All The Super Weird Mail You Get If You're The Bachelor Host

Every rose has its thorn.

The Internet has made sharing your name with a famous person a whole lot more interesting, because in cyberspace it's much easier to be mistaken for your namesake.

There's New Yorker Peter Dutton, who keyboard warriors confuse with Australia's Minister for Au Pairs Home Affairs, firing off angry tweets to the former Peter every time the latter Peter does something controversial, which is fairly often.

There's Aussie journo Lauren Ingram, who gets mistaken for conservative US broadcaster Laura Ingraham, and who objects in no uncertain terms.

There's Steve Smith the writer at ESPN, who the Internet wrongly lambasted for tampering with a cricket ball.

And then there's me, Chris Harrison, sleepy, suburban, family man Chris Harrison, constantly mistaken for super celebrity host of the US Bachelor and Bachelorette Chris Harrison.

Despite a photo of me on my website that looks nothing like Chris Har... er, him, (I'm bald as a honey badger, he has a fine head of hair) people still take their angry fingers right on over to my Contact page, where there is another slight giveaway that they have the wrong man in screamy caps: PLEASE NOTE I AM NOT THE HOST OF THE BACHELOR.

That's me on the right. Clearly not Chris Harrison. Well, you know what I mean. But I do accept the rose.

Anyway, my warnings are not enough, and despite not watching the show I am taken for its host. During mating season the messages arrive daily; desperate, revealing, heartfelt, constant...

Some think we need a MILF version:

Some think we need a gay version:

Some ask me to hook up their friends and family with the contestants:

Some question my ethics:

Others are devo when contestants fall for the wrong people:

Some think I need to watch my language:

Some want me to tweak the format:

Some just say random shit:

Some want me to send them money:

Some want to audition for other shows live (I think):

And some just gush:

Each message is different yet each letter is the same, and I don't just mean the fact that they cant f***ing spell.

I've stopped reading them all. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't have time as I'm far too busy cashing the royalty cheques from all the sales of my books to people who buy them thinking they are written by the host of the Bachelor.

Thank you, Chris Harrison. I'll send you a rose.

Contact the author at chrisharris... Actually, don't bother.