We had barely recovered from last week's whirlwind The Bachelor finale—an unrepentantly romantic affair which saw Lorenzo Lamas marry off his youngest neglected daughter to a Mary Poppins background player—when the ABC reality TV mating rite began anew. On last night's The Bachelorette premiere, the gender scenario was reversed, with 25 eager-to-wed penis-havers (or at least eager to nab some sweet national airtime plus a chance at nailing a reality semi-star) vying for the attentions of one desirable, not-getting- any-younger- if-you- know-what- we-mean goddess. The lucky lady in question? The Bachelor season 11 finalist DeAnna Pappas, who you might remember as having had her still-beating heart plucked right out of her chest in an episode we like to refer to as Indiana Womack and the Gazebo of Commitmentphobic Doom.

Well, this time, DeAnna's in charge—so watch out, fellas! Unfortunately, she's a complete drip, and watching 25 desperate men enact their bizarre, species-specific mating dances (everything from duck calls, to karate kicks, to special-needs abs exhibition) isn't nearly as entertaining as watching 25 French-manicured bitches punching each other's wombs in a no-rules battle royale for the trophy husband of their dreams. Still, just as we were ready to pack it in and declare this manhunt a washout, who should saunter along but performance-enhancing-drug- and tribal-tattoo-enthusiast Greg, who, eliminated in the first round, promptly liberated himself from the constraints of that evening's formal dress requirements. Greg, you will be missed. Run free with the ca-yotes, our prince among men.