I want to be on the next Bachelor TV show.

Yes, I am past my twenties by a wee bit and, yes, I am long married and have teenagers, but I still want to be on the show.

Here’s why:

I want to travel.  During this Bachelor season the gang has flown all over the place: Costa Rica, Utah, Switzerland, Belize. I want to visit the world, too. Costco is getting boring for me as a vacation destination.

I want new evening gowns. I have never had an evening gown. I want one. I want a long, slinky, strapless dress that will come with a girdle and an in-built push up bra to help the girls stand at attention and my stomach to stand down.

I want cool high heels. I have brown and black heels, nothing special, just functioning. I want fancy red shoes. Faux leopard skin. Gold sparkly things.

I want a stylist to do my hair and make up.  I want a free hair cut and highlight. I want someone to help me figure out how to put on eye shadow without it smearing or creating a third eye on my eye lids. I want a lipstick that shines like the dickens.

I want to have adventures, like jumping off boats into clear emerald – colored water, swimming in lagoons, and snorkeling with bright colored fish and snappy turtles.

I want to be able to sleep in when the other girls are out on their dates, or use the pool to play dolphin and the hot tub to soak my bones.

Yes, I want to be on The Bachelor.

I don’t want the man. I got me a man.

I don’t even want to talk to The Bachelor. The other ladies can talk to him about piddly topics. I just want the free, artful gourmet food and the free time to read and daydream.

Besides, I am still waiting for the producers to put up a bachelor who is intelligent, thoughtful, introspective, engaged in life, funny, and not a dull idiot with a brain the size of an ant’s buttocks.

Ben, the current bachelor, has one of the flattest personalities I have ever seen on any man.  I understand there are cameras pointed at him, I get it. That’s tough and smothering.

But I don’t think anything of depth or interest has ever popped out of that man’s mouth.

I am waiting for a sense of humor, for wittiness, for an ability to connect on any level at all. I am waiting for manly man characteristics, romantic characteristics, captivating characteristics.  I am waiting for emotion, and I see none.

None – ola.

Everything he utters appears to be part of a script that the director has told him to say and he can barely remember his lines, but is struggling real hard to do so.  (Can you imagine? I thought these reality shows were based in truth, not scripts!)

So I sit back and watch this ridiculous show, inhaling my chocolate chip cookies, and wonder why on Earth these young women, many of whom seem smart, fun, sincere, and funny (okay, there are a couple of crazy- ass gals, too), would be interested in this guy. What is there that attracts them?

Or, do they simply want to stay on the show longer for more moon – lit trips to fantastic destinations, more sleek evening gowns with push up bras, more snorkeling with snappy turtles and free food?

I get it, ladies, I get it! I’d love to go to the snowy alps in Switzerland, too. You go, girls!

I wonder why I watch the show. What is wrong with me? Don’t I have a life?

Maybe I don’t.

But back to my Bachelor application:

Here is what qualifies me:

I was once in my twenties.

I am female.

Tune in to see me next season!