Dear Bekah M.,

First off, I am actively rooting for you, as you are one of the coolest contestants to ever be on The Bachelor. But I’ve found that this season and, for lack of a better word, the “storyline” the producers have given you feel very familiar to me. So I wouldn’t call what I want to tell you advice, per se—I don’t claim to know it all, nor do I think my experiences are superior to anybody else’s—but I, and likely many other women, have been in your position. We dated an Arie; we knew him; we cried over him; we sent texts we regret to him (arguably, the only benefit to not having a phone on The Bachelor). And by “an Arie,” I mean the type of man to pull the age card.

Arie views age in a really weird dichotomous way. He fetishizes young women (there is no one above 29 left—he’s 36). He’s also expressed to you that you’re so young, and he is so old, because he likes to get up early. There’s nothing worse when you’re 22, 23, or 24—or any age, really—than being told you’re “so young” and then mansplained how you can’t appreciate things like mornings or marriage. Who are these men to tell you what you can or cannot appreciate? Equally awful is when a prospective partner tries to tell you how to “view” something in order to be “accepted” by him—like this sport, be a “chill” girl, the whole “mold your dream to mine!” logic. The Bachelor enforces the twisted idea that women should shape-shift in order to meet the needs of some lonely man. One of the reasons you’ve emerged a fan favorite is because you clearly subvert those tropes that have been heavily pushed for nearly 16 years; you’re not going to change yourself for Arie.

But the age card is a particularly touchy, irritating, and frustrating thing. It’s literally something you can’t control. When an older guy (as in, older than you, not just, like, Old), uses his age as leverage against you, he likely does it because it makes him feel powerful and authoritative and therefore, somehow right, no matter how gravely wrong he is. Sometimes men do this because they’re intimidated by women and feel that using a concrete number is the only way they can retain power. Sometimes they do it because they want to be in control. It’s an infuriating dynamic.

I know this frustration too well because I’ve been told before that I was so young. In one instance I think it was meant to be an insult, but I found that a ridiculous thing to criticize me for—it wasn’t anything but a fact. You got it, man; how observant and good at calendars you are—I was born later than you! It was tiring to hear it all the time, like my age was something I should be apologizing for, when I had zero control over when I exited my mother’s womb.

Some of these men saw my age as a synonym for disposable—like Arie, they thought they could make the call if I was relationship-ready, which is unnerving. I also remember drunkenly sobbing over these guys, asking why?! Why couldn’t I be anything more? Why was the fact that I was “so young” (even if I was just approximately four years younger than they were) such a deal breaker? Were they right?! They couldn’t be! I was different! I’m independent, I said, I know what I’m doing, I’m mature, I pay rent, I don’t live with my parents…what else do you want from me? To alternate the way the space-time continuum works? And even if I was young, I could be his muse, and if he let me go, the thought of me would haunt his spirit forever because I changed him.

But for all of the songs I wrote while I was writhing in pain, there was one thing I couldn’t see then that I totally see now—and that any woman who has yearned for a man who rejected her can likely see: They weren’t good for me. Actually, they weren’t that great at all. It had nothing to do with their age—not all guys who are older are bad—but someone who pulls the age card is special type of loser. Men who like to tell women they’re young will likely never get over that very normal fact and will always keep saying it; they’ll love that false rush of power they get from pointing it out. That kind of man wouldn’t have been much fun to be in a relationship with. After all, he’s the same guy who makes us feel bad for being the very thing that we are and have no control over. The person who pushes us to spill our emotions in monologue form to “convince” him that we’re right for him.

My point is, Bekah M., that you’re too good for him, or any man like that. You deserve better than someone who mansplains time to you. I said I was “rooting for you,” and by that I mean, I hope you don’t end up with Arie. So if he eliminates this you week, don’t think of it as being eliminated. Think of it as being freed from the trappings of his toxic masculinity and his loud smacking kisses! Also, here is my humble plea for you to come back as The Bachelorette at your discretion.

Sincerely,

Mallory, a Person Who Has Certainly Given Monologues About Her Feelings And Has No Regrets

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