Frog Kissing

This morning I am pondering the outrageous parameters of "reality TV", and it was brought about by watching a movie yesterday afternoon before returning the DVD to Netflix.



Reality as perceived by screenwriters or other authors who have people find their soul mate within a span of forty-eight hours? Give me a break! I know they only have a short time to tell their story and I can suspend reality for the course of the movie. But if you ask me today if I enjoyed it, well. .. ... .. I'll hesitate to recommend it.

In exactly the same genre, is a series like "The Bachelor". Why on earth would anyone assume that given a "choice" of x number of beautiful girls, that one of them would be marriage material? Just exactly the sort of person you would be happy with for the rest of your life?

If you have ever subjected yourself to blind dating, and its agony, you know what I mean. Unless you were lucky enough to fall hopelessly in love within forty-eight hours.

In the dark ages, back when I was in the mate selection pool, I wondered if there was anybody in the world who would "get" me. Who would understand my sense of humor, who would have my values, who would have a job, an education, a car that ran. (You remember the criteria.) I never for a moment was concerned about getting matched up with a control freak, a hoarder, or a wife-beater. I had never seen horrible examples of husbands----I didn't know they existed!

Thankfully in my innocence I met husband material. Thankfully, I didn't have to do it with the world watching. (Just my Grandma Anderson, whose only question was, "Is he Swedish?") First things first.