Spinsters in Televison: The Bachelor/Bachelorette Series

Today we present the third in a series of featured entries entitled "Spinsters in the Media: Who Gets It Right?"

Though we singletons are frequently portrayed in television, movies, literature, and popular media/culture, the portrayal is rarely accurate. Upon occasion, however, we encounter the rare portrayal of singles that has, at the very least, a kernel of truth. Of course, these examples won't speak to everyone. Singles are, by definition, unique, one of a kind.  Not every portrayal of singlehood will speak to every singleton.  And none of these examples completely capture my own experience with singlehood. But I can relate.


Today's example comes to us from the television series The Bachelor and its sister series (or is that a bit incestuous?) The Bachelorette.


I'm not really a fan of so-called "Reality TV." A few shows in that category--The Amazing Race, Project Runway, and, recently, The Voice--have intrigued me with their talented contestants or entertaining hosts. But most of the bug-eating, rose-giving, back-stabbing, on-camera-confessing antics seem to me pretty far removed from both entertainment and reality.


And thanks to the media blitz, you don't have to even watch these shows to know what's going on. This season of The Bachelorette has especially been fodder for check-out aisle headlines.  Apparently, putting 25 strangers in the same house together, challenging them to duke it out for the affections of one person, and capturing it all on camera for the world to see doesn't bring out the best in people.


So you may find it surprising that I find a kernel of singlehood truth in these shows.  Well, sometimes even "Reality TV" goes off script. 


At the end of one season of The Bachelorette, contestant Jen Schefft, after carefully narrowing down her pool of bachelors, actually turned down both finalists and walked away single.


Time magazine columnist Anita Hamilton described the fan outrage that followed this unconventional decision and also what she found refreshing about the situation:

[W]atching Jen apologetically admit that none of the men on the show were right for her was strangely liberating. She reminded me that as much as the legions of single women like me want to find a mate, you can't force it. In a way, Jen did us a favor by demonstrating that single gals aren't all a bunch of Bridget Joneses, desperate for love. By showing us that Mr. Wrongs are a dime a dozen, reality TV for once felt real.

Hamilton went on to analyze the angry reaction to Bachelorette Jen's decision:

[T]here's a whole industry devoted to exploiting the anxiety of single women. We are constantly deluged with messages that we really should get it together and find a man--and the sooner, the better. Why else would so many angry viewers be predicting that Jen will wind up an old maid? How else to explain the 25 bridal magazines at my local bookstore, including one that boasts "over 900 wedding gowns" on its cover and another that is 810 pages long? . . .

We can't blame books, magazines and movies for all the pressure, though. It's our fault too for buying into the women's-magazine cycle of building up our self-esteem and then exploiting our insecurities with endless tips on dieting, flirting and impressing a man in bed. (If we're so fabulous, why do we need so much fixing up?) It's an addictive game as well. When meeting up with friends, the question Are you dating anyone? comes up too soon. Even on girls' nights out, we usually talk about boys.

The insidious part is the sense of desperation. Shopping is fun, but last-minute shopping is a recipe for regret. In Be Honest--You're Not That into Him Either, which serves as a comeback to the obnoxious best seller, author Ian Kerner advises women to step off the dating StairMaster and stop hooking up with "meantimers" just so we feel as though we're in the game. Author Sasha Cagen has even coined the term quirkyalone (in her book of the same name) for a person who "prefers to be alone rather than date for the sake of being in a couple." Better to be quirkyalone than unhappy together.

(Read Anita Hamilton's entire essay, "The Bachelorette Who Set Us Free," here.)

As a fellow singleton, I appreciate Jen's willingness to acknowledge the limitations of televised match-making.  For her courage to choose to be "quirkyalone," I offer her this rose and a hearty "You go, girl!"






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