Elimidate Part 1
*For those that don’t already know, Elimidate was one of the best original reality dating shows. It was basically just 1 guy or girl and 4 contendors. There wasn’t any prize really. They just went to bars, drank a lot, and each “round” one of the contendors was “elimidated” until there was one remaining winner. That was it.
It was only after opening the mail on Thursday did I realize that my life had exhausted all meaning. I had been accepted as a contestant on Elimidate. It wasn’t so much the pink cartoon font filling the letter that convinced me I had reached some plateau, but rather the fact that I took this as a sign from God that she was out there. Yes, my one true love was indeed a contestant on a game show meant to be watched by the helplessly alcoholic. It was a surprising disappointment, much like a punch to the groin by a temper-indulgent four-year-old.
However, true love is a complicated investment. Before engaging in any life-altering decisions such as ones spiritual mate, one should always weigh the facts against the fantasies. It’s incredibly easy to attribute any single event in one’s life to a sign of some sort. This Quixotie-esq journey for true love was guided only by signs from above. Because of this major handicap, I had to rely on intense reflection and brutal honesty. If something was simply a natural phenomenon, I had to pass it as a normal aspect of existence, whether I wanted it to be or not.
Being selected to compete on the show Elimidate is no small achievement. On average, only five percent of all male applicants are chosen to participate in the show’s extensive history. On the other hand, fifty-five percent of all female applicants are chosen to participate on the show. Already, it seems that my birthright as a male, throwing me into the less likely population of selections, shows some indication of forces at play here. I sipped my Dannon Natural Spring Water and considered the situation further.
The validity of signs can often be determined by reflecting on their roots. The first time I had watched Elimidate was seven years ago, at the age of sixteen. I remember that night well because I was having trouble getting aroused with my own imagination. With the lack of any pornography that would work, I was surfing the cheap channels desperately searching for something. Suddenly, my eyes happened on the sloppy dramatic make-out session common to the second round of Elimidate. At that moment, I felt a package of hormones leave the base of my brain as though they had gotten jammed in the elbow of a blood vessel. I’ve often thought about why Elimidate did the trick when no aspect of real pornography could. Reason has shown that it’s the combination of realism and smut that makes this show so alluring to the animalistic senses. On the one hand, the girls sexually act in a way very similar to the pornographically defined “slut.” Their kisses and hand activity display a dramatic aspect unlike any sexual advances seen on a real first date. However, the girls on Elimidate still retain some physical imperfections as well as the low self-image and self-esteem common to most haphazard and moderately intoxicated sexual experiences. Actresses in a porno lose a sense of realism because they no longer retain that low self-image. They seem to have too much confidence in their bodies, while the girls on Elimidate have practically no confidence in their bodies at all. That is so much more realistic, and so much more alluring.
Only after two years did I watch the show again. Somewhere in those dark ages there was a ridiculous relationship followed by a very vague yet vicious riot of insults. That same night, I watched alcoholic television in a comfortable shell of loathing. And without warning, Elimidate relieved me of the bondage of self. The complex truths evident in a Shakespearian battle over a single beating heart struck an inner chord. The lack of chivalry, grossly over-valued instances of sloppy tongue sucking, ego-infested swords rapidly inserted into untreated anorexic and steroid-poisoned backs, public urination over the absolute idea of honor among thieves, and a fabulously happy ending mirrored life’s quest for true love so profoundly that I became a salivating Elimidate-hungry dog.
By Friday morning I had realized the important trinity of this God-given direction. As with all other holy signs in one life, it was a culmination of three events, somewhat of a tri-eclipse in one’s life. The loss of love, the loss of sexual drive, and the realization that the quest for true love could actually be summed up in less than sixty minutes rammed horns in the coliseum titled “Elimidate.” It was as if I had simply to choose between the door containing the lion, and that containing the love of my life. However, this time there were four doors, and they all contained sluts.
I laid the Elimidate packet in the center of my wooden kitchen table. As I ate my carb-less UnFrosted Flakes, I stared at the fine print. Since the big date was going to occur in my hometown Boston, I didn’t require a plane ticket or any special reservations. It required only a short taxi ride to the south Boston subway station so preparations were simple. Simple yet ridiculously complex: “You will meat the Tri-State Elimidate© producer at the South Boston Subway station at 9:30 a.m on Saturday June 13th. Be prepared with bathing suit, one (1) full change of clothing, and three (3) forms of identification, as well as the certificate of authenticity attached. Money ($$$) is recommended but not required, as well as any personal communication devices such as cellular phones or pagers. Specific guidelines on preparing for the day of the show is (sic) listed below:”
