Guilty Pleasures

It is one of those nights that I love. Elisa (my six year old daughter) is in bed and Rob is out. I have the house to myself to do as I wish. I have a confession to make. As much as I try to deny it, I am a reality T.V. junkie. What is it about watching the fights, break downs, joys and triumphs of "real lives" that is so appealing?

When Rob and I first started dating it was a bit long distance, which meant lots of phone calls. One night as we were talking on the phone, Rob said he had to ask me a very important question. He asked if I watch reality T.V. shows. My immediate response was no, but then I added that I did watch Supernanny occasionally. He said that was O.K. as long as I didn't have a bunch of reality T.V. shows that I watched.

Of course, as a single mother on a limited budget, I only had basic cable. Once Rob and I moved in together, I discovered a bunch more shows that I liked on channels that I didn't have before. They were all reality T.V. shows.

I try not to subject Rob to my junk shows too often. He doesn't understand how I can enjoy watching Gordon Ramsay yelling obscenities at the cooks on Hell's Kitchen, or how I find the crazy people fighting on Trading Spouses entertaining. I will admit it, I like the freaks. I like watching the obsessively religious/Christian mom trying to convert an atheist family. It's futile and hilarious at the same time. I also get some kind of sick pleasure out of watching real life fights resembling that of a Jerry Springer brawl.

I think it's human nature. It's the same reason that everyone slows down when they drive by a car crash. Are they genuinely concerned with the welfare of the people? Of course not. They want to see how crunched up the cars are, and possibly whose fault the accident was.

Since I got tired of hearing how reality shows are going to rot my brain and I'll have no memory left by the time I'm 50, I have stopped watching reality T.V. shows while Rob is around. However, on a night like this, I will indulge in my guilty little pleasure without anyone around to chastise me for it. As long as I never resemble "Peggy Bundy" (from Married With Children) sitting on the couch eating bonbons all day, I'll know that the reality shows have not harmed me that much.