Next week, 30-year-old “Bachelorette” Kaitlyn Bristowe, a dancer from Toronto, will choose between a crazy, possessive man from Nashville whom looks like Ryan Gosling, and a disliked sales executive from Chicago whom looks like someone you’d swipe left on Tinder for describing himself as an entrepreneur. (Oh wait, that will actually be two weeks from now because we need to listen to all the men trash talk each other to host Chris Harrison in the “Men Tall All” snooze-fest this coming Monday.)
“Hey girl, I know I look like Ryan Gosling, but I won’t let you see your friends or family because of my tiny self-esteem”
(image from cdn.blogs.sheknows.com)
“The Bachelorette,” in it’s 11th season, is part of a greater phenomenon known as the “The Bachelor.” The series has been on the air since 2002, and has led to two other spin-offs, “Bachelor Pad” and “Bachelor in Paradise.” As problematic and obnoxious as these shows may be—for the most part they only select pretty white, straight, cisnormative people as contestants—It’s like a train wreck I can’t turn away from. On the air for 13 years, the series has spawned a generation of 20 and 30-year-old’s who believe they will find their husband or wife on a TV show…a TV show that lasts about 6 weeks. Yikes.
“Haha, women cry a lot.”
(gif from blog.chron.com)
While this last season of the Bachelorette may be the worst in the show’s history, (They faked a gay romance between JJ and Clint for ratings, edited the film to slut-shame Kaitlyn for sleeping with Nick and had men vote between two bachelorettes, sending one home feeling unwanted and defeated, AGAIN), It’s been my favorite to hate-watch because it’s just so bad. Yes, I believe in love. Yes, I think love is a wonderful thing. Yes, everyone deserves loves. But I don’t think it’s possible to have a clear enough head to objectively decide you’re in love when ABC is telling you how to behave and what to think, all the while in front of TV cameras.
Surprise Kaitlyn! The men are going to decide which one of you is MORE “wife material”
(gif from Bustle.com)
As this show becomes a hotter and hotter mess each season, I’m not any less likely to tune out. And while that probably should frighten me, It’s also two hours of escapism that allows me to turn off my brain once a week—and we all know I’m someone who does too much thinking. This show makes me laugh. This show probably makes me feel better about myself. This show makes me realize just how normal and healthy my current relationship is. While traveling the world and “falling in love” away from the troubles of life has been appealing to audiences for years, falling in love the old fashion way—not auditioning for a reality show and being humiliated in front of millions of people—is still the way to go.
Who wouldn’t want to wake up next to this?
So, while an endless amount of couples get engaged for middle America and end up broken up three months later, I can stuff my face with some Boom Chicka Pop White Cheddar Popcorn (this isn’t a plug, I swear, it’s just really good), have a couple glasses of Sauvignon Blanc while I make fun of all the drama and let my brain take a much needed break from the day. I actually, truly wish the best for every couple that hopes to walk down the aisle after this show is done, I just don’t have much hope. And I’ve accepted that.