She put her best Stiletto forward, wearing a silver gown and speaking flawless French. It prompted Bachelor Travis to call their meeting "the best introduction of the night."

Minutes later, Allie, a 33-year-old oncologist from Florida, told Travis that she's in the "reproductive stage" of her life and then informed fellow contestants that her "eggs are rotting."

When Travis dismissed Allie from the show that night, she demanded a reason, lamenting that online dating also had failed and resigning herself to a convent.

ABC's premiere of "The Bachelor: Paris" last January captured an incredibly rapid unraveling. Six million viewers were shocked and awed: How could this woman go from poised to pathetic in a matter of minutes?

The women who did make the cut also experienced sudden transformations. How quickly a few dry conversations and a steamy hot tub encounter with the bachelor could propel them from strangers to soulmates!

This show may entertain young singles, but it certainly doesn't provide us a helpful example. On the contrary, according to Pope Benedict's encyclical, "God is love."

"An intoxicated and undisciplined eros," the pontiff wrote, "is not an ascent in 'ecstasy' toward the Divine, but a fall, a degradation of man."

John Grabowski, a theology professor at the Catholic University of America who serves as an advisor for the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops' Committee on Marriage and Family, agrees.

Shows like "The Bachelor," he told me, "compound the unrealism of our culture. What they convey is that marriage is finding a soul mate. There's the eHarmony language, so if you find someone you click with, that's all that matters."

What really matters, he said, is less romantic. It's waking up to messy hair and bad breath and recommitting to that mate every morning. It's leaning on God's grace when the honeymoon ends and the house payments begin.

Grabowski speaks from experience: 21 years of holy matrimony. "Being able to share your life, have a family, build a home with someone," he said, "it's more work but it's also more reward than I expected 20-some years ago going in with rose-colored glasses."

Contestants of "The Bachelor" view marriage through crimson glasses, tinted by the warm glow of the camera and the heady prospect of fame. That helps explains why, after nine seasons, only one romance remains intact.

Fame and marital success seem to have an inverse relationship. An Oscar has become to be a precursor for divorce. Just look at Hilary Swank and Reese Witherspoon. Accolades pour in, fueling the thought: I've got more options now.

And the covenant of marriage is reduced to an internship.

The impact of this Tinseltown trend on TV viewers should be examined in marriage preparation, the Archdiocese of Los Angeles aptly notes: "It is critical to address the role of media and the importance of media education at this stage. So often the role models, values, expectations, etc. that were at one time taught in the home are now profoundly impacted by TV, movies and music of today's young people."

That's true whether you live in Los Angeles or Des Moines.

Marriages sever when they're based on self worship, rather than self sacrifice. That's the secret my grandparents told me on the eve of their 50th wedding anniversary. It's a tip a monsignor told them when they were engaged. "Don't go 50/50," Grandma relayed. "Go 60/40."

Then she paused to point out to Grandpa that the Pringles they were nibbling were low fat. She had purchased them for his new heart-healthy diet.

And there it is: less glamorous than "The Bachelor," but endearing. And enduring.

Christina Capecchi of Inver Grove Heights, Minn., is earning her master's degree in Chicago. Email her at christinacap@gmail.com.