Jim had a gig last night, so I spent most of the evening writing thirty donation request letters for raffle items for the summer reading program – a seemingly easy task, but always remarkably time-consuming. Last night it took four and a half hours, which includes the writing of the letters, printing of the envelopes, and, most importantly, fact-checking on the web, since donation request contact people often change from one year to the next, and larger organizations like the local minor league baseball teams often change donation request procedures from one year to the next.
At any rate, by the time I finished at 8:15 I was ready to do something totally mindless. So I cracked open a growler of Lost Sailor* and turned on the T.V. And watched “The Bachelorette,” a show I’d normally avoid at all costs. Last week when I was home sick and too dizzy to read, I did watch some bad television, but “The Bachelorette” definitely trumps that episode of “Divorce Court” that I saw on Thursday.
So here’s my beef with “The Bachelorette”: the whole premise of the show is what’s wrong with love and marriage in this country in general. Ali, the bachelorette, had a great home-based date with a nice guy last night, where they cooked dinner together, hung out and relaxed together, and seemed to have a nice happy time together. But Ali sent this guy home because she wanted “romance” and a “connection,” and if a guy wasn’t going to be “romantic” in this reality T.V. setting, then there was no chance of “romance” in real life. I’d love to take Ali aside and tell her that diamonds and roses aren’t romantic. Romantic is coming home after a long day of work, feeling kinda sick and crummy, and having your sweet husband smile at you and say, “You look awful. Sit down, take a load off, and let me cook dinner for you.” Seriously. Romance is those little, daily thoughtful things that show how much you care about someone. Sure, a big date night here and there is good, and remembering birthdays (hint hint) is also good, but it’s the day to day compassion and love that really count.
But I didn’t see any evidence of that type of romance and caring on last night’s show. There was a lot of testosterone fueled posturing as the guys talked about “being there for Ali,” a girl they hardly know, and there were a lot of fake smiles and strained facial expressions and a whole lot of wine consumption. It was pretty depressing. Luckily, Jim came home before the end of the show and we muted the volume and made fun of the whole silliness. While consuming popcorn and Lost Sailor, of course.
* Please note that I did NOT single-handedly consume said growler. That would just be gross.