Must stop it...

I keep telling myself 'Don’t do it. It’s madness. Why are you doing this? You can break this cycle.' And yet – I found myself this arvo in front of the television, sewing something – yes, remember when people knew how to sew – and I was yelling at an old episode of The Bachelor when Sean gave that trashy bag Tierra a rose and it made her safe from elimination. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled at him. There was no response because it’s TV. Duh. I don’t know why I get hooked on the Bachelor. It’s reality TV for god sake. Its simulated people in simulated situations that are designed to be mindless viewing for the masses…oh...right. That’s why.

    

Maybe...

So I mentioned my train-wreck-like fascination in watching The Bachelor. It’s a repeat from 2009 and it features a bloke called Jason and a dozen women who all declare they are falling in love with him. Hmmm, I don’t think so and the word ‘desperation’ comes to mind. While I believe women are genetically programmed to be in love, I do think some fall in love because they want to be in love and in a couple so badly they make themselves believe it. Despite being the cynic I am, I look at these women and think how maybe we all want to believe that true love can be found on TV. Can it? I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I watch. Maybe I like train wrecks. Maybe I want to be less a jaded soul. Maybe that’s why we read romance books. Maybe we want to believe the hero will be so besotted with the plain/frumpy/overweight/skinny/too intelligent heroine that he will overcome any obstacle or objection to be with her. Maybe the things we want for ourselves are mirrored in what we watch and read. Maybe it’s safer to be a spectator. Maybe I need to go cold turkey on The Bachelor. Maybe…

The Bachelor...

It’s Sunday in Oz and that means at around 4:30pm-ish I down tools and slump in front of the TV and watch The Bachelor. Those of you who have no idea what that is probably means you have way more brain cells than me. Basically, it’s a Yankee show that features one man – ipso facto the Bachelor – and then a bunch of highly made up and generally silicon city women – meow – who all vie for his attentions supposedly in the name of true love and or a contract on Dancing with the Stars or something similar when they fall out of TV-land reality love. So from 20-something women they dwindle down to the last 4 who all proclaim love for this man they have spent maybe a hour with on a ‘one-on-one’ date while all being ‘very close’ to their fellow competitors in the race to TV love.

Why do I watch it? I think I like the schlock value of it most. I like the dramatic angst ridden ‘I love him the most’ moments, the crying, the catty looks and the carefully hidden behind a thin layer of snide remarks they make to each other. The one I’m watching at the moment is from 2009 and it features a bloke called Jason. I already Googled to see who he ended up with and the cliff hanger-gasp-shock-horror-he did-what-to-her-moment-we-all-hate-him-oh-wait-maybe-he-does-love-the-runner-up-isn’t-that-sweet-do-you-think-her-boobs-are-fake drama of it all. Love as defined by television – ain’t it gloriously plastic?