|Keepin' it real
||[Jun. 14th, 2007|11:52 pm]
The time has come when I have to face the awful truth - I watch reality television.
I resisted for a very long time. When everyone gathered around the water cooler discussing the first season of survivor, I was clueless. When my co-workers spent one morning a week re-hashing the shenanigans on The Bachelor, I didn't join in. My friend's questions about who was my favorite on American Idol were met with blank stares.
I don't know when it happened, exactly. I think I blame my children. Middle Daughter started watching Idol, and since we only have one television, I watched too. That doesn't explain how Husband and I ended up watching the entire first season of Average Joe, but we can gloss over that part.
These days, the list is long. We watched the whole season of Idol, and voted. Husband and I caught almost every episode of The Bachelor, while telling ourselves it was just because one of the girls was from our hometown. The first three seasons of Dancing With the Stars were must-see TV. Middle Daughter and I and never miss So You Think You Can Dance. We marked the calendar for the premiere of Hell's Kitchen. We are one of the three households in America that actually tunes in to On The Lot.
But I think I figured it out. I'm just tired of having my heart broken by getting sucked into a scripted show that gets the axe after the first season, or - even worse - five episodes in. Reality TV asks nothing of me. It's self-contained. I don't have to worry about being left at the alter with plotlines dangling and conflict unresolved. I know going in that it's going to be a short-term relationship; we'll enjoy our time together, share a few laughs, and then part company with no hard feelings.
Suddenly, I feel so cheap.