Russ Batenhorst Justin time to admit Juan little mistake

It’s really been a rough week. It’s not as if I’m looking around trying to assess blame on someone for it. This is self-inflicted. It’s my own fault. Looking people in the eye is getting harder as the week progresses. If I give them too much of a chance to glimpse into me, maybe they’ll notice. For now, it’s just my own dark, dirty secret.

How do people live this way? How do they carry around the guilt, the knowledge that what they’ve done just maybe doesn’t seem right? And for others — maybe too judgmental, maybe not enough — there’s no maybe about it. It’s not right.

Nevertheless, I know. And perhaps it’s just best to come clean. To let it all out and hope others will just let me quietly live with the shame of my actions.

It started out innocently enough on Monday night. I just thought I was being a considerate husband. I didn’t think I would get caught up in the storm. By all outward appearances, it was a normal night.

I cooked dinner out on the grill since it was such a spring-like day. Dinner conversation was normal. Cleanup was routine.

Even the fact that there was a basketball game playing on the TV made it seem normal for this time of year. But I had to ruin it. I had to speak up. I can recall the words I uttered to my wife as if they were spoken just minutes ago.

“Just so you know, I saw in the listings that the season finale of ‘The Bachelor’ is on TV tonight. It should be getting close to the end.”

So, she turned the channel. And I just sat there! I knew I should have gotten up. I know I could have gone to the basement and watched basketball. Maybe even hit the treadmill. Anything but this.

But, no, I didn’t.

I just sat there and for the next 80 minutes watched “The Bachelor.”

I now know what a jerk Juan Pablo is. How he strung one poor innocent girl along right to the end before saying he wasn’t picking her to be his future wife. How he then couldn’t even commit to the one that he was actually picking, stopping short of the expected proposal but saying he didn’t want to date her.

And she fell for it!

Well, the live hour-long review show let him have it. But I digress — what I’m supposed to be doing here is admitting the shame of having watched it at all. My “man card” is in serious jeopardy.

And that’s just the half of it. Another moment of weakness came later in the week. Again, I knew what I was doing wasn’t right. I knew if others found out, I could lose everything. But there it was, right in front of me, on a website. A headline just waiting to be opened. But I shouldn’t. I won’t. I’ve refused for weeks to open anything even remotely related to his headline.

But I was weak. I did it. I clicked on a Justin Bieber story.

Right up to this moment I had stood strong, avowing that I could absolutely not care less about anything having to do with Justin Bieber, or his arrests, or his monkey or — and this can’t be understated — his music.

But they got me with the headline for a video story of his lawyer saying it’s our fault he’s in such trouble.

So I opened it, and I listened, and I hung my head in shame. Not because it’s my fault Justin’s in trouble, but because I watched the story.

Sure, I can resume going Bieber-less from now on. But I’ll always know, I’ll always remember this day. I’m not proud.

So there you have it. I caught the finale of “The Bachelor,” and I read a story about Justin Bieber.

What’s next?

Will I want to know what’s going on with the Kardashians? Am I going to be tempted to see what Honey Boo Boo has been up to? I’m traveling down a slippery slope. I may have to avoid all electronic media.

It’s really been a rough week. 

Copyright © 2015