I’m kind of a gigantic television addict. It’s hard to fit in a decent amount TV-watching everyday in between taking care of two Nickelodeon-addled children and holding down these sick housekeeping skills, but I manage. A soap opera while washing the dishes, maybe some Dr. Phil while folding the laundry if the kids are busy enough, prime time shows when they finally drift off, and if I’m still up, a little Conan before my own bedtime.
I’ve never been a fan of The Bachelor before. Although it’s in its bajillionth season and I am surely no stranger to a good trashy reality show every now and then (A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, anyone?), I just never tuned in for some reason. Well, good news, folks . I’m finally on board with this uber-cheesy documented mockery of people “looking for love.” And I? Am hooked.
FYI, I know it’s all crap. I know these women can’t possibly ALL just fall head over heels for this vapid cardboard cut-out of a man the very moment they lay eyes on him, nor is it realistic that 30 extremely hot, young, single chicks are willing to spend every waking moment duking it out solely for the purpose of gaining some random cute stranger’s undying love and affection. But we all know people will do ANYTHING to get on a reality show, so I’ll allow myself the usual suspension of disbelief (the same one I use when a soap opera villain rises from the dead after undergoing his third secret brain transplant in less than a decade). It’s all in good fun, right? Well, it is for us viewers, anyway. As for the contestants? I think they usually fit into one of the following three categories (in descending order): they are trying to kick start a career as a model/actress/singer/psychotherapist; they are a little (or a lot) nuts; or they actually think they are going to get a husband at the end. There is obviously a bit of overlapping with the latter two.
That being said, I’m loving this show. Bring on the Bachelorette!