In certain circles of society, admitting that you watch reality shows is akin to saying casually, “My mind is a soft jelly – best served cold!”
On one level, I agree wholeheartedly with that statement. And yet, even though they’re vehicles for the worst human behavior, there’s something strangely addicting about reality shows, in all of their vapid, cheesy glory. Perhaps it’s the easy access to over the top drama, or the idea that we can all be Andy Warhol’s brand of famous one day, or maybe it’s just a good case of schadenfreude. Whatever it is, there’s a reason why the genre is so popular.
For me, though, I find I can only watch reality shows when I am in a very particular place in my life. I’ll go months without watching them, and then I’ll gorge myself until I’m sick. It is a quick but intense addiction cycle, that looks a little bit like this.