Six days ago, Shaun and I were sitting in a green room, and I said to him, “These people are all really nice to us… they seem to like us and to respect our ‘lifestyle.’ And I think they probably do like and respect us, because what’s not to like? But what’s bothering me is that even if they thought were were immature, immoral people who are destroying the fabric of America, I believe they’d be behaving in exactly the same way.”
After our appearance on the show, when we were roundly scolded by Father Albert and the audience, I said something very similar. “He probably does disapprove of us and think committed relationships should be exclusive and that we’re making destructive choices. But if I found out afterward that in his private life he thinks open relationships are terrific, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.”
The whole time we were on the set, it was clear to me that everything was a performance. The words, the gestures, the attitudes… perhaps they agreed with the performer’s underlying feelings, but if so it was little more than coincidence. Everything was deliberate and dramatized, designed to produce an effect.
Shaun felt that Father Albert was cold and hostile to him; what I felt was that he was simply not present, with either of us. He was focused on his performance, and our presence there as human beings wasn’t really relevant. Much of the audience probably perceived him as warm and present, because he was playing to them. When he asked us a harsh question, he barely met our eyes.
When we got offstage, my impression of its all having been performance was solidified by the way everybody treated us. They were friendly, they were smiling, they were exactly the same in manner as they’d been before the show. You’d never know that we’d just been excoriated onstage. It wasn’t real, you see. We were stage villains, playing a part, and there was no more hostility between us and them than there is between actors playing Macbeth and MacDuff.
I haven’t said much about it here, but I hate and have always hated reality TV. I love fiction, I love drama, I love playing make-believe; but I have always suspected, and now I know, that dramatic “reality-based” television is the worst kind of lie. It is fiction pretending to be reality. Lies and truth are so intermingled as to be nearly indistinguishable.
We were told, the whole time leading up to our appearance onstage, that we were just there to tell our story. To explain our non-monogamous relationship and to tell people how and why it works for us. I am not naïve, so I was prepared for a surprise, but what’s bothering me now is that I don’t know, and probably never will know, exactly where the deception took place. Were Jen and Steph, the women I thought of as our “handlers,” misled by the producers? Were they simply flatly lying to us? Was there a change of plan at some point and a decision not to tell us? Did Father Albert go off-book? My guess is that they hadn’t decided until, say, late Thursday night or Friday morning exactly what angle they were going to take, and that having decided, they avoided telling us for one of many reasons. I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter. But the fact that it doesn’t matter is strange to me. Usually when someone lies to me or conspires against me, it’s recognized by both of us that we are enemies. Here, it’s just the way they do business, so it doesn’t matter who exactly was doing the lying and conspiring.
The audience was nearly unanimously against us and booed and hissed at most of what we had to say, with one exception. I said at one point, “I don’t have to worry about Shaun looking at other women behind my back, because he’s doing it in front of my face.” At which the audience — largely composed of women — gave a collected “ohhh!” of recognition and understanding. I wish I could have explained myself further, because in retrospect many of them probably interpreted that statement as “I know he’s going to check out other women because he’s a man and all men are pigs, but I prefer the security of knowing what he’s thinking.” Which is not at all what I meant. What I meant was, “I know he’s going to check out other women because he’s human and being in love with one person does not automatically turn off your interest in other people… and I want to know him, as he is, not someone he pretends to be, even with the best of intentions. And his attractions, the women he finds beautiful, the pain of rejection and the joy of connection, are all part of who he is, and so I want to know these things too.” That’s what I’d have liked to say.
I hate reality TV because I love reality. Truth, pure and unfiltered, is probably unattainable to human minds, but I want to come as close to it as possible. I want to know the reality of Shaun’s mind and his heart, even the things that have the potential to make me jealous or insecure. I don’t at all regret going on the show, but in the week since I have almost wept with gratitude for the openness and sincerity of our relationship.