November 17th, 2007
Author : Sean T. Rogers
She can read reality television with uncanny ability. Five minutes into the program she knows that the gay chef, the one with the balding mohawk, will be asked to leave, told to pack his knives. The vagaries of throwaway statements are her tealeaves. She sees the expressions of judges, the subtleties of editing. She never misses. The selected tearfully packs his knives, as was preordained.
She can read reality television and this week she watches from Nashville, from The Grand Ole Opry Hotel, where she is attending a trade show. She and a workmate buy six-packs and watch the program in their hotel room. She boasts of her talent, predicts, and once again is right. The tough girl, the one with the streak in her hair, the one that got into all the fights, packs her tools.
She can read reality television but he cannot. At home, he packs his belongings, looks around the apartment, pats the dog on the head one last time. Thereâ€™s no need to write a note. She will not be surprised to find him gone, having deciphered the signs. She can read reality and will already know.