The Bachelor: Fantasy? Suh-Weeeet!

Dear Diary,

A lot of men probably don't keep diaries. But I am not like a lot of men. For instance, some men wear undershirts so that you can't see through their dress shirts. Whereas, I choose to let my nipples do the talking.

A lot of men find love at their office, maybe doing local charity work or maybe in church. Not me! I go on television to find my mate. That way, I have actual footage of my many make-out sessions. But, it's like I always say, "to each his own."

But Diary, this past week has really gotten me confused. Would you help me sort out my feelings? Maybe if I write down all the things I am thinking right here on paper then my heart will be able to make the clear cut decisions it needs to.

Here goes...

This week I went on three fantasy dream dates with three beautiful women. Okay, okay, one really beautiful woman. One woman with a really great set of....morals. And another woman with, well, a really great set.

The dates were beyond anything I could have imagined. There were sunsets and rain forests. There were beaches and pirate ships. There were candle lit dinners and picnics. Helicopter rides and did I mention, pirate ships? I know what you're thinking Diary, and I agree: It was so real life. I mean, it just doesn't get any more real than this, ya know what I mean? Once I went on a date with a woman and we spent two hours at a grocery store and then fixed spaghetti while watching Jeopardy. And I remembered thinking, "Really? Who does this? Not real couples. Real couples dive into Caribbean waters and walk into hotel rooms filled with rose petals and pre-drawn bubble baths. I can't be with someone who eats spaghetti!"

We broke it off shortly after. It never would have worked.

I'll be honest Diary, it just wasn't working with Gia. She's beautiful and all. She's also kind and sweet. But I just didn't see her as my wife. I mean, look at her. She doesn't have an eye that wanders to the left every time light hits it like Vienna, so how can I love her? I knew I had to call it off with her and so I did.

But now Diary, its really gotten difficult. I have trouble even explaining what I mean. But I will try.

Do you know those little cartoon illustrations where there is a guy standing there with a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other?

I'm that guy.

I mean, here I stand. In my pilots uniform (because as I once said, "My office is at 30,000 feet" - women love it when I talk like that). And I have an angel with a Betty Boop voice on one side and a she-devil with Paris Hilton's stylist on the other. And I don't know what to do!

Do I choose the woman who agreed to go to the fantasy suite with me even though she never promised anything would happen and told me that she was really uncomfortable in these kinds of situations and she seems to have really great morals?

Or do I choose the woman who walked in, changed into a negligee and closed the bedroom door in my producers face?

Do I choose the woman who told me how excited she was to have a picnic with me because it was the simple things that mean the most?

Or do I choose the woman who made out with me on a pirate ship while 15 crew members looked on from 10 feet away?

Do I choose the woman who makes me think with my head?


Or the one who makes me think not with my head?

Do I choose the woman it would be easy to take home to momma?

Or the one I could use the world "easy" with in almost any sentence?

See my problem Diary?
I don't know whether to choose Laura Ingalls or Paris Hilton.
Sleeping Beauty or Jessica Rabbit.
Any Hilary Duff movie or The House Bunny.

Suffice it to say: my head says one thing, my Dockers say another.

Oh, Diary. You are no help to me at all. What to do, what to do, what to do. Some days I wish I could just run away from this drama and do something less difficult, less stressful, less nerve-wracking; like pay bills, fix a flat tire, drop three kids off a three different activities that begin at exactly the same time, or spend an entire afternoon with in-laws. Ya know? Something less realistic and more "dream like."

I've had enough of these real life situations. I'm headed back to my pirate ship.

See you at 30,000!
Jake