I was sitting at our weekly poker game last Tuesday when Bob mentioned something about a reality dating show, and the whole table went silent. Then someone changed the subject fast. Real fast.

It got me thinking about how many people I know who clearly watch reality TV but act like they’ve never even heard of it. My daughter Emma does this thing where she’ll casually mention something that happened on a show, then immediately add “or so I heard” like she’s citing a news report.

Look, I’ll admit it. I watch some reality TV. Started during my early retirement years when I was home more, flipping channels, and got sucked into a home renovation show. Then another. Before I knew it, I was invested in whether strangers I’d never meet would choose the house with the better kitchen.

But here’s what fascinates me: the number of people who love these shows but treat it like some guilty secret they need to hide from their friends. And they all seem to display remarkably similar behaviors when they’re trying to keep their viewing habits under wraps.

1) They develop selective memory about their evenings

Ever notice how some folks get really vague when you ask what they did last night?

“Oh, you know, just relaxed at home.”

“Caught up on some stuff.”

“Nothing much, really.”

Meanwhile, you know for a fact they were glued to three hours of back-to-back reality programming because they accidentally mentioned a contestant’s name earlier in the conversation.

I’ve watched my neighbor do this dance for years. She’ll be incredibly specific about her yoga class or her book club meeting, but ask what she did on a Wednesday night and suddenly her memory gets fuzzy. It’s not that she’s lying exactly. She’s just… strategically forgetting.

The thing is, this selective amnesia only applies to certain activities. She can remember every detail of her weekend hiking trip or the documentary she watched on Netflix. But those reality show hours? They vanish into some black hole of her memory when friends are asking.

2) They know way too much about “pop culture” for someone who doesn’t watch

Here’s where it gets interesting.

These same people who claim they “don’t really watch that stuff” can somehow discuss the latest drama, the controversial elimination, or the shocking finale twist with remarkable accuracy. They just frame it differently.

“I saw something about it on social media.”

“My coworker was talking about it.”

“It was in the news somewhere.”

As if major news outlets are dedicating serious coverage to who got voted off the island this week. I learned about this behavior from my son Michael, who used to insist he only knew about certain shows because his wife watched them. Funny how he always seemed to be in the room during the dramatic moments, phone mysteriously in hand, “not really paying attention.”

The knowledge is too detailed, too current, and too invested to come from casual osmosis. But the cover story remains consistent.

3) They get defensive when the topic comes up

Mention reality TV in a group setting and watch what happens.

Some people will laugh and admit they watch. Others will roll their eyes and say it’s garbage. But there’s a third group that gets oddly defensive before anyone’s even criticized it.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s hurting anyone.”

“People watch all kinds of things.”

“At least it’s more honest than scripted drama.”

Nobody accused them of anything. Nobody said watching was wrong. But they’re already mounting a defense like they’re on trial. During my time in middle management, I saw this same behavior when someone was hiding something minor but felt guilty about it. The preemptive justification is a dead giveaway.

I caught myself doing this once at a family dinner when Sarah mentioned a cooking competition show. I immediately launched into a whole speech about how these shows are actually teaching valuable skills and bringing families together. She just wanted to know if I’d seen the episode. I hadn’t fooled anyone.

4) Their “background noise” is suspiciously specific

This one makes me chuckle every time.

“Oh, I just have it on in the background while I’m doing other things.”

Sure. You’re folding laundry while simultaneously tracking three different storylines, four romantic connections, and remembering everyone’s backstory from six episodes ago. That’s some impressive multitasking for something you’re “barely paying attention to.”

I’ve used this excuse myself. Told my wife I was just having a home improvement show on while I organized my woodworking tools in the garage. Except I’d stopped organizing twenty minutes in and was now fully invested in whether they’d go with the granite or the quartz countertops.

The background noise excuse is brilliant, really. It allows you to watch without admitting you’re watching. You’re technically present for the show, but you’re framing it as incidental rather than intentional.

5) They’re mysteriously unavailable during specific time slots

Wednesday nights at 8 PM? Can’t meet then.

Thursday at 9? Sorry, have a standing commitment.

They won’t tell you what the commitment is, exactly. It’s just… a thing. A regular thing. That they absolutely cannot miss or reschedule.

My friend from the literacy center does this. She’s available for volunteer shifts any day, any time, except for certain hours on certain days. When pressed, she’ll say something vague about “personal time” or “a routine I’ve established.”

