Duke, will you accept this rose?

I have a really, really good idea.

I’m not what you would call a girly girl. I’m oft described as a “bro,” and friends have guessed at the length of my (giant) figurative penis. So it took until this Spring break for me to discover “The Bachelor.” After extensive Wikipedia searching and estrogen injections, I think I understand the premise. And I have an idea that will finally earn me enough money to build an island in Dubai and genetically engineer a red panda/baby otter hybrid. It is the number one best idea in the history of ideas. Or number two, flanked by “Tailgates on Central 2012” and “Let’s NOT go to Devine’s and just hang out without paying instead.” My idea is a new TV show: “The Bachelor: Duke University.”

So here’s how it goes down. First, we have to find Duke’s hottest bachelor. This could be difficult. As much complaint as there is about the girls at Duke, the guys aren’t much to write home about—or tweet or pin or whatever the cool kids are doing these days. I guess we’re just an unattractive bunch of people. After narrowing it down to Duke’s top 40 bachelors (and then making sure they’re into women, taking about 75 percent of Duke’s hottest sexyboythangs off the market), we could probably choose by making the potential bachelors live in a tent for months, so as to keep with tradition. The incentive: sexy ladies, and a reward that almost all Duke students want, like a job at Goldman Sachs or the answer key to the MCAT.

Then we need 20 Duke bachelorettes. This should be as easy as finding a Friday 3 a.m. Domino’s binge. Just follow the sounds of “Boys here are just so lame! I wish there was a way we could meet new people!!” Give those bes the Duke Bachelor. Bes love “The Bachelor.”

The show would start off with Duke-style dates so the ladies can meet the Bachelor in a comfortable setting. I recommend the Loop (so he can pay on food points) and study-sex. Now I don’t really know how “The Bachelor” normally goes down, but I imagine it’s something like “Legends of the Hidden Temple,” minus the terrifying temple guards. The challenges would measure contestants’ college girlfriend skills, like carrying the dead weight of a drunk boy across campus, avoiding roommates and snagging the correct boy toy at Shooters. (Also known as “how well can you identify a person by the shape of their gyrating pelvis against your butt?”) I’d also like to try to incorporate sumo wrestling. Maybe not.

As the number of remaining girls dwindles, things will get fancier. As I understand it, “The Bachelor” takes its final contestants on some sort of fantasy getaway. I figure the WaDuke is good enough. Charlene will whisk the contestants away in Durham’s safest rides to an amazing private weekend with the boy they now love oodles, somehow looking beyond his simultaneous relationships with four other girls. Whatever, Mormonism seems legit.

Then there is the discussion panel, where all the former contestants come back and complain about the remaining two candidates. They’ll discuss how Lauren is one of those girls who is only nice to boys and how Maria has a third nipple or whatever spiteful biddies talk about when they get together. This will obviously be my favorite part. In order to make it especially catty, I’m going to lace everyone’s drinks with Four Loko. Nothing gets ladies riled up like heart palpitations. I’ll just sit back and watch the caffeine/alcohol-infused b****fest ensue, occasionally yelling about how Sophie OBVIOUSLY wore that dress better than Kate and how Jen is a backstabbing, slut-faced hoebag. In the eloquent words of Lil Jon: It’s about to be a—WHAT?! GIRL-FIIIIGHT!

But who will receive the final Duke Bachelor rose (which obviously takes the form of a bag of bin candy or a not-Crat handle)? After considering the reputation of each girl’s sorority, a few drunken emotional breakdowns and a frank discussion of blowjob ability, the decision is made. It is then that the Duke Bachelor proposes to his Bachelorette and they become a “thing” for a few months before it becomes an emotionless bore and awkwardly “fizzles.”