Stop by parents’ house to borrow a potato masher.
Look down your nose at them as they turn on the TV and announce their plans to watch “The Bachelorette.”
“Oh I can’t watch that show. A bunch of women clamoring for one man’s attention because they’re so desperate to get married and have babies that they’ll go on reality TV and make out in hot tubs to make it happen? Doesn’t get any more sexist than that....What’s that?...Oh, the girl chooses the guy this time around. Huh. Well, I’ll watch a few minutes...”
Stay until the end of the show.
Return potato masher. Act surprised when parents notice that you’re just in time for “The Bachelorette.” Stay for the sake of “family time.” Pretend you haven’t familiarized yourself with terms such as “rose ceremony” and “group date” and “here for the right reasons.”
Skip “The Bachelorette” because you’re too good for it.
Go to lunch the next day with girlfriends who have strong opinions about Ryan.
Watch “The Bachelorette” on Hulu to find out more about this Ryan guy—because you love your friends enough to try to share their interests.
Form stronger opinions about Ryan than universal healthcare. Shout, “Ditch him Emily!” at the computer. Die a little inside.
Watch “The Bachelorette” ironically.
Tweet snarky comments about how we don’t need Chris Harrison to count roses for us; we know how many ‘one’ is.
Watch the “The Bachelorette” from the treadmill, because a two-hour workout justifies anything.
Skip “The Bachelorette” because you’re too good for it and because final edits to your book are due to publisher.
Internal dialog: “Wow. I’m mentally exhausted from all those edits. What I really need right now is some mindless entertainment. My muse must rest; it’s part of the creative process.”
Grab a bottle of wine and catch up on “The Bachelorette” via Hulu.
“Sweetie, when was the last time we spent some good quality family time with my parents?”
Skip the stupid “Guys Tell All” episode for the sole purpose of being able to say, “It’s not like I saw every episode or anything” without lying.
Might as well find out what happens—plus I have a bet with my mom that Emily chooses Arie.
...Stupid potato masher.
So...what’s your guilty pleasure?