Reality Matters_ 19 Writers Come Clean About the Shows We Can't Stop Watching - Anna David [56]
The fantasy comes to an abrupt halt when all the final women save one get ceremoniously rejected on national television before being led by the recalcitrant bachelor to a waiting limo, where they’re whisked away, shell-shocked and wondering where they went wrong. The camera closes in on their mascara-streaked faces as they berate themselves: “Was I a bad kisser?” “I knew I should have waxed my upper lip!” “If only I were a blonde, he would have loved me.” One woman was so distraught about being rejected that she left the show in an ambulance after suffering a televised anxiety attack.
This show is so demented, it’s awesome. Who dreamed this stuff up? Mike Fleiss, the second cousin of infamous ex-Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss, that’s who. At least Heidi didn’t dress up pimping as love. When asked what the screening process for the women was like, Mike explained, “The women really have to want this. They are given blood tests, psych tests, and most importantly, [they] need to look good in a hot tub.”
I understand why the producers might not want women with high moral fiber—after all, what fun would a slew of puritans be? And what STD-free emotionally stable hottie would want to live on camera, day in and day out, with twenty-four other beautiful babes all sharing the same bathroom—and the same man? I think the producers do a great job of casting (or at least editing them into) needy caricatures of women: I particularly liked the sequence in season one where a busty babe finally got the elusive bachelor to herself—and spent the whole time talking as fast as she could about how she’d read every self-help book in the world but still couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t make a relationship work. Just in case he was “the one,” however, she had already purchased the eight yards of silk necessary to make her wedding gown. Way to reel him in!
And where do they find the guys? Supposedly, they search the country for the most eligible bachelors—successful and good-looking but, most important, ready to settle down. This got me thinking: Isn’t a bachelor by definition a man committed to being single? According to Wikipedia, the term is often “restricted to men who do not have and are not actively seeking a spouse or other personal partner.” Unless, of course, he is a “confirmed bachelor,” and then he is simply gay.
The men aren’t looking for fame or fortune; they’re looking for true love. Well, except for season one’s Alex, who auditioned for The Bachelor only after he failed to make it onto Survivor. And then there was season five’s Jesse, the New York Giants quarterback who was paid six figures to appear on the show and left the playing field (after playing the field) for a career in media shortly thereafter. And let’s not forget bachelor Bob from season four, who ended up getting sued by the show for using his Bachelor status to promote his “music.” When his singing career didn’t quite pan out, he kept the dating theme alive by hosting Cooking to Get Lucky (mDialog) and Date My House (TLC).
After thirteen seasons, none of the bachelors has married his reality TV sweetheart, but some appear to have found love as a result of their newfound fame. Andy (season ten) hooked up with the former Mrs. Trump, Marla Maples (reality TV is such a small world!), Matt (The Bachelor: London Calling) became engaged to his publicist Sarah; and good old bachelor Bob ended up marrying a soap opera actress who hosted some kind of “After-the-Bachelor” special.
As I fast-forwarded through season after season, I noticed that