A MATCH MADE IN HELL

All right! I admit it! I'm guilty as charged! I’m a hardcore addict of the reality TV show “The Bachelor/The Bachelorette” and nothing can be done to rid me of my inner demons. Monday night I was glued to my front row sofa watching former honey pies Jake and Vienna verbally duke it out six months after they professed their undying love for each other on the show.

It was high drama of the lowest proportions. Vienna called Jake a “liar” and a “media whore” and Jake called Vienna “disrespectful“--and probably would have called her a lot more except she kept interrupting him. Finally, after about 45 minutes of “she said/he tried to say,” Jake raised his voice to her and asked to speak, at which point she burst into fake tears and dashed off the set. It was great.

Now, while I was relishing in all the whining, Big Bore was in the next room on the computer, shaking his head in wonderment. How could a person with some degree of intelligence, as in me, be hooked on this show?

“This is just ABC trying to get the ratings,” he said. “This shouldn’t be called a reality show. It’s a stupidity show.”

Did his remarks offend me and send me into a Vienna-sized snit? Absolutely not. I totally agree with him and told him so. I know that being a fan of this show is asinine, but it’s sort of like watching a train wreck. You know you should be turning the other way, but you still want to see how the disaster turns out. It sort of validates your own relationship catastrophes. And, believe me, I’ve had a few of those.

Some people are hooked on drugs, alcohol, phonics, whatever. I’m addicted to this dumb show. It’s cheap, doesn’t harm my body, and provides me with a few laughs. So, until someone develops a 12-Step Program for Reality TV Junkies, I’ll be tuned in to the chaos every Monday night, helping ABC win the ratings race. Love is in the air--but sometimes it stinks.