Stilettos and Prune Juice: Jenny Recaps ‘The Golden Bachelorette’ Premiere

We just couldn’t help ourselves.

During the pandemic, many of us took up new hobbies. Some people got very into making sourdough, some taught themselves to speak a new language or play the guitar, and others became experts at putting together jigsaw puzzles. Me? I started watching The Bachelor. 

Hard as it is to believe, I’d never seen a single episode of the long-running reality TV franchise until lockdown, when my daughters convinced me it would be fun to watch together. It was The Bachelorette that season, and Clare Crawley was the oldest-ever Bachelorette, at the advanced age of 39.

“I’m the oldest Bachelorette in history!” she crowed at every opportunity, and sometimes just out of the blue. If we’d made a drinking game out of it, I’d have been on the floor. I was hooked.

Just a few weeks into her run on the show, however, Clare jumped the gun and slept with one of her suitors (a big no-no; you’re supposed to wait until Fantasy Suites night). So much for becoming more mature as you get older. She chose to leave early with him, and another (younger) Bachelorette took her place.

Now, though, ABC has given us our first Golden Bachelorette, 61-year-old Joan Vassos. A widow with four children and three grandchildren, Joan was a contestant on The Golden Bachelor last year, but chose to go home when her daughter was struggling with postpartum depression and needed her mom. Before she left, she and Golden Bachelor Gerry (inexplicably pronounced “Gary”) had hit it off and she was looking like she could win—that is, to get engaged on the show’s finale (if we can call that winning).

Before we go any further, let me just say: I know The Bachelor franchise is bad. The gender stereotyping, the competition and catfighting, the idea that a diamond ring by Neil Lane is the end-all, be-all of romance—it’s bad! But bad TV can be oh-so-good, as we all know. Plus, The Golden Bachelor was surprisingly sweet and genuine, with the women making fart jokes in the mansion and seeming to truly care for one another. It’s fun! And don’t we all need more of that?

Now, with her daughter recovered and presumably thriving, Joan is back at the Malibu mansion and ready to find love again, and I’m ready to watch the drama unfold. Will she have better luck than Gerry, who split from his lady mere months after giving her his final rose and tying the knot on live TV? Will any of the senior men hoping to win Joan’s heart resemble the clowns I’ve dated in my 40s? Will host Jesse Palmer cry? (I love it when Jesse cries.)

I watched the first episode and miraculously stayed awake for the entire two-hour runtime. If you didn’t, here’s what you missed:

As the show opens, “Rainbow” by Kacey Musgraves plays. Damn. Trying to make me cry already. It doesn’t work though; I’m distracted by the multiple pairs of Jimmy Choo stilettos lined up next to the mirror in which Joan is practicing her non-threatening game face as she adjusts her sequined evening gown. All I can think is that I’m only 48 and I swore off high heels years ago, after I twisted my ankle dancing in the club. Now I’ve got arthritis in my knee; I could never. She should wear a comfy pair of sneakers with that dress—something with plenty of cushion and arch support. (I would.)

Joan looks fantastic, however. Glamorous and perfect. And as they show a montage of her with her late husband, John, it’s clear she’s only gotten better with age. In fact, in pictures from the early ’80s, when Joan was in her 20s, she looks older than she does today. It’s the pale, frosted lipstick and helmet hair, I think: Young people in the ’80s looked old! Now she’s got long, flowing blonde locks (expensive, is all I can think) and a vibrant, youthful energy. She says she’s happier than she’s been in a long time; maybe that’s why she looks so good—that and a few injectables.

Her voice breaks as she talks about John, how he made her feel special and safe every day of the 32 years they were married, before he died of pancreatic cancer. As she puts flowers on his grave, she wonders if it’s possible to have two great loves in one lifetime. Only one way to find out! Go on national television and date two dozen men at the same time.

Just kidding—there are 24 men at the top of the episode, but she culls the herd quickly, sending six of them home at the end of the night, which is actually morning, because they keep these poor people up until dawn. I am a decade younger than the youngest of this bunch, and I can’t stay up all night (even in my comfy sneakers). These people really want to find love. 

