This really blows. No, I do not accept this rose.

I've always been fascinated by "The Bachelor" as social commentary. Who are these women who are dating the same man as 24 other beautiful girls, when not given a rose after a 30-second encounter, cry on camera in utter shock? Really? There were 24 other hot chicks and you thought your split-second meeting was meaningful? That's why so many of them make really poor first impressions. They're so afraid Andy/Aaron/Alan/Alex won't remember them come thorn time, they get drunk/talk about feet/boil a rabbit and get shut in the limo, their dreams of falling in love while the world watches dashed.

Granted, that show flies in the face of feminism. What self-respecting woman would subject herself to that cattle call? Most of us get rejected enough on our own when the men in our lives are only dating one or two other people. And then you're pretty much alone in your rejection. Ocassionally there's a waiter who witnesses your shame, but he'll usually avert his eyes and pretend not to notice that the boy can't wait to get out of there and on to his next victim. I don't think I want to be the girl less attractive than 20 other women while my grandmother and first grade teacher watch. With popcorn. Humiliation: film at 11.

My 84-year-old grandmother is obsessed with the show. She and her spry 82-year-old sister watch it faithfully, then call early the next day to discuss the rose ceremony. A few months ago, before the last couple got engaged and subsequently broke up, she was discussing the show with me. (Sidenote: three years ago I met Andy Baldwin at Pearl Harbor, found out Tessa was going to win, and told her before the finale. Now she thinks I've got Bachelor clairvoyancy.)

She says to me, "You think it's terrible that I watch that, don't you?" I responded that while I watched trashier shows than that (read The Hills), I just don't get the Bachelor appeal. Further, I said, "I'm surprised you like that show. Doesn't it bother you that he's sleeping with all of those women at the same time?"

"Not all of 'em," she replied. "Just three."

People, how desensitized has this show made us that my Baptist church preacher's wife grandmother thinks that three concurrent intimate relationships is appropriate? The sky is falling, chicken little.

The reason for this rant is because I've been thinking today about the value of the one-on-one date versus the group date on that show. One-on-one time is better, right?

So why am I so bummed to find out that LB can't come to my birthday party next week? Sure, I get that it's a mandatory work thing and I get that he feels really, really bad about it, but it makes me sad. Consolation is that I get a private dinner instead, but it somehow seems tainted now. Rather than dinner and dancing on a Friday night with all of our friends, I get Tuesday night after work. But at least I'll still be 36 for that outing.

This never happened when I was dating mechanics.

I told him that next time I'd try to be born on a more convenient day for him. Then I let him off the hook. This had better be the most dramatic Tuesday ever, Chris Harrison.