Look, I respect anyone’s right to their personal time. But the pattern is unmistakable. These aren’t random unavailable hours. They align perfectly with when certain shows air. And if you suggest meeting an hour later, suddenly they’re free again. The “commitment” has mysteriously ended.

6) They have strong opinions about shows they claim not to watch

This might be my favorite contradiction.

“I don’t watch that show, but the judges are too harsh.”

“I’ve never seen it, but that contestant should’ve won.”

“I don’t follow it, but the editing this season is terrible.”

Wait. How do you know about the editing if you don’t watch? How do you have such a specific opinion about judging styles on a show you’ve “never seen”? And how do you know who should have won a competition you weren’t following?

As I covered in a previous post, we humans are not always the most consistent creatures. We want to maintain a certain image while also expressing our genuine opinions. Sometimes these two desires crash into each other in spectacular fashion.

I once heard someone at my chess group spend ten minutes analyzing the strategic mistakes of contestants on a survival reality show, then catch himself and add, “or so I’ve been told.” By whom? A very detailed consultant on reality TV strategy?

7) They navigate conversations with surgical precision

Watch someone who secretly loves reality TV in a group conversation about television. They’re like a surgeon with a scalpel, carefully directing the discussion.

If the conversation drifts toward their favorite reality show, they’ll participate just enough to seem informed but not so much that they reveal their expertise. They’ll ask leading questions that get others to share information, letting them stay engaged without exposing their own viewing habits.

“Oh really? What happened then?”

“I think I heard something about that. What was the full story?”

“Didn’t someone get eliminated? How did that go down?”

They’re gathering intelligence while maintaining plausible deniability. During my thirty-five years in the insurance business, I learned to spot these conversational tactics. People use them in meetings all the time when they want information but don’t want to admit how much they already know.

The really skilled ones will even occasionally criticize an aspect of the show to throw people off the scent. “That sounds kind of stupid, honestly.” But then they’ll keep asking questions, keeping the conversation alive just a bit longer.

8) Their streaming history tells a different story

Here’s where the digital age betrays the secret reality TV lover.

Many streaming services now have “continue watching” features or “because you watched” recommendations that appear when you log in. And these features don’t lie.

I’ve been at friends’ houses when they’ve pulled up their streaming service to find something to watch, and there it is: rows and rows of reality programming in their history. They’ll quickly scroll past it, maybe make a joke about their kids using their account, or blame it on a visiting relative.

But we all know. The algorithm knows. And the algorithm doesn’t recommend three seasons of competitive baking shows because someone else in the house watched one episode.

My grandson taught me this when he was showing me how to use one of these streaming apps. He said you can always tell what someone really watches by looking at their recommendations. “The computer doesn’t care what you tell your friends, Grandpa. It just knows what you actually click on.”

Smart kid.

9) They’re oddly well-versed in “guilty pleasure” defense arguments

Finally, the people who secretly love reality TV often have sophisticated, well-rehearsed arguments about why guilty pleasures are actually valid and important.

They’ll cite psychological research about the need for escapism. They’ll talk about work-life balance and the importance of “turning your brain off.” They’ll mention studies about parasocial relationships or the anthropological value of observing human behavior in controlled environments.

These are not casual thoughts. These are defense mechanisms that have been carefully constructed over time.

I recognize this because I’ve done it myself. After my heart scare at fifty-eight, I started thinking a lot about stress and relaxation. And I’ve definitely used “doctor’s orders to reduce stress” as justification for watching people compete in ridiculous challenges on an island somewhere. It’s not entirely untrue. But it’s also not the whole story.

The whole story is simpler: sometimes these shows are entertaining, and that’s enough. But admitting that feels harder than building an entire philosophical framework about the value of mindless entertainment.

Conclusion

Why do we do this to ourselves?

I think it comes down to how we want to be perceived versus what we actually enjoy. We’ve created these mental categories of “respectable” entertainment and “lowbrow” entertainment, and we’re afraid of being judged for falling into the wrong camp.

But here’s what I’ve learned in my sixty-something years: life’s too short to pretend you don’t like something just because you think you’re supposed to have better taste. If watching people renovate houses or compete in cooking challenges brings you joy, that’s valuable. Entertainment doesn’t always have to be educational or sophisticated to be worthwhile.

So maybe it’s time we all relaxed a bit about our viewing habits. Watch what you want. Enjoy what you enjoy. And if someone judges you for it, well, that says more about them than it does about you.

What would happen if you just admitted what you really watch?