Ever since high school, I’ve been a dedicated reality TV viewer. My friends and I used to gather weekly at my house to watch The Bachelor (to the dismay of my parents—my dad made it very clear he did not condone the structure of the show. But he did support the way it brought us together…and the fact that my mom baked chocolate chip cookies to accompany our watch parties).

We always found plenty to discuss, between the love stories and heartbreak depicted each season to a shared alarm over the character ABC depicted as the season’s villain. We loved having a moment each week to be together, mostly talking over the show about the various happenings of the week prior. And with snacks, always with snacks.

In my adult life, reality TV has remained a common ground and connector. Between Love Island, Love is Blind and The Bachelor franchise, there is always something to catch up on and unpack over Slack messages with co-workers. The constant stream of episodes (and podcasts discussing the episodes) gives us endless content to discuss.

One of my favorite podcasts compares reality TV (namely, The Bachelor) to a sport. They’ve created a whole language to describe different plays the contestants can complete for certain outcomes in the “game.” They assign plays and errors of the game each episode. They break down stats (how many social media followers each contestant gains after an episode, the likelihood of getting a rose after a one-on-one date, the results of playing a “personal tragedy card” on a date to secure more time on the show). It turns out there’s a lot of strategy and skill involved in excelling in these dating games.

I love dissecting the psychology of reality TV. What drives these people to sign up for such a show? What patterns do I notice in them that I may see in myself or people close to me? It may be a time commitment, but it’s a healthier distraction than the doomscrolling. And I must admit, there’s a small part of me that enjoys these shows because they make me feel infinitely more sane in my own life and choices. All while knowing there’s no way I could ever do what they’re doing: put my life out there for the whole world to see and criticize.

Even as a novice football fan, I can confidently say there are many parallels between this sport and reality TV. There’s a rich history to both, and they involve strategy, planning, competition, and skill. They require a commitment to life in the public eye and to providing entertainment for the masses.

Football really drew me in when I learned the backstories of the players. It’s easier to root for people when you have a greater picture of their lives off the field or the ways they lead their teams to be men of great character. It’s also infinitely more fun to watch games now that Taylor Swift is in attendance. The same thing happens on reality TV: a character shares their backstory and suddenly you’re rooting for their redemption arc at all costs.

And both provide common ground that fosters community. I’ve found that discussions about reality TV forge friendships that eventually lead to deeper dives into social issues, relationship problems, and our own lives. The same can be true for football.

Both are an escape from the division we feel every day in our country; both give us something to root for, whether it’s a couple finding love (or more commonly, dramatically breaking up) or a game-winning touchdown pass. Both bring us together to celebrate or mourn a common goal—something that affects us but not with as much gravity. It feels lighter in a way that we very much need these days.

And it’s an excellent excuse to make buffalo chicken dip.

Olivia Harre

Olivia graduated from Calvin in May 2018 with a double major in business and writing. She now works as an editor in Nashville, Tennessee and is eating her way through the restaurants of her new town. She enjoys weekend trips with friends, petting other people’s dogs, and drinking coffee like a Gilmore Girl.