I love the Bachelor. Not him, exactly, this short, dark, and handsome fella with the requisite dimples. It’s the idea of him, of the glory of love, the sweeping off feet and the ring on the appropriate finger. It’s walking down the aisle before you have bat wings. It’s the hope that you won’t have anything related to Jordan almonds in your wedding repertoire. That you’ll be able to use all you’ve learned in your 20s, all the ridiculous hookups that meant close to nothing and every gut instinct you were afforded by the universe that told you to run. The one that told you to sprint, not passing Go, without his number or his name or even your tiniest of clothing. It’s the dream all girls have, not of their wedding day and that awful, horrid updo, but of the ever after.
The show is this and a spectacle, of course, one at which I can’t stop gawking. On how many of your dates do you massage his back, in string bikini, at a waterfront condo in New Zealand? It’s safe to say zero. This is a compartmentalized fantasy, after all, one for the cameras, one intended only for ratings. Real life is mostly outtakes. Singletons know the world of dating exists in pints of Guinness, checking your cell to make sure he isn’t 10 minutes late, wondering if you can cure him of his addiction to flannel. Things aren’t as pretty, or neat, or bookended by colorful commercials. Mascara runs when you dare enter the hot tub. First forays into sex go terribly wrong, as they’re prone to doing, whether because of a curious feline or a mother’s phone call. Real life is sloppy and loose and gloriously unscripted. We’re all more Bridget Jones than we are Angelina, and deep down we know it.
What’s lovely about these ridiculous productions is their ability to make us believe. It exists, Virginia, this love and life for which you search. You aren’t doomed like your mother promised, unlikely to succeed as dictated by a senior superlative. You’re more than that, and if this Allstate representative from Peoria can do it, so can you. People do find one another and connect on a level few seem to achieve, warts and stretch marks and Dungeons and Dragons be damned. It matters not that it’s sewn together via multiple cameras and an intern’s long hours in the editing suite. It exists, as certainly as Santas and hangovers and unplanned pregnancies. It’s within your reach, sweet girl. Just down the road. Because as well you know, you deserve nothing less. And your audience genuinely believes so.
21 Comments
Did you watch the After the Rose last night (ugh, it’s killing me to admit all this– I swear I only watched two episodes this season)? Because SPOILER the Bachelor dumped the girl he had proposed to and asked the first runner-up to give it a go because he realized he had made a mistake. Seriously. I feel like THIS is the closest the Bachelor can ever come to imitating the bad decisions, broken hearts, and regrets of real life.
I wrote this before he made a complete ASSHAT OF SELF. Rat bastard. Also? Murr.
Kris, my blogher friend…. how much of yourself do you define by whether or not you have a man in your life?
BTW – I got played last weekend by a beautiful, sexy and fun lady. It was a phenom first date – the kind of date you would have spent 5000 words on in a post. Then, the email on Monday. “I like to paint the town red and we certainly did. You are a fantastic kisser and a great man, Trapped, but I want to keep dating so I am not going to date you anymore.” I have done the proverbial “dusting myself off and gotten back in the game” but I’m getting tired of doing that. My hands are filthy.
Peace
This crap is why I don’t watch TV anymore. But movies? Movies get it… all wrong too.
What we need is a REAL reality show. The one where you get up 10 minutes before he does so you can brush your teeth and apply makeup before crawling back in to bed — just until he says he loves you. Then it’s back to morning breath and eye crud.
That I’d watch.
Bachelor is one of those things that I attempt not to watch while wifey moans over it in the corner — “But she’s not RIGHT for him, god! Why can’t he see it?” Alas for the ability of sound waves to be omni-directional; it sucks me in at least in part simply because it fills the living room with its giggles and the pretentious dick of an announcer.
So all this being said, the train wreck that I cannot help but be a part of despite the better sections of my mind reminding me that this is FILTH CONTENT, I think he made himself into a complete and total jackass last night and I was astounded at the sheer prick-ness of his dump-and-switch move. Incredible. I’d completely date Melissa given the chance (although wifey would object, I suspect).
