Hello ladies! Welcome to my most dramatic column ever! I’m so glad you decided to go on this journey with me. God, I could just kill myself every time Chris Harrison or anyone on The Bachelor says the word journey. My husband and I actually play a drinking game where every time anyone says: journey, amazing, intimate moment, spontaneous, adventurous, fairytale, rose or alone time you have to take a drink. Needless to say, we’re usually tanked by the first ad break. The problem is, The Bachelor is one of those shows that I have to watch season after season despite my best efforts to stay away. I will watch almost junk food pseudo reality offered up. My TiVo is an embarrassment of trashy riches: American Idol, The Janice Dickenson Modeling Agency, The Rock of Love Bus, Charm School, oh yeah, it’s all there. As a former television writer, you’d think I’d know better. I’ve been behind the scenes. I know how much of it is scripted or manipulated in editing but I still get a charge out of watching people act like complete freaks. That much you can’t fake.
Through season upon season The Bachelor has shown fame hungry sorority chicks, some of whom barely have a strangle-hold on sanity, vie for the privilege of marrying some dude who’s good on paper. Yet every year the “winning” gal ends up broken up with and alone with barely their fifteen minutes under their belt. This is season 13 and there has yet to be a Bachelor marriage. Only The Bachelorette has produced an actual couple –although don’t get me started on Trista and her baby-voice. But really, this is fine. These people shouldn’t be getting married after knowing each other six weeks and having limited alone time (uh oh, I said “alone time!” I have to take a drink). This all brings me to my point (and I do have one); up until now The Batch has just been innocent voyeuristic fun but suddenly it doesn’t seem as light to me now that the bachelor in question, Jason Mesnick, has a three-year-old son. It’s one thing to leave your home for six weeks and take up with a feckless blonde with fake boobies who claims to be an “administrative assistant” or “personal trainer” when you have no one to be responsible for but yourself, it’s another thing to inflict a six week absence and a possible flighty new mom on your preschooler. And this guy has done it not once but TWICE in the space of a year! Yeah, first he got down on one knee completely ready to hitch his and his son’s wagon to Deanna Pappas but, unfortunately for him, she wanted the jobless snowboarding dork instead. Now he’s back.
It turns my stomach when I think about it too much and isn’t the point of reality TV that we don’t have to think? I watch The Bachelor for a vacation from the real reality of my three children, the sinking economy, the sad state of my kitchen due to my lax housekeeping duties, and the furry vegetables in my crisper. Bring me a childless man whore!