Executive Committee Report

The very first “reality” dating show in the U.S. debuted on television in 1965 — The Dating Game. Thus began our televised fascination with love and relationships, the answer to the question, “Can we develop a formula for true love?” The phenomenon only grew bigger with the introduction of dating in the dark, dating naked, dating in the snow, dating in the tropics, getting married before dating, and the list goes on. Long gone are the game show days of “making whoopee” — now, one of the most popular and widely known of these dating shows on television is The Bachelor.

On a recent episode of The Bachelor (for those unfamiliar with this franchise, a long-standing reality show on ABC that helps the “bachelor” or “bachelorette” find love among an army of suitors), one of the contestants was sitting across from the lead, Peter, lamenting that if she could only figure out what her issues were, maybe she would stop interrupting their time together to go hide in a bathroom stall as she continued to pick fights with him and push him away. I shouted at my television screen, “GO TO THERAPY!” The solution felt so obvious to me. This person had just spelled out to her “boyfriend” a reason that brings a lot of people into treatment: a desire to find out more about herself and ease her relationship challenges. After more thought, I realized that part of what makes this show so delectable is that the majority of the contestants have (probably) not been to therapy and act on feelings instead of regulating themselves enough to tolerate their feelings without acting on them. This inability to regulate seems to be the catalyst for the drama that is the very foundation of this show's success.

I've loved The Bachelor since I was a pre-teen. I withstand much concern from my loved ones, including “You're rotting your brain!” and “How could you watch that trash?” My retort is usually along the lines of how much joy and entertainment I find in this grotesque exaggeration of archaic mating ritu