The bachelor

I pride myself on being an optimist. Every negative observation I make in life is not recorded for posterity. Avoiding pessimism is one of my major life goals. However, there’s a television show that possesses such utter and complete stupidity and selfishness that it warrants a column all its own. Reader, beware.
When I first heard about the show “The Bachelor” a few years ago, I knew it was marketing genius. Pure genius. Successful good lookin’ guy on a search for love. Successful good lookin’ girls on a quest to win his affections. America’s love for romance and happy endings would foster a business bonanza for the producers. What I didn’t know was how utterly ridiculous it would become. I hadn’t watched it in several years, but I caught part of the season finale the other night. For those of you who’ve chosen wisely not to muddle your minds with “The Bachelor,” I’m glad to provide this overview. Oh, and if you truly believe that Coyote really did blow himself to smithereens with Acme TNT while the roadrunner ran by laughing, I’ll have no trouble selling “The Bachelor” to you as reality TV.
It all starts with the first meeting. A successful single man stands at the door of a mansion and greets 25 women individually. They desperately try to impress him. Some of the girls act out in terrible ways that would embarrass their grandmothers. The profound desire to look like an insecure idiot on national television is obviously more important than what Grandma thinks. Yeah. Explain that one to me.
The elimination phase of the show begins almost immediately. He doesn’t really know any of the girls at this point but it’s time to get out the weed eater. The pessimist in me believes that the producers of the show whisper things in his ear like, “You have to keep that short North Dakota woman with the spiked hair for a while. Her loud and ridiculous behavior is just too good for ratings!” Eventually he whittles the field down to two women. Two “lucky” women. They will each go on dates and extended vacations with him.  The bachelor will even travel to their hometowns to meet their family members.  The producers assure us that nothing immoral goes on because of the chaperones. But that depends on how you define immoral. See, call me crazy, but I think it’s a bit immoral to say, “Grandma, this is the man I love” while all of America watches footage of him kissing another girl at a Chinese restaurant the night before.
The worst part of the show is the last part. The bachelor keeps saying on camera, “I can’t decide. I love both of them. I’m torn. I’m in agony.” Yeah. I know the producers make him say it. But truthfully, he HAS been kissing both girls A LOT and telling them both that he feels that “special something” for both of them. At this point, it doesn’t matter who wins. In my book, the winner is now the loser. I wouldn’t want a man who couldn’t decide between me and someone else. I wouldn’t want a man who could kiss a girl one minute and break her heart the next. Something’s not right about that. And maybe that’s why in all the show’s seven-year success, not one bachelor has ended up actually marrying the “chosen one.” Which just goes to prove that Grandma was absolutely right. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.
For more information about Lisa Smartt, visit her Web site lisasmartt.com.
Published in The Messenger 3.10.10

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