Love her or loathe her (although I don’t know how you could ever loathe the human-equivalent of Bambi), the most fascinating contestant on The Bachelor this year has been Ali. Crazy-eyed, Disney Princess, head-over-heels in love Ali.
She’s an enigma. A scary, perfect-looking, possibly deranged enigma.
Everybody has so many questions about her. Was her trying to kiss him on the first night the real deal? Did she fake that leg injury? Is she actually that pure of heart or is she banging it on for the cameras?
Let me tell you something – she actually is that pure of heart. She came into the Mamamia office for a chat recently, and (besides being petrified that she would hate me for constantly joking about her stealing Tim’s pubic hair for black magic) I was actually shocked at just how lovely the girl is.
Lovely and… genuine. A little too genuine. There is not a shred of irony about her. She actually is just deeply and truly in love with a man who she competed for on national television.
Now, obviously the show is only at the top three, so I couldn’t ask her anything about ‘the winner’. I did try to trick her into telling me how many roses she walked away with, but no luck (although she did tell me that the girls hung their roses upside-down in their bedrooms like bizarre dried-floral trophies).
I can tell you that she was very warm, very friendly and very beautiful. She wore tiny shorts, shiny heels and was still limping from her injured knee.
Oh, and much to my disappointment, she travelled by taxi and not sea plane or catamaran.