I bet you read the title of this and thought “Damn, Breanna, you’re a real piece of shit.” And maybe I am, but let it be known that this wish does not stem from malicious intent – I think Bret Michaels is likely a wonderful human being, and undoubtedly deserves love like the rest of us. That being said, I cannot deny how much I thoroughly enjoyed all three seasons of Rock of Love, and I’ve accepted the fact that I’d be willing to exploit both his privacy and happiness to receive more of it.
Before y’all ream me out, let it be known that I am a hair metal spazz born in 1995. Yeah, I never got to live through the glory days of spandex and Aqua Net, but I was alive and well when Rock of Love first aired in 2007. You better believe I consumed all the garbage VH1 was feeding me at the time, I could write an entire article on The Surreal Life too (and I’m sure I will at some point). It was just really cool for me seeing all these celebrities that had such a high level of importance in my personal life still being (somewhat) relevant in pop culture. Truth be told, I didn’t even know heavy metal was out until I went to public school for the first time. A disheartening reality check, leaving this incredible, trashy television show as my only solace.
Despite Bret bein’ Bret, I just really dug how totally dumb this entire show was. Y’know, most reality television tries to seem all sophisticated, but not these bonkers VH1 programs of the early-to-mid 2000s, no. They didn’t disguise that they were mindless, trashy fun and I appreciated the honesty. I mean, what other show could possibly open with this mission statement? – “Basically, what I’m trying to say is rock and roll is an insatiable bitch goddess, but I love her, and I’m just looking for that one woman in my life to participate in that threesome.”
I also must add that I absolutely love watching people get loser drunk, especially on television where I do not actually have to deal with ’em. Tiffany, a contestant on season one, is a shining example of this. In summation, she got booted before the competition even began, so this bitch literally begged and pleaded to be let back in, just so she could drink herself into a hot mess. In her drunken stupor, she unintentionally coined the best party retort I’ve heard to-date and one I’ve used frequently – “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Look, I know this shit is probably fake as hell – I certainly hope it is, given how utterly cartoonish some of the folks contending are, but my god is it ever entertaining! Each season almost has a formula to it, too. You got your party chicks that blackout and do dumb shit; You’ve got your top contender who secretly has a boyfriend that Bret finds out about and loses his shit over; And you’ve got Bret popping boners over really weird things. Seriously, everything turns him on. Even chicks crying. He is the king of the uncontrolled libido – He should embrace this, and continue pumping out seasons, right? Right.
I’ve seen folks complain about how raunchy this is, and that the whole core of the show is problematic. My question for y’all, how is this any different than The Bachelor? I’ve never watched that shit, but I’ve binged all three seasons of RoL on multiple occasions in my life and I don’t see any real issues here. Yeah, you’ve got a sea of silicone titties and dumb drama bullshit, but at least it is so bonkers that y’all can’t even connect it to reality. You can dislike this show all you want, if you don’t want to stoop down to my garbage-y level, then don’t watch it. Don’t review it, either. Leave it alone, leave Bret alone!
And Bret, if you’re in a relationship right now I highly recommend you reevaluate it – You were onto something with that whole Rock of Love Bus thing and I’m dyin’ to see more chicks touch your backstage pass/ride your limousine.
Written by Breanna Whipple