I’m not ashamed to admit I watch The Bachelor. Two hours of escapist brain candy about a hunky bachelor traveling around the world on his quest for true love? Sign me up! My beloved husband of ten years does not feel quite so, how shall I say, enamored with my particular choice of TV shows: “We’re watching this crap again?”
He complains that the show is “unrealistic.” Well, duh! It’s a reality show! He mentions that the girls seem like they're made of plastic and that they seem shallow (“All they care about is their hair and their make-up and if the Bachelor is going to let them wear an expensive Neil Lane diamond necklace on their date to the Sydney Opera House.”) He points out that no self-respecting girl would subject herself to the blathering competition of 23 other girls. He’s right: I don’t think there’s a lot of self-respect involved.
But that’s not what today’s blog is about. No. Come take a peek inside my brain, because I had a dream.
I’m on the show. I’ve got the gowns, the make-up, the fake tan. The Bachelor’s noticed me, and he’s chosen me to go on our first one-on-one date (doesn’t the word “date” traditionally imply one-on-one? Not in ABC’s Bachelor World). We’re standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower (or the Leaning Tower of Pisa, or the London Bridge, choose one). He whispers to me how lovely I look, how “real” I seem, and how he hopes I’m there “for the right reasons.” He leans in for the kiss when it dawns on me: yikes!
Here you’re probably thinking, “Yikes is right. She’s already married, plus she has two sons—hence the blog name of mothersofbrothersblog. She can’t be on The Bachelor.”
Now, before you get all upset and outraged and judgmental, stop to think for a minute that The Bachelor is, in fact, a very open-minded and liberal show. There’s always at least one girl who’s divorced. There’s always one (sometimes more) who has a child. So what? I’m breaking new ground: I’m the first one to go on the show who has both a husband and a child(ren)!
The reason I say “Yikes” when I'm about to be kissed in front of millions of viewers (fans?) on national television is not because I’m worried what my kids will think, or what my actual husband will think when we watch this episode together later (“Hon, that girl looks a lot like you.”); no. The reason I say “Yikes” is because I'm suddenly fearful that my in-laws will see the show, and that they will be really upset.
Hell hath no fury like a mother-in-law scorned.
(“Made Of Veneer”)