More to Love: A Review

Down the red runway they came, clutching their handbags and flipping the hair away from their faces self-consciously. The fat women of "More to Love" were looking to get hitched, preferably tonight, and preferably to the fat man at the end of the runway. They cried to the cameramen about their terrible dating lives, their nights spent watching skinny bitchez get the men they deserve, and affirmed that they were "ready! right now! for love!" This moment will never happen again, they said, they will never have the opportunity to meet another person ever in their lives, it was now or never, never ever, just now, on camera, to-night, just this moment, a moment like this, never again.

And they were talented, and deserved of our attention, and this was very important to clear up in the beginning, just so we don't get the wrong idea and think these women were in-any-way-average. Why, one could even speak in Spanish, but only sort of, and another knew how to jump and straddle her legs and foist herself into a lighted pool. Yet another was an excellent shit talker and could shit talk a storm about that woman who just wants to foists herself into pools. There was also a nanny, a waitress, a teacher, and a...rocket scientist?

"Yes, I'm a, UHMMMMMM, rocket scientist" this woman said to blonde man. "Wow!" he exclaimed, but then she looks scared, like her chances had been dashed. "I hope that's not toooo scaryforyou!" "I'm actually a garbagewoman," she wanted to say, but it was too late, her five seconds were up, her time in front of America had expired, and she was the weakest link, goodbye.

"What will happen to these women?" we're forced to inquire. Will blonde fat man just pick the skinniest one? "What is he looking for?" the fat women cry. It's all just so terribly scarily unclear. And there will never, ever be another time for love except tonight, right now, in front of the cameras, where all can see every rumple, every tear, every wispy hair, every nervous, jittery movement. Because love is not about any of the things we think it is, it's actually about projecting your emotions on stage, and revealing your battered soul to an anonymous audience of millions, and begging them for acceptance. And it's not love unless this man says the feeling is mutual, and is willing to kiss you beneath a palm tree, in front of a lighted pool.