motorcycle and serenades Gerry with an original (I … think?) song on acoustic guitar. It does not hurt her cause that she is also very beautiful. It’s fun how obviously smitten Gerry is, staring at Faith with his already big eyes popping out of their sockets like a cartoon character with a crush. “You’re looking pretty deep right now,” he tells her at one point — I assure you, that sentence makes no sense even in context — which, however old you are, is exactly the kind of weird-ass word salad that your face dispenses in the presence of someone whose butt you wish desperately to touch. Unsurprisingly, Faith wins the first impression rose. They, too, smooch, albeit without the need for any confectioners’ sugar–based mouth lubricant.
I do not know if I have ever seen a man as happy as Gerry is tonight, at least not without the assistance of various substances, legal and otherwise. Every time the limo door opened, he says, it was like “the best Christmas ever.”
“My life got a lot brighter in the last hour or two,” he tells Jesse Palmer (who, to be honest, I forgot existed; hi, Jesse, and sorry for my very specific gap in object permanence regarding you, personally!). He feels multiple connections, with women who have lots of the “intangibles” he’s looking for — by which he mostly seems to mean smiling with their eyes and also being pretty.
All the contestants I spotlighted above survive night one. The first non–first impression rose goes to Ellen’s Friend Roberta’s Friend Ellen; the last goes to Kirkland Signature Jenner. Among those, regrettably, parting ways with us tonight are former (non-Golden) Bachelor Matt James’s mom, Peggy, and Jimmy Kimmel’s wisecracking Aunt Chippy, who was only there to do a bit about snoozing through the early-morning rose ceremony, as an agent of Disney-ABC Television Corporate Synergy Fusion™. (Thank you for your service.)
The later-this-season montage at the end of the premiere warns of dangerous waters ahead — “The only time I’ve ever felt worse in my whole life is when my wife passed away, and this is a goddamn close second,” Gerry shouts at one point, prompted by … I can’t begin to imagine what — but you and I will forge that river together.
In the meantime, I will happily eat this treacle by the fistful. Join me; there’s plenty to go around.
