Plenty to mock but more to de­plore

Townsville Bulletin - - NEWS -

I’M not sure I can bring my­self to watch The Bach­e­lor.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to roast a ter­ri­ble re­al­ity show. I have watched some shock­ing of­fer­ings, all to tear down the ridicu­lous con­tes­tants and flimsy premises. ( Dat­ing Naked, I’m look­ing at you.)

But the last time I tried to watch The Bach­e­lor and laugh at it, I ended up yelling at the screen.

“Don’t de­grade your­self,” I cried, when a con­tes­tant de­clared that she felt that she truly loved the bach­e­lor in ques­tion, even though he wouldn’t say it back and was still schmooz­ing another woman.

I scoffed when the bach­e­lor told both girls they were truly spe­cial.

I was ap­palled when a pro­posal wasn’t met with a gi­ant “whoa, what are you do­ing? Let me date you as the woman you’ve cho­sen and not one of the many for a while first”.

In short, I re­ally wanted to get on board with the hate- watch­ing, but was too busy with the hate part to ac­tu­ally de­rive any en­joy­ment from it.

Yes, last year’s show gave us the con­cept of dirty street pies, but it also re­minded us the whole thing is a farce.

Af­ter the vomit- in­duc­ing, cringe­wor­thy sap of the grand fi­nal pro­posal, it was quickly re­vealed that win­ner Sam Frost had been dumped and Bach­e­lor Blake was in­stead en­joy­ing a tryst with the run­ner- up.

Throw in a strip­per past, an auc­tion of the en­gage­ment ring and a new TV role for Sam as The Bach­e­lorette and it’s ob­vi­ous that it’s all a car crash of a pub­lic­ity stunt.

Yet the damn show is still pol­lut­ing the air­waves and mak­ing me doubt the fu­ture of hu­man­ity.

I’m more of a fan of Chi­nese dat­ing show If You Are The One. A male con­tes­tant is sized up by 24 women, who watch video pre­sen­ta­tions about his job, hob­bies, views on love and what his friends think of him.

The girls have lights they can switch off if they’re not in­ter­ested. I love when half the lights go off within min­utes of the guy ap­pear­ing and the girls let rip with bru­tal crit­i­cisms.

That’s not for­get­ting the other bizarre el­e­ments such as earnest singing demon­stra­tions, ques­tions about whether the girls would be will­ing to live with the con­tes­tant’s mother and women wear­ing cat ears.

At least in that case, the fact that it’s all an or­ches­trated match­mak­ing ex­er­cise is al­ways ac­knowl­edged.

In The Bach­e­lor, it’s dressed up as an ad­ven­ture in find­ing love.

That is, as much as you can find love when the guy’s dat­ing 18 other women at the same time.

That’s not ro­mance. That’s a rea­son to buy some cold sore cream.

with Vic­to­ria Nu­gent vic­to­ria. nu­gent@ news. com. au

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