Tila Tequila: Battle of the Sexes (The Fantasy Episode)

Tila, sweetheart, night-blooming jasmine of our love, how disappointed we were that you extended your show’s run by another week. We knew that you were a master of suspense, a sensei in the art of the tease, a certified Ph.D in the prolonging of climax, but we were ill-prepared by how empty our lives would feel, not knowing whether or not you would choose Dani or Bobby to become your paramour for yet another seven days. And so, our hands clasped behind our heads, our breath deep, slow and somnolent, we lay in bed and fantasized about what you could possibly have in store for your firefighting sweetheart and your film-student pookie-kins. In short, this is our dream episode of A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila, one which will never air. But in our dreams, in the visions of you that spring so readily to the fore of our minds during the bewitching hours after-dark, we realized an essential truth about the nature of your contestants. Sometimes, the masculine is the feminine . . . and vice-versa. How bizarre.

In our dreams, you began your latest episode back in the sprawling Tequila Manse, refreshed and slightly sunburnt from your escapades in Cancun. Because California nights are so cold, and because their enormous bed was so empty, devoid of all the other contestants, Bobby and Dani had huddled together for warmth and friendship. Becoming the best of frenemies had suited them, and it was seeing them then that you had your most brilliant flash of inspiration.

Battle of the sexes.

Not, say, in the ancient feudal sense, where men would work as indentured slaves to toil the earth and women would churn butter dressed in what we assume was sackcloth because it looks so itchy. No, we were considering a much more modern state of affairs in which you would test your contestants’ patience and will-power. At first, you explained your challenge would be an examination of Dani and Bobby’s fortitude. You had DVR’d an entire season of The Hills and told them that they were to watch the whole recording without moving from their seats or expressing a single word — not even a simple, “God, will Heidi please break up with Spencer already!!!” The first person to break those rules would lose, and you would take the winner on a date to a Brent Bolthouse-owned Hollywood hotspot, where you would engage in long looks off-camera and stilted, uncomfortable dialogue.

Bobby and Dani were horrified.

But you were only kidding, weren’t you, darling? No, your real challenge was set when you explained that each of them would enjoy a date, that evening, with you. To facilitate such happy times, each of them had to explore both their feminine and masculine sides. For the former, you explained that each would be given a credit card with an unlimited balance with which to purchase attire for you to wear that evening. The more Tila-appropriate the clothing, the better. “I want you guys to be creative!” you shouted. “I want to see some sexy stuff in there! Don’t skimp on the glitter!”

Bobby rubbed his hands with glee. And a look of terrified sorrow crossed Dani’s brow. Shopping, as conventional wisdom would hold it, is normally the province of women, but Bobby took to it like a fish to water. In no short order, he drove to the Hustler Store, Frederick’s of Hollywood and the House of Whacks, and bought supplies to spare. Our favorites? The panties that read “Vajayjay Is Otay!,” “Feels Like Home,” and the classic “Live to Ride, Ride to Live” (which we couldn’t help but feel had a subtle but inherent right-to-life connotation, but we digress). That’s to say nothing of the chips, dip, chains and whips, and the acres of latex he stuffed into his trunk. What, precisely, was he going to do with those clear lucite balls? We had our suspicions.

Dani, in the meantime, was as lost as a lonely three-year-old at the Mall of America at the peak of Black Friday. She thought, and thought, and thought, and eventually drove herself down to Melrose where she scoured every vintage store she could find, looking for what appeared to be the perfect Carhart work chemise. Alas, the best she could come up with were some old flannel numbers, cut-off shorts, a sheepskin-lined denim vest with an Iron Maiden iron-on on the back, and a pair of ratty plaid Converse. Dani, it seems, has no radar for style, since it was obvious that every item she selected looked like it smelled like old cat farts. Knowing her trip was a failure, and having psyched herself out in the extreme, she hightailed it to a specialty store, where she acquired Mango Glitter Body Butter and a Chocolate and Vanilla Body Painting kit. Then she, like Bobby, sped back to the mansion.

Tila, you were disappointed in Dani’s selections, but curiously intrigued by Bobby’s. (This surprised no one, least of all us.) You said you would be happy to wear whatever your lovers returned with, but your wrinkled button nose and downcast eyes told a very different tale indeed. It was then that you tendered the second part of your test. You explained to Dani and Bobby that the dates would occur in the finely appointed living room of the Tequila Estate, where you would enjoy their company on the bear-skin rug (replete with the head of a real bear) in front of the enormous fireplace. The rub? There was, as yet, no fire burning — no smoking embers nor crackling logs to soundtrack an evening of excessive touching. You explained that each contestant would have half an hour to hew the logs the producers had set up outside; the winner of the wood-chopping contestant would get to enjoy the second date of the evening, and thus be the one most likely to spend the night.

Dani whooped with joy. Overly confident, Bobby raised his arms in pre-emptive victory and told you, and the world, how chopping wood was one of his upstate New York specialties. But the proof, as they say, was in the pudding. When they took up their axes outside, Dani made mincemeat of her logs. She became a cleaving machine. She looked like Paul Bunyan out there, her well-muscled arms glistening with exertion, her cheeks ruddy and eyes lit from within as if by some secret blaze. Bobby, however, looked as though he were about to cry. As soon as he landed his axe in a log, it got stuck, and he couldn’t get it out. The final tally was an embarrassment for the men: Dani split 70 logs to Bobby’s 2. A sad day for Bobby’s testosterone levels.

You expressed your happiness over Dani’s success, but told your remaining two that since both were so equally matched — Bobby’s achievement in shopping being correlative to Dani’s skill at chopping, somehow — that neither would be going home that evening. The elimination having been put off, everyone relaxed. Bobby amused you over dinner with his tales of porn-shop salespeople; later on, Dani painted you in chocolate and threw you into a kiddie pool. This is how it’s done chez Tequila.

Now let’s get on with it. Can you please get to the next episode and choose Dani, already? Dreams like these are keeping us up at night, and we’re not at our best during the workday. We blame you, Tila. We blame you.

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