Twenty five love-starved women. One man. If you ask me, that sounds a bit like bowling – fun to do, not that exciting to watch. And yet clearly I’m in the minority, because the reality show The Bachelor is still going strong despite being on the air for 12 seasons, with a lucky 13th just about to start. (for those keeping track at home, that’s more seasons than Friends, one of the most popular shows of all time…though at least viewers of The Bachelor don’t have to watch Chandler’s face become puffier and puffier with every season).
Now, I understand the guys who volunteer to go on the show. They get to hang out with a whole houseful of women who were specifically picked to suit their every foible, with the hope of finding a perfect match. It’s obviously a good gig…or else they wouldn’t get such high-quality bachelors as football jock Jesse Palmer, and Jerry O’Connell’s brother. And this season’s candidate, Jason Mesnick, seems nice and about as exciting as you could hope for a guy who’s an “Account Executive”.
But why the heck would a woman volunteer to go on the show. Do they not tell these poor suckers there will be TWENTY FOUR other beautiful, charming and easy women all competing for the same guy? Looking at it through a gambling filter, those are crappy odds. Really crappy. And as well all know, it’s okay to play crappy odds if the prize is huge. But in this case the ultimate jackpot is an on-camera proposal, followed six months later by a break-up that’s inevitably splashed all over the tabloids. Out of the previous 12 seasons, you know how many of the “winning” women are still with her bachelor? Two. And one of those is with Chris O’Connell, notable only for being blood kin of the chubby kid from Stand By Me. Again, these women really need a lesson in odds vs. potential payoff.
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