Realities of Reality Dating 

Located in the fringe of both time slots and programming options, dating programs like Blind Date, elimiDate, and The 5th Wheel are notorious for low production values and arguably equally low moral values. Placed into obviously tantalizing situations involving jacuzzis, massage tables, and other clichés of sexual availability, unusually attractive men and women vie not for a date as the name of the genre suggests, but rather sexual satisfaction. The “date” becomes synonymous with foreplay in these vignettes as men and women try on different partners hoping to locate sexual if not emotional compatibility, suggesting to audiences that getting naked is oftentimes the first successful step in getting a date.

Real Lessons Learned

Every girl knows that in order to get a date with a buffed and bronzed single guy you first have to engage in some hot and heavy petting with another female. And everyone, guys and gals alike, knows that a first date entails stripping down and hopping in the nearest hot tub, engaging in awkward conversations about sexual fetishes, drinking as much alcohol as possible, and fending off three competing suitors with catty comments. Sometimes at the same time. At least these are things you would know if you watched dating reality programs.

Like other reality programs, syndicated television shows like Blind Date, elimiDate, and the recently (mercifully) cancelled The 5th Wheel take great license with the term reality. Part game show, part reality documentary, these half hour forays into the single and mostly unfabulous, yet extremely telegenic, lives of twenty- and thirty-something urbanites reflect reality as defined by producers and editors as much as by participants and audiences. Sure it’s “real,” but who’s “real” is just as debatable as that other great mystery in dating reality programs, as one recent “star” put it, “are those breasts real or real expensive?”

Kicking classic dating and relationship programs like The Dating Game or Newlyweds to the next hyper-exploitative level, not only do dating reality programs turn finding love (and more often sex) into a game, but also as audiences we are no longer limited to hearing articulations of solely hypothetical situations (“The wildest thing I would do on a first date is..” ). Instead, we actually get to see the clothes come off, the inhibitions get lowered, and the drama unfurl. As one competitor on elimiDate explained after one of three girls vying for his affection leaned over to plant an open mouth kiss, “Actions speak louder than words, and that’s good action.” With countless priceless moments like these, it is no wonder that dating reality programs have become a staple of syndicated late night fringe programming.

With only twenty-two minutes to finish a date or two, these reality dating programs skip past the usual first date fodder of family, employment, and favorite recreational pastimes and get right to what most audiences are interested in hearing : talk about sex. After all, it is sex, and not how many siblings a potential mate has, that sells. While there are variations in the format of programs within this genre, the one overarching theme that plays out episode after episode is that in order to win a date there must be overwhelming sexual attraction. These programs aren’t as much about vying for dates or relationships as they are about searching for sexual satisfaction. Sex, like dating, love, and other human contact, is nothing more than a game. The real importance of these programs is that in the absence of other formal education or instruction about courtship, the made-for-television antics of these sexually charged studs and vixens is an important primer in what is expected in order to successfully navigate the singles scene.

Blind Date, the original and most successful of the pack of reality dating programs, works with the simplest formula. Two sultry (at least in their own eyes) singles meet up and follow a predictable itinerary that includes an activity, some cocktails, and some food. Antics and cameras follