Tonight Lindsey and I were eating dinner after a long day, and she reminded me of the times we would watch trashy TV and make fun of it. I reminded her that we in fact did that last night, when we watched Miss Tennessee lose to Miss California in the Miss USA Pageant, or, as I like to call it, “The Amazing Race to Coherently Complete a Sentence.”
But that didn’t stop us from watching The Bachelorette, which, while not as enjoyable as its more popular and skinnier older sister, is still some quality prime-time ridiculousness. I always enjoy when Ultimate Bro Host Chris Harrison reminds contestants to ask themselves if they are on the show for the “right reasons.” Presumably UBHCH is implying they should be on the show for love, which I would argue is exactly the wrong reason to go on a show that consists primarily of drinking and frolicking in international tourist traps. The right reason would be something along the lines of, “To launch a short-lived, D-list celebrity career that culminates in at least a dozen tabloid magazine cover appearances, three cable reality contests and the presentation of a TV Guide Award.” (Those still exist, right?) Maybe not the most noble reasons, but the right reasons given the environment.
I imagine that part of the show’s appeal is to convince us that all the pretty people are actually pretty messed up, because they’re looking for love/fame in the most ludicrous way possible. In comparison, our lives are pretty good. I might not get to jump off waterfalls in Costa Rica or have a picnic in the Serengeti, but I get to hold a beautiful, loving woman in one arm and pet my absurdly loyal dog with the other as we all fall asleep on the couch in a safe, cool place. I get to share real kisses with the woman I love, not drunken makeouts with a woman I might like. I look over at her and know that she picked me for all the right reasons, and that I’m better for it.
I’ll take that over a TV Guide Award every single time.
