The day you are accepted to MTV’s The Realest World will be one of the happiest days of your life. You and your boyfriend will probably go out to celebrate. You will notice that there is something subdued or even sad in his face, but you will be too thrilled with the news to pay it any real attention. Later, as your departure approaches, you will have some fights with your boyfriend, the basic gist of such fights being if he really loves you why can’t he just be happy for you since this is what you want, versus his position that you are going to sleep with everyone in the house. Of course, at this moment all you’re thinking about is the plasma screen TV you might win when you enter The Realest World/Roadest Rules Hell Challenge after your season of RW is finished taping and tossed in the junk bin of pop culture flotsam. Your fights usually end with wistful, kind of annoyed make-up sex, since this fight just keeps happening over and over, and it’s not getting anywhere, and you’re starting to just wish you could go to Portland or Marseille, or whatever other end-of-the-Earth the producers are going to find for your season. The day you leave you really are, honestly, sad to leave your boyfriend, but you also are excited, and if it was meant to be, you think, then the two of you will weather whatever may come.
This is called a “fucking retarded idea.”
Almost as soon as you enter that over-decorated, super-illuminated compound you will find yourself attracted to one of the Abercrombie and Fitch models that has been selected for your roommate. Initially you will just pray that he’s not a fag, and when he starts asking about your boyfriend you’ll get a little excited. At first, maybe for the first half hour, you will talk about your boyfriend a lot, how long you’ve been together, how much trauma the two of you have jointly suffered, how he’s the only one who’s ever really been there for you. It is a ruse. This boy wants in your pants, and who’s to stop him? Certainly not you. You’re not big on confrontation. Eventually you pretend like the pressure was just too strong, as if anything more than a stiff sugar-rimmed daquiri and a gentle “Huh?” was needed. You give in. Later you talk to your boyfriend and get upset with HIM, turning it around on HIM, that he couldn’t be more sensitive to what you are going through. True, you cheated on him within forty-eight hours of arriving, but he doesn’t KNOW that so why is he being such a JERK.
Here is what I want you to remember: people cheat. People lie. People fool around. All-in-all, what you are doing is basically what any emotionally immature, mildly inebriated 18-25 year-old would do in your situation. Maybe you were right, maybe you should have just broken up with your boyfriend before even leaving Missouri or Wisconsin or whatever backwater they’ve brought you from to give the show a fresh-face of innocence. But you didn’t. You thought that yours would be the only relationship in the history of the show to survive the raging hormone riot that is The Realest World, with the possible exception of that really ugly girl who used to cut herself with a Hello Kitty pocketknife, but she doesn’t count because no one in the house wanted her, and she left the show early, and besides, she cheated on her boyfriend, too, he was just too much of a pussy to stand up for himself. So you’re just normal. Just as much of a terrible person as everyone else. And weak. No one blames you. But bear this in mind: when you have already slept around with one of your roommates, and when you claim that you are as attracted to said roommate as you have ever been to your boyfriend or any other guy ever, then it is not really an act of “courage” or “bravery” to leave your boyfriend. It’s not really “going out on [your] own to learn about [your]self” when you’ve got a well-muscled back-up plan waiting in your bed in his boxer shorts.