So apparently Jake and what’s-her-name from The Bachelor have ended their relationship, in spite of the fact that it happened On the Wings of Love. I have never watched the show, or its companion The Bachelorette, or really any of the copycat mate-winnowing game shows littered across the cable landscape. The only reason I spotted Jake’s name on the “news” headline was because of my ongoing Dancing With the Stars obsession.
So I don’t exactly care about the sundered love. It’s the track record that fascinates me. There have now been 14 seasons of The Bachelor in the last eight years, and only one couple forged by that show (not even the four the article claims. One.) is actually still romantically involved. And, per Wikipedia, it’s the one where the Bachelor abandoned the “winner” he had selected (Melissa Rycroft, another future DWTS contestant) after changing his mind and deciding his true love was the runner-up. So even claiming a 1/14 success rate over an eight-year span only counts due to a technicality.
Meanwhile, over on The Bachelorette, there have been a total of five seasons, and two of those couples are still involved – though one of the two came together less than a year ago and are not yet married, so it might be premature to call it a success.
It is not unique to television matchmaking that relationships, both prospective and committed, end. They end CONSTANTLY. Over an eight-year span, I wonder just what percentage of American adults are still with the same romantic partners by the end – 50%? Less? Stars of the show might have the benefit of selecting from dozens of pre-screened, demographically-prime candidates all competing feverishly to show their best side, but it’s clear that the mechanism has not improved on real life for helping people find a “right” partner for the long haul. In fact, it arguably makes it worse – once you’ve tasted the pattern of being flown to exotic locations for network-funded super-dates, surrounded by beautiful singles fawning over you, with millions more admiring you by proxy – how do you settle in for Pizza-and-a-DVD night in your torn PJs with a single mate who is not having their hair professionally done every day anymore? How does all that soft-focus glamour help them negotiate chores for the week?
But if the second of those two Bachelorette relationships holds, we’ll really have a chance to learn something, because that will be 2/5 – a 40% success rate, compared with The Bachelor‘s dismal 7%. Does that mean that women, when in a position of power to choose, make better long-term romantic choices? Or do they just commit more to the choices they make?
And the final point of interest for me is that this track record seems to have absolutely no impact on the show’s popularity. American audiences seem perfectly willing to adopt a form of voluntary amnesia, moving from one image of picturesque romance to another without ever acknowledging that THEY’RE ALL FAILING. Getting a rose doesn’t mean the next fifty years are going to be blissful and perfect, and having pretty dates by candlelight don’t make the feelings involved any more true or profound; or capable of dealing with a flat tire or a sick baby.
Does this encourage fickleness? Neurosis? Serial monogamy? The mis-valuing of sculpted romantic “moments” over the qualities that might actually produce a well-functioning long-term relationship? It’s like in all this emphasis on creating what we’ve deemed to be a sufficient level of constant magic we’re actually herding people away from lifelong commitments. Whether that’s good or bad is for our culture to decide, but it is so very curious that this is the outcome of a show built on the premise that TV can script progress to a real-life marriage proposal, with just enough contestants, makeup, and sponsors.