These days, many bizarre things pass for entertainment. For example, there's a show on one of the network channels in which people attempt to traverse an obstacle course comprised of bouncy slides and spinning igloos. There are also, of course, the numerous iterations of dating shows like The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, The Spinster, The Old Maid, The Viagra Addict, and the Old Man in the Nursing Home Who Hits on the Janitor. On the rare occasions in which I actually sit in front of the TV with a big bowl of kale chips, hoping to be dazzled by the products of the multimillion-dollar television industry, I invariably find myself wondering, "Is this supposed to be entertaining?"
It's no secret that I'm a snob about, well, everything. You think classical music is all about Beethoven? Pfft. You've don't know who Camus is? Pshaw. You can't even pronounce Camus correctly? The horror! Thus, it should come as no surprise that I'm extraordinarily discerning when it comes to TV shows. Which brings me to...
The Real Housewives series.
No, you did not misread that. No, you're not mysteriously suffering from hallucinations. I am actually, sincerely, profoundly addicted to The Real Housewives shows. I cannot explain it. I cannot justify it. I can only admit it.
I confess, loyal readers, that this addiction has plagued me for nearly a year. In an attempt to take control of so raging an obsession, I have long desired to write a blog about the strange, disturbing television series that has hijacked my delicate sensibilities, compelling me to spend hours staring in rapt horror at the daily antics of aging, self-obsessed women when my time would be better spent doing...well, pretty much anything else.
For those of you who are blissfully unfamiliar with The Real Housewives monstrosity, allow me to bring you up to speed. The Bravo series follows the trials and tribulations of well-to-do women living in interesting locales such as Orange County, New York City, Atlanta, New Jersey, etc. We learn about their husbands, finances, children, and interpersonal conflicts, all in such gory detail that I have had several disturbing dreams about Teresa Giudice's complicated feud with her sister-in-law. Divorces and gigantic falling-outs between friends are the norm, as are bankruptcy, lawsuits, evictions, and dinner parties from Hell.
It shouldn't surprise you that much of the general public latches on quite easily to the series. It's scandalous, brainless fluff to fill the boring days of middle-class American life. But the fact that I've latched on to this series with alarming fervor should surprise anyone who knows Ms. Incendiary Wit--she who scorns popular music and can't stomach the notion of Chick Lit.
To make amends with this distressing source of cognitive dissonance, I choose to assert that my penchant for the Real Housewives is simply a devotion to cultural and sociological studies of gender relations in Western society. For example, I've learned from The Real Housewives of Atlanta that racial stereotypes associated with black women are allowed to persist in modern society for multiple reasons, not simply because of a hegemonic desire to maintain the status held by women of color. Would anyone argue with me when I say that NeNe Leakes single-handedly hinders the progress of black women every time she opens her mouth?
Similarly, the idea that attractive women use their feminine wiles to ensnare men with money who will, in turn, lavish them with jewels, cars, plastic surgery, and beautiful homes is reinforced with stunning conviction in every permutation of The Real Housewives. Gorgeous, fit women with incredible tans, gigantic breasts, and immovable foreheads croon over the hideous, paunchy, Black American Express-card wielding men they married in the most disgustingly obvious displays of legal prostitution.
However, to say that all of the Real Housewives are kept women is a fallacy. Many, if not most, of the Real Housewives (and I think ALL of the Real Housewives of New York City) make their own money. Granted, not one is a nuclear physicist or a cardiothoracic surgeon, but the career-minded women do well for themselves in the fashion industry, business, marketing, and many other fields that are not terribly intellectually-demanding. One of the Atlanta Housewives is an attorney. An Orange County Housewife owns an insurance distribution company. So the title "The Real Housewives" is a bit of a misnomer, as a good portion of the women are not housewives, and, indeed, many are not even wives at all.
Regardless, they all have one thing in common: The Real Housewives, like most Real Women, love love love love LOVE getting attention. Why else would an otherwise sane person consent to having cameras capture her precious, intimate moments with her children and husband for all the world to see? Who would desire to have the scrutiny of strangers, strangers who never hesitate to publicly criticize the parenting, financial, and relationship decisions made by these women? The answer is: any woman who is starved of her daily required intake of attention. In lieu of sufficient attention from her husband, children, and/or other loved ones, a woman WILL seek attention from any living, breathing individual, including strangers. I would argue that this is true to an even greater extent for women who are attractive, whether it's attractive for their age (like the 40-something Cougars who permeate the series) or simply HOT HOT HOT(like Gretchen Rossi of the Real Housewives of Orange County). This is because attractive women tend to expect more, because they believe that their aesthetic appeal renders them entitled to more: more attention, more bling, more romance. When attractive women with wealthy lifestyles are left wanting more, well, The Real Housewives franchise blossoms.
At the end of the day, the women on The Real Housewives shows are sad, sad individuals with some deeply-rooted psychopathology that causes them to desire the approval and love of strangers. I shouldn't be feeding into their narcissistic quests for self-acceptance, right? Right? Oh, please, somebody come and disconnect my cable! I can't stop watching this crap!
