The first time “The Bachelorette” autoplayed into my life in 2013, I knew I was a goner. I had not sought out this show. It had chosen me, delivered by the whim of a Hulu algorithm and ensnaring me in its rosy grasp. As soon as I had begun watching the gentle-souled Desiree Hartsock set out in her quest to find The One, I was hooked.
