"Twuuuu Wuuuuuv!"

I watched the Bachelorette all season, baby.

Let me tell you: the finale was torturous.  Literally torturous.  But!  Emily Maynard, the sweet little southern-drawling belle from Charlotte, North Carolina, was the Bachelorette of the century. 

She was perfect. 

She’s blonde, skinny, and a single-mother with at least one tattoo who has enough self-respect not to sleep with all the guys in the house.  She uses words like “blessed” and phrases like, “God-willing” which makes the Christian sub culture love her.  She’s got a six-year-old daughter, which makes the feminists love her.  She has a few tattoos and just enough mystery that she appeals to a surprising amount of America.  Plus her story is just so crazy, so you immediately empathize with her. 

The season started out with a dose of drama that would entice the most traditional Amish community.  As the season progressed hearts were “broken”, tears were shed by more male models than I’ve ever seen in my life and one little southern belle “dated” 25 men at the same time.  There were spectacular dates, harsh words, breathtaking views of the places visited, and a few cold sores passed around.  As guy after guy got the boot, their emotional rant in their personal interview after the Rose Ceremony went something like, “I’m just so confused.”  Or, “I don’t know what went wrong.” Or, “She’s the love of my life.”  All said with a substantial amount of tears and snot.  Now, this really played to the guys’ advantage because they look sensitive and genuinely heart-broken on national television and they will have a million girls with low self-esteem waiting for them in their hometown airport ready to do anything for a chance at love with this poor, rejected, handsome, heart-broken, booty-call seeking bachelor. 

It was like a car wreck all season.  I couldn’t look away.  There were times when the depth of my soul felt embarrassed and ashamed.  But I didn’t feel embarrassed for the guys.  Heck, they did this to themselves!  Unless they were truly brainwashed by our culture there’s no way they really thought they would ‘find love’ on this nationally televised show. 

No, I felt embarrassed before the Preeminent Father of Love. 

We’ve made love a game.  Love.  We made love a game!  How dare we!?  Love was first shown to us by our Father.  How dare we make a show of it.  How dare we abuse it.  How dare we profit from it.

My embarrassment came with a certain level of conviction.  Isn’t there something I can do to show believers and unbelievers alike that I try to love to the best of my ability; to show them that I won’t make love a joke. 

I want people to think of me, “She loves well because the Father first loved her.”

I hope Emily Maynard is in love with Jef.  I hope he’s a good step-dad for Ricki.  I hope they make it work.  I hope they commit.  But more than those things, I hope Emily Maynard finds true love.  I hope she encounters the love of a Father who will never leave her, never forsake her, and never fail her. 

I hope Emily finds the truest love possible.