As far as the bachelorette of this blog, well…we’re all in the audience and yes, we’re cheering and hoping for your whisking away at some point. We all figure it’s just building up to a slamming climax right now (and not the kind you’re thinking of).
Yeah, what was he thinking? Did he have to do the whole not making up his mind in such a public way? He couldn’t way to do it until the cameras had stopped rolling the way other Bachelors have done in the past?!
I really liked how you wrote this. I think you captured the essence of reality television. Many people mock it, but I harbor a (not so) secret love for it simply because of what you wrote in that last paragraph. Sure, it’s not happening in real life, but it’s happening in somebody’s life. So maybe it could happen to me.
At the risk of being bum-rushed and trampled by a spikey flock of DSW pumps, I have to say that The Bachelor is (one of) the reason(s) I own earplugs and subscribe to 199 other channels. That you, dear Wino, devote time that could otherwise be spent reading books or working part time waxing backs in a Russian day-spa to bathing your fine, capable mind in this ridiculous pap is beyond me — you know this. Pardon me while I sponge the vomit from my sweater.
That said, you write about this, as about most things, eloquently and a hauntingly well. I shudder inside and reach for the Pepto as I write it, but I think this as well has the makings of a longer essay about hope, yearning, etc. Please write it quickly, though, as these sort of bread + circuses are — as I know you know I believe — sure signs of the end of our times. I’d hate to have to read it in Chinese translation.
With love, I am as ever your snobby friend,
K of M
I always forget how many of these reality show romances work out.
There’s enough pressure without the cameras.
Or the inlaws.
This made me want to watch the Bachelor. And drink whiskey with you.
This show’s got nothing on Bret Michael’s “Rock of Love”…
I watched the Bachelor and the After the Rose show (thankfully this is anonymous) and sat there in disbelief as Jason illustrated how low men can go. This was quickly followed by the woman he first dumped agreeing to see him again. But then it wouldn’t be a reality show otherwise.
I’m completely addicted too, but it is a sucky show. And he needs to stop crying. Seriously.
I think Monkey King said it best—certainly better than anything I would try to say. Haunting is a great word for the way you write–and I want to spend hours in your words and have sticky notes of hurriedly written things(hurried so I can keep reading) all over that remind me how to turn a phrase properly. I HATE that I watch it–but I do. And because I make so many noises and giggles my roommate gets sucked into at least listen to my summary of what is going on and agrees–the Bachelor needs to stop CRYING….man up boy!
k-
“gloriously unscripted” – a complete summation of my life, because seriously, who can make this stuff up? as for mr. bachelor? i’ve never seen an episode, don’t plan on starting. i have no need for reality tv. i have plenty of reality in my own world.
Watching the Bachelor this season made me happy to be single. Please let me never be so desperate for the ‘fairy tale’ that I bounce with glee at being picked second by a guy who can’t stop crying or make up is mind.
I wish we’d had a Bachelor viewing party, you and I. Cocktails with you would have made the three hours wasted on that bastard easier to swallow.
What you speak is truth, girl! In some weird way, I feel like I may have already doomed myself to a life of disappointment. Funny that being too much the romantic is going to keep me single forever. I just can’t give up the hollywood ending. Basically, I feel you.
As realistically ridiculous as the idea may be, I don’t think any believer in true love ever outgrows the lies Disney movies sold to us as children.
Thank God for stuff like “Closer” eh? LOL
i’ve been too busy rotting my brain with millionaire matchmaker…..
talk about the opposite of love.
I actually think that what you’ve said here speaks to why people are so pissed about this season’s outcome–Jason’s behaviour absolutely violates the illusion the show spends all season building. Yay, you get the fairy tale. . .for six weeks. And then I’m going to run off with that skank with too much eyeliner.
Your writing and the truth it taps in to never fails to blow me away.