When I was in elementary school, “Jersey Shore” was at its peak and it was ruining the state I called home. New Jersey was not so affectionately known as the “Armpit of America” and my dad would go out of his way to remind us that Pauly D is actually from Rhode Island. Like many New Jersey kids, I went on to hate “Jersey Shore” and its impact on my state's reputation.
On a routine Costco run in 2011, my family and I noticed a huge crowd. As we checked it out, I saw a tiny person with a huge bump of hair. It was Snooki herself, a cast member of “Jersey Shore.” Taken off of the streets of Belmar, here she was: kind and smiling while signing books for fans.
I went home that day and secretly turned on MTV, thus beginning a love-hate relationship with reality TV. “Jersey Shore” ended up going way over my head, so I adopted a more kid friendly option: the Canadian animated show “Total Drama Island.” I became obsessed with each competition, but above all loved the complicated relationships the show brought.
As a kid, pop culture surrounded me. My mom, to this day, buys People Magazine and U.S. Weekly from the supermarket. We used to take turns reading the celebrity gossip section and then would choose which celebrity wore it best. Awards season was its peak with revealed blind items and beautiful gowns. I will never forget Sandra Bullock’s purple Golden Globes dress, and the messy divorce from her ex-husband Jesse James that followed her Oscar’s win.
After the magazines came a love affair with “The Bachelor” franchise. I dreamed of finding love and traveling the world (a feat I boast has come true — shoutout to my boyfriend Owen). I also became wrapped up in the drama. My first real season I kept up with was JoJo Fletchers’ season, a runner-up on Ben Higgins’ (an IU alumnus!) season. Every Monday was my escape from my 8th grade biology homework. It was an hour and 15 minutes to turn my brain off. It also gave my friends and I discussion points for the next day at school. Villain Chad Johnson quite literally lived up to his name with his bullying and affinity for meat. It was the constant loop of drama that became addicting.
After a year’s long love affair with the franchise, in 2020 I had sworn off reality TV and become a self-proclaimed pretentious cinephile. The pandemic changed the genre for me. I no longer wanted to watch “The Real Housewives of New York” jet off to St. John aka “Scary Island.” I felt jaded by my lack of freedom to roam as I pleased and took to the more serious titles (Damien Chazelle’s “Whiplash” should NOT be a comfort film).
I hadn’t felt a pull to the screen until season 10 of “Vanderpump Rules.” Tom Sandoval was not a familiar name to me until I learned of the perfectly named “Scandoval.” Stars of the series Tom Sandoval and Ariana Madix had dated for nine years. That was until Madix discovered that Sandoval had been cheating on her with one of her best friends, Raquel Leviss. From that moment on, I listened to every podcast, watched every TikTok and kept a close watch on the cast’s Instagram stories, desperately waiting for an update.
How is it that I can become so enamored with people whom I have never met? 10 seasons of “Vanderpump Rules” had gone on without my attention and all it took was one dramatic scandal to hook me in. Here lies the beauty of reality television.
There is a joy in pining for the next episode. The ability to watch something live and discuss with friends after is something that streaming services have stripped from us. There is also joy in the absurd. The crazy songs that “The Real Housewives” write (my personal favorite being “Money Can’t Buy You Class by Countess Luann,) “The Bachelor” franchise’s competition style group dates (no one should box for a man’s attention) or the truly insane people they find for the shows (Harry Jowsey is reality TV gold, it’s no wonder he is in every show.)
With new shows like “The Golden Bachelorette” and “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives,” it seems like there is something for everyone. This is what makes reality television so special, it is accessible and mindless, giving us someone to root for and if you’re Tom Sandoval, someone to hate.
