GO THE FUCK AWAY, NICK
Many things fuel me: garlic-filled hummus, my love of Sinead O’Connor, my adoration for Adrian Monk. But nothing fuels me quite like my white-hot hatred of The Bachelor’s Nick Viall. This third-rate Lifetime movie stalker is the Mike Pence of the long-running ABC franchise. While more obvious villains like Jake the Verbally Abusive Pilot, Chad the Frat Bro from the 7th Layer of Hell, and Juan Pablo the Venezuelan Trump embody the role of our Con Man in Chief, this Viall fuck has all the vague Hallmark-esque quotes and manipulative smarm charm of a grownup man who calls his wife “Mother” while attempting to fool people into thinking he’s not toxic and palpably creepy. HE’S NOT FOOLING ME.
He wouldn’t leave Andi alone after she broke up with him and told him not to contact her. He announced on TV, in front of her and her meathead fiancé Josh and an audience of millions, that they “made love,” creating an incredibly awkward situation for her and activating my gag reflex while I was taking a shot of Jameson, which then left a stain on my couch cushion. He weaseled his way onto Kaitlyn’s season WHILE IT WAS ALREADY IN PROGRESS and incurred the dislike of most of the cast, because HE IS AN OPPORTUNISTIC HACK. He is also a manspreader.
He “tried to repair his reputation” on Bachelor in Paradise by seducing the lovely Jen and then dumping her on the beach, leaving her surrounded by candles and gauze scarves straight out of a Michaels clearance sale. I don’t believe he had any serious interest in this genuine and kind woman–-he just wanted to be the next Bachelor. And it worked. HE SUCKS. He sucks so hard that I boycotted his season, even though I’ve been watching this problematically entertaining show for approximately 127 years. I also didn’t tune into Dancing with the Stars so I could avoid watching him cha-cha-stalk the camera around the ballroom floor. And shock of all shocks–-his Neil Lane-sponsored “engagement” recently ended and he’s crawled back out of his Creep Cave® to inflict us with more of his dead-eyed meanderings, this time in a movie starring soap opera actors that I would otherwise enjoy.
This doucherocket to nowhere will not go away. He is the glitter from a camp craft project that’s still stuck to your parents’ windowsill 25 years later. He is a ‘90s telemarketer with an uncanny knack for calling every night at dinner. He is an IRS scammer who somehow got your work number and incessantly insists you owe the government $748.23. He is the guy in this Onion article who thinks the criminal stalking behaviors in rom-coms are romantic, because society keeps telling us this twisted, violently disrespectful bullshit is romantic. It is not, he is not, and I am not buying any of the garbage he sells even if it’s covered in garlic-filled hummus, blasting out The Lion and the Cobra, and brilliantly solving every crime that’s ever been committed in San Francisco. I can turn the TV to another channel when he’s on, or I can turn it off altogether. It doesn’t change that Nick Viall is the symptom of a larger problem. Men like him do not go away because we keep rewarding their behavior by weaving them into the fabric of our pop culture or voting them into the highest positions in our government. And I know I’m not the only one who’s had enough.