An earlier version of this article contained a poorly-worded reference to the hair colour of Naz Khanjani. Polly Gillespie and The Herald apologise for any offence caused.
What is it that affronts me so much about that "stoopid" show and its "stoopid" contrived shock ending? Why did I avoid The Bachelor and what's more look down my nose with such snooty condemnation when anyone brought it up.
I'm a "low-grade feminist", apparently. According to "high-grade feminists" on Twitter, I'm a s**t feminist. I think the idea that women should do their utmost to help and positively affirm other women is not part of the "high-grade Twitter feminist" manifesto. I believe their creed is to spit, snarl, criticise and admonish lowbies like me. Whatever type of feminist I am, I have an uncomfortable squiggly feeling watching women crawling over each other, albeit in designer shift dresses and heels, to win the love of a man who looks like a used car salesman for Audi.
I also know how reality TV works. There's always a goodie and a baddie, and there's always a twist. It's the classic harlequin romance plot. There's the swarthy broody hairy handsome dude, the nasty long nosed brunette and the sweet innocent blonde locked in romantic combat with the long nosed cold eyed brunette, to win the heart of hairy hero guy.
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It's that "WWE wrestling real". Which is not anything like Olympic wrestling. It should have been absolutely no shock to anyone that at the end of this mediocre average rating reality ruse there would be a twist, and yet everyone, including my partner AND my ex husband, neither who's watched any of the show, and who both knew I had not only not watched it but haughtily mocked anyone who did, eagerly asked me what I thought of blondie, Jordan, and the dark-haired Naz's somehow newsworthy three way love triangle gone wrong.
My answer: what's wrong with you? How have they sucked you in? Can't you see they just want to stir up publicity for The Bachelorette, that undoubtedly they'll churn out as another series before we have time to wipe the vomit off our chins? What are you doing?
Why do I loathe it so much though? Is it truly because I don't think it's cool for women in 2016 to battle for some dude they wouldn't look twice at, at a club? Or is it that I'm scared that given the opportunity (and if I was sexy, 23, hot and blonde with the slightest ability to walk in heels) my fiercely competitive nature would allow me to play the game too? Oh I've fought for a man before, admittedly not in a weird staged beauty comp situation on the TV, but I've fought for a man. I've broken rules and used all my limited sexual skills to get what I want. So maybe I don't like my own behaviour slightly altered and mirrored back at me.
I think though that it's more that I'm intellectually irritated that anyone actually thinks it's real. But then there are people who send congratulatory cards when characters get engaged on Shortland Street too. That's a bit bloody scary eh!
Go and have a shower and wash all that BS off. Go on now and use extra soap. While you're showering off your shame, I too will atone for my sins by writing "I will not be a snooty self righteous TV snob" a thousand times on Twitter.
(Screw that! The Twitter trolls would tear me apart with their razor sharp poisonous troll fangs in moments.)
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