Here I am 31, encroaching on 32, still single. A generation or so ago I would have been considered to be left on the shelf, and not necessarily the top shelf, which is what I would have preferred. But rather than wallow in self pity I tune into TV Tuesday nights. And what I don’t learn about relationships there I learn from my cats.

A long time advocate of Ladette to Lady the current “Aussie” series, I have to say with a touch of pride, is the best yet. And before a bunch of boring naysayers assume I’ve mistaken embarrassment for pride, can I highlight their comradeship (forgetting that blight of tall poppy syndrome when Skye was made prefect). Their laidback laughable approach to the mostly redundant tasks and the misfortunes involved while partaking in those tasks is simply endearing. Succeed or fail they have an undeniably Australian quality that has for the first time been witnessed on this trashy truism they call entertainment.  

But if Ladette to Lady is to be believed, my only chance at meeting Mr Right is to fixate on arranging flowers or fearlessly cooking elaborate French wedding cakes. I am going to pretend that cake decorating was never my forte, but I will say hay fever is perpetually prevalent at this time of year, so forget flower arranging. The sneezes and sniffles stifle my brainwaves and it looks like I’ve been bawling, which in my effort to “control my emotions” and be “ladylike” kind of defeats the purpose. But what have I learnt about relationships from this must-see TV, well maybe the cat-bum clan (RE: Gill Harbord and company) are trying to conform our gals into “fuck-dolls for men’s pleasure”, but in terms of relationships the only light at the end of the tunnel vision was Skye. The blondest, the most voluptuous, the one that brought the cheesiest quality to the final speeches, she seemed to be the only one migrating toward landing her man. Thanks cat-bum & co. but I certainly can’t say I’ve learned anything from that little lesson, but I would like to chat with your producers about my idea for a new series… Lady to Ladette.

I missed The Secret Diary of a Call Girl last week, a program I am finding difficult to define the appeal of. Is it the storyline? Maybe the confident, sexy, sensuous and unapologetic Belle/Hannah character? Or is it the groovy theme song? Without glamorising the worlds oldest profession (whoops I think Channel 9 beat me to it) when you weigh-up the risks involved, i.e. STDs, potential violence and regretfully unattractive partners (which all can be reduced with condoms, fluffy pink handcuffs and plenty of vodka), Belle/Hannah may have the ideal relationship(s). Multiple partners (why not, its every single mans right is it not?) plus she gets to do the spread-eagle in bed after the fact (because they pay by the hour and go home after the act).  

OK so some women love sharing the bed, the cuddle after sex only hampered by their partner’s willingness to snore post-coitus. But it would seem that in this current era of believably progressive but unbelievable regressive feminism (if the truth finally be told) the belief that all women want to cuddle after the fact is closely followed by the non-reality that we all secretly want to snog other women. A sweat covered sticky envelope is never on my shopping list or most of my girlfriends. Oh… and she gets paid. Come on, tell me there is not one person amongst us that hasn’t for at least one second contemplated the potential, the possibilities.

But The Secret Diary of a Call Girl finished up last week and so now we are back to the real quality reality programs that have lasted the distance… Bridezilla. Nicki has eight bridesmaids and eight groomsmen as well as junior bridesmaids, junior groomsmen, and flower girls. But her tribe is outdone by Marcia’s bridal party of 30. To be honest I am a little surprised that these women have that many friends. As Marcia rages at one of her (I’m sure) unwilling bridesmaids I am left wondering whether she missed that last episode of Ladette to Lady. Not one to control her emotions Marcia also lashes out at the shop assistant for touching her beloved engagement rock “You know you aint supposed to touch people’s rings when you look at it, that’s rude”. I was busy shooing the kitten off the bench during that outburst so wasn’t sure if she was referring to the rectal variety or what. Gill Harbord would certainly disapprove.

Meanwhile young Nicki sees red and experiences her first anxiety attack, all because her groom has lost his ID (which one cant help suspect was stolen by the producers in order to make slightly watchable TV). But it is Marcia that takes the icing on the cake, the not so sweet punch line… “I am the number one, beside God” makes compelling viewing for late night TV.

But inhumane as Marcia is its Nicki that is involved in what more closely resembles a relationship (Marcia’s may work if she undergoes an exorcism). Essentially the blonde bombshell is not so bad. She bought her dress three years ago (which does seem a little desperate) yet there was no evidence of any eggwhite diet or finger-down-throat action throughout the entire episode. For what its worth she was confident in herself and her relationship. And she should have been comfortable with the fact that if they ran out of plates at the wedding she could easily eat the cake straight of her ample bosom. 

So in summary, Tuesday night TV has taught me that if I stick my chest out, tell porky pies, and pop Sudafed (to enable flower arranging) I potentially one day will get married and live happily ever after and perhaps even get paid for it. As engrossing as these programs are I am led to look to my cats for relationship advice. In the past two hours I have jumped up on at least five occasions to remove my kitten (Little Smigs) from the kitchen bench. It would seem he is very intent on doing the dishes.

Tune in tonight…9.30pm

  Did anyone else pick-up something I may have missed from these programs? Was there any other life lessons I should have absorbed (coded satanic verse even?)? If so please let me know by leaving a comment below…. Dr Zeus (?!)