I’m getting ahead of myself, though. Before the sunrise rose ceremony and teary farewells to those who didn’t get roses, we’ve got to meet the men. This happens in front of the mansion, where Joan is stationed. The limo pulls up to let them out one at a time so they can have a few moments to make a first impression. 

Pascal, 69, is up first, with a ridiculously over-the-top French accent that sounds like the chef from Disney’s Little Mermaid. (“Zut alors! I have missed one!”) He owns a salon in Chicago, and if I had to classify him according to my article on the kinds of men you’ll meet dating, I’d say he’s “The Straight Man.”

These men are hard to nail down, though. One of them shows up in a gleaming white Navy costume—I mean uniform—as if he’s about to captain The Love Boat. His name is Kim, and he looks fully capable of kicking your ass if you say one word about it. Another man gives Joan a jar of homemade chicken noodle soup and says he’ll make it for her family during hometowns. Bold! (Also, he calls it “Chocka Noodle Soup” because his name is Chock. I am only reporting!) Someone else brings shots of prune juice, so that “everything will run very well” by the end of the night. We get it, you’re old!

The hottest guy of the night, in my opinion, is Jonathan, a tattooed single dad who says he was “blindsided” by his divorce. He gets out of the limo wearing a blindfold (really, a satin sleep mask), and says he relates to Joan feeling invisible after her husband died. “Hot Mess” territory? Time will tell. (One of the wisest things my therapist ever said to me is, “It takes a long time to get to know someone.” As in, a lot longer than the six to nine weeks spent filming a season of The Bachelor franchise.)

Jordan, 61, is visibly nervous when he meets Joan, and bonds with the other men afterward as they all talk about how nerve-wracking this process is. To be honest, it’s kind of adorable. And it seems Joan has a thing for adorable: She gives the first impression rose to Keith, a big teddy bear of a man who drove up in a vintage station wagon rather than emerging from the limo.

Inside the mansion, the men are getting to know each other, and in their interviews, they can’t stop gushing. Gary, 65 and the godson of Tina Turner, says there is something special about each of his “newfound brothers.” If you’ve seen this show before, you know this camaraderie is unlikely to last. And thank goodness; why else are we watching? Personally, I can’t wait for the claws to come out.

It’s not happening tonight, though. Before the rose ceremony, Joan and all of her “really special guys” gather ’round to watch videos made by the contestants’ children and other family members. There’s not a dry eye in the mansion as these men take in their loved ones’ messages of encouragement. It’s pretty moving; enough to make me feel bad for mocking them. (A little bit bad, anyway.) This room is full of “World’s Best Dads,” is all I can tell you.

Finally, it’s time to hand out the roses. Like Golden Bachelor Gerry before her, Joan is apprehensive about having to send people home and has to excuse herself halfway through the rose ceremony to regain her composure. Jesse Palmer meets her backstage, asks if she’s okay, and sends her back out there to break some hearts.

The Bachelor producers love to make us think that someone might be going home, when we all know there is no way they’d kick the person in question off just yet, because they make for such entertaining television. This is the case with Jack, a caterer from Chicago who wears a pink jacket, cooks up a feast for everyone, sings “My Way” to Joan when they meet, and says she is “freakin’ hot” (not to her face). He gets the last rose, as we knew he would. Everyone cries, probably because they are exhausted.

Finally, it’s over, and we get previews of what’s to come—not necessarily next week, but over the entire season. (This is another of the producers’ favorite tricks: keep teasing the same over-the-top dramatic clips every week, when they’re not going to happen until the very end. They know what they’re doing!)

We see Joan and her bachelors riding roller coasters, going scuba diving, playing kickball, dancing (the men are going to do a Chippendales-style striptease at some point this season; you’ve been warned), talking about their late spouses, and crying. So much crying. We see Golden Bachelor Gerry back on the scene, asking Joan whether she’s considered the possibility that her guy isn’t at the mansion. Gerry! Are you trying to sneak back in there, my man? 

I am here for it. I’m here for all of it. Maybe this show will convince me to start dating again when I’m in my 60s. It can’t be any worse than dating in my 40s! (Can it?) Wednesdays at 8 pm Eastern, you know where I’ll be until November 13, the night of the big finale. I can’t wait.

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