When reality TV is more real than reality

[I’m exploring 100 podcasts and writing what I learn. This is No. 34.]

In one episode of Seinfeld, Elaine is tasked with ghostwriting the autobiography of her boss, Mr. Peterman.

The only problem is Mr. Peterman’s everyday life seems dreadfully boring. He gets distracted by coupons and preoccupied by cable TV while Elaine is trying to interview him for the book.

So Mr. Peterman finds a shortcut. He decides to use someone else’s stories.

“Kramer, my friend, that is one ripping good yarn,” he says in response to one of Kramer’s misadventures.

“You know, if you like that one, I got more. What are you looking for?” Kramer asks. “Romance? Comedy? Adventure? Erotica?”

Peterman ultimately buys off Kramer for his whole package of life stories — for $750.

Which brings me to The Bachelorette.

I recently listened to Katie Nolan’s interview with Bachelorette contestant Jordan Rodgers on her Garbage Time podcast. Rodgers is rumored to have won the Bachelorette, though of course his contract won’t let him reveal what happens.

I don’t know why I listened, considering I’ve never seen an episode of The Bachelor or The Bachelorette. But something at the beginning of the interview hooked me.

“For me as a normal human,” Nolan says, “it’s very hard to picture these men fighting over one woman who they just met… It can’t be real because how do you fall in love with someone you’ve had two solo dates with in your life. A lot of people say that’s bullshit. What do you say to that?”

Rodgers answers how you’d expect, and explains that “no one will really understand it if you didn’t go through it.” He says he was “skeptical” that he could be himself, but that after awhile you don’t even notice the camera. He defends the authenticity of the show, and says “the relationship aspect is very untouched as far as production.”

“I know you’re looking at me like, wait, he’s brainwashed,” Rodgers admits.

Interestly, he’s quick to defend relationships he developed on-screen. But when asked about his real-world relationship with his brother — Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers — he hedges and only says, “It’s complicated.”

I have a theory. Maybe that’s because reality TV has, ironically, created a space to be more real.

So what is reality — watching The Bachelorette, or being ON The Bachelorette?

“It’s a different experience,” Rodgers says. “There are no cell phones, no TV, no internet, and you literally sit around and you develop great relationships with the guys there, and you talk about your feelings.”

“That sounds like my worst nightmare,” Nolan responds.

“In a weird way it’s one big therapy session,” Rodgers continues. “You learn as much about yourself in the process as you learn about a girl you’re starting to develop feelings for… You get good at it, which is weird.”

It’s a common criticism that reality TV isn’t actually real. The situations are artificial, the rules are strictly controlled by writers, and the final footage is tightly edited to produce heightened drama for our viewing pleasure.

But the contestants in reality TV shows — weather stranded on an island or vying against competitors to marry someone — may be experiencing something more real than what we’re consuming on TV, on Netflix or on Facebook.

We live in fictional worlds of our choosing, day after day. We devour HBO episodes, binge watch Hulu and eagerly await blockbuster movies. Even real events unfold like scenes in a play, such as the OJ Simpson biopic and documentary or prodigal son Lebron bringing a championship to his home.

Sports stars, celebrities and characters on TV become part of our own lives.

This is hardly a new revelation. But I’m listening to The Storytelling Animal and it reminds me of how much we constantly immerse and invest ourselves in other people’s stories.

In this book, Jonathan Gottschall discusses why narratives have such a strong hold over us. One of his points is that we see ourselves as the protagonists in our own stories. But in the midst of mundane day-to-day routines, identifying with protagonists like sports stars or superheroes — or yes, reality TV contestants — allow us to live vicariously through their experiences.

Which brings us back to The Bachelorette.

Reality TV stars can’t distract themselves with other people’s stories — they have to focus on their own. They become the protagonist. Without TV, internet or cell phones, they’re forced to confront their feelings and relationships.

And like Mr. Peterman, we’ll fork over to buy those stories.