White chicks aren't all that different from the rest of the American television viewing audience in that nearly every person in this splendid country of ours seems to have at least a small handful of guilty-pleasure reality shows they MUST watch.
Reality TV is inarguably the turd in our proverbial cultural punchbowl, yet we just cannot get enough of it. Although some reality shows involve an original concept and genuine premise (shows like "The Amazing Race," "Top Chef" or others of similar ilk) others exist solely for unnecessary train wreck-esque drama (I'm looking in your direction "Real Housewives of insert location here") that viewers simply can't turn away from.
Make no mistake, I'm in position to judge. I've let my brain turn into custard through several "What Not to Wear" marathons (it used to be my guilty-pleasure reality show back before my miraculous free cable vanished) and used to follow "Top Chef" and a few others fairly religiously.
But there's one reality show that's nearly universally loved by all white chicks. A show that combines something of an original premise AND tons of train wreck-esque drama: White Chicks Cherish "The Bachelor/Bachelorette."
The show is based around a single bachelor/bachelorette and a houseful of 25 possible suitors. Through a series of lavish group and single dates, the potential suitors are knocked off one by one through the overly dramatic "Rose Ceremony," in which the eligible bachelor/bachelorette makes their pick of possible love connections by presenting them with a single red rose. The cast-offs usually fade into obscurity or go onto to appear on "Dancing with the Stars" or possibly "TMZ" for less than savory public behavior. The survivors of the "Rose Ceremony" are eventually wittled down to one--the "perfect" match for the eligible bachelor/bachelorette and from there it is generally understood that the two will become engaged.
In theory, "The Bachelor" seems like a perfectly plausible reality show and certainly part of its white chick appeal is the quest for true love—something nearly everyone on the planet wants for themselves. Combine that yearning, romantic quest for true love with a houseful of catty women, boatloads of booze and a hot tub and therein lies the recipe for the train wreck-eqsue drama that inevitably appeals to the white chick viewers of "The Bachelor."
Please take this post with a grain of salt, as I've only viewed a handful of episodes of the show way back in the day (Bob Guiney was "The Bachelor" that season and easily one of the biggest cheese-ball dildos that has ever been on TV), so a lot of this post is coming from pure generalization. But I'd bet what little money I have that most of it is spot on.
The cast of "The Bachelor" generally looks a little something like this:
The Bachelor: Usually an impossibly good looking guy who is also heir to a family fortune/a doctor/an actor/fighter pilot/successful entrepreneur. Generally, he's charming, handsome, wealthy, chiseled out of marble, saves kittens from burning buildings and reads to the elderly in his spare time. The perfect dude.
The Super-Serious Host: This guy is mainly in charge of milking every last drop of drama out of the "Rose Ceremony" and tends to make Captain Obvious observations like "Well, Bachelor, you only have two roses left and three women, that means someone is going home tonight."
The Hot Girl that is Super Hot and Knows it, this Making Her a Gigantic Bitch: There's always an uber-attractive, uber-confident woman in the house vying for the affection of The Bachelor. White chicks love to hate her, and for unexplainable reasons, (there's no way he could he could be happy with her!!!) she manages to survive through most of the show.
The Super Skanky Slut: There's always a fun-loving, heavy drinking chick with little to no moral code. She's usually the first one to make out with The Bachelor in the hot tub and the first to likely put out behind closed doors, thus drawing the ire of every female contestant in the house and the possible hatred of white chick viewers. Since The Bachelor spends a lot of time drunk and horny in hot tubs, the Super Skanky Slut usually sticks around for quite some time on the show despite the fact that there's no way he could be happy with her.
The Token Hot Asian Chick and/or Hot Black Chick: Despite extreme good looks and usually more intelligence and personality than most of the women in the house, the token hot minority women never last all that long on the show.
The Bat-Shit Crazy Girl: There's usually at least one girl per season on "The Bachelor" that is just as sexy as she is insane. She likely left an apartment full of unopened medications and cats behind to appear on the show and nonetheless provides for several "OMG I can't believe that just happened" moments). For some reason, The Bachelor is powerless against her tractor-beam of insanity and she nearly makes it to the end of the show.
The Hot Twins: Every straight male on the planet has at least one sexual fantasy involving gorgeous identical twins, which is why The Hot Twins pass a few cuts on "The Bachelor." In most cases, incestual reality winds up overriding sexual fantasy, and The Hot Twins end up getting cut. Plus, there is no way The Bachelor can choose just one of the twins.
The Girl Next Door that White Chicks SO Identify With: There's always the girl next door who seems perfectly sweet, nice and normal. She's definitely wife material and The Bachelor knows this. And on rare occassions she can slut it up in the hot tub with the best of them.
The Crier:Of course there's an overly sensitive drama queen who cries at nearly everything. Since men generally have no idea how to handle a crying girl situation, The Crier usually benefits from a few sympathy one-on-one dates and most women in the house usually hate her for this.
The Cougar: There's also normally one gorgeous woman who doesn't look much older than the rest of the contestants, but after a heartfelt one-on-one date it is discovered she's in her 40's and has, like, 7 children. And she usually doesn't survive long after this information leaks.
I'm sure I'm leaving a few out, but you get the general idea. Twenty-five fairly different women all trying to win the heart of one perfect man. They get drunk, go on absurdly exensive dates and all sorts of drama ensue.
In theory, "The Bachelor" is supposed to lead to an engagement and eventual marriage, but the track record of the show has proven "The Bachelor" is far more capable of producing the train wreck-esque relationship drama that white chicks cannot get enough of (it's true, white chicks love relationship drama, as long as it's not theirs!). According to Wikipedia, in the show's 15 seasons, "The Bachelor" has produced only one successful married couple—Trista and Ryan. Some shows inexplicably end with no engagement while others fizzle out in the following months—some in dramatic ways made for tabloid shows like "Extra" and TMZ" (these shows have a way of sucking you in despite the fact you can actually feel your brain cells dying while watching them).
Seven percent. That's "The Bachelor's" marriage-success rate according to my math skills and some generous rounding-up. Really? A show that is supposed to specialize in finding true love for people is only successful 7% of the time?! You mean the best way to find true love isn't to take turns making out with 25 different women while getting shit-faced hammered in a hot tub?
But my true gripe with "The Bachelor" isn't its paltry batting average. I have a much deeper reason to truly loathe this program. "The Bachelor" has made it wholly impossible to impress any girl that has ever viewed the show on a date.
I'm sorry, white chicks, but I'm not a chiseled-out-of-marble, insanely wealthy, heir to a family fortune, former college athlete turned fighter pilot/doctor/veterinarian/lawyer who reads to the elderly in his free time and spends one month every summer building schools and clean water wells for impoverished Third World children. I'm just a single, idiot dude trying to get by. And the only time I've flown in a helicopter was when I was horribly injured while snow skiing and had to be airlifted to a hospital.
Also, I don't have one of the world's largest broadcasting companies footing the bill for my dates (or painful current lack thereof). So unfortunately, I'm unable to rent out all of Disney World for the day and won't be able to make out with you in Cinderella's castle. I don't have the means to whisk you away on a catered yacht to a privately owned island where we'll ride horses in the surf and be waited on hand and foot by native butlers in the world's only five-star hotel built entirely out of bamboo and diamonds.
I was just thinking maybe we could go for beers and bar trivia, where the highlight of the night will be trying to come up with some vaguely offensive, double entendre name for our team that will make the whole bar laugh when the trivia host-guy announces the team point totals after each round.
Or maybe we can go to Chili's and get to know one another over some Southwestern Egg Rolls.
Either way, it would really help me out if we could split the check.
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