The Bachelorette - an Island of Delusion

Delusion is not a state -  its clearly an island and every Monday night I settle myself in front of the ABC classic Bachelorette and vacation there where I watch people - compete. for. love. (Only after my 40 minute or so buffer -  because I am not a masochist)

I'm a middle child -  so I am no stranger to having to work for attention. But I don't compete for everything. Sometimes the best thing to do is walk away, and if someone doesn't love you- find someone else who does, or get a dog, or read a romance novel. (At the moment my dog does not love me due to a no-bark spray collar that was necessary once I became known to my neighbors and "the girl with the yappy dog", but lets not split hairs. Also - I still have my Kindle.)

But NOOOOOO, these "gentlemen" tend to shout at one another, talk about themselves incessantly (at the producers in the "confessional"), talk about the faults of others, and try to manipulate (and occasionally revere) a single mother who was widowed before she even got married. Shame. On. You. All. (Side note, dudes of America -  accept these three things -  no one wants to see a photo you took of yourself in the mirror, the 'f" word that is a derogatory term for a homosexual man is not EVER called for or acceptable, and women are perfectly capable of hating BOTH the player AND the game.)

Instead of enjoying this farce, and display of inanity and shamelessness. I watch it and squirm, shout and generally melt down. (thank god for DVRs and fast forward. How did we live before it???) But here is the thing -  I WATCH IT. I am disappointed if I miss it and in fact, I invite friends over to watch it with me.

So, you win reality TV. I may not battle for attention on a daily basis, but when push comes to shove, I'll watch your little fishbowl of insecurity and even write about it. in fact, I look forward to the shouting, tears and overly tan dudes with bad hair and their hijinks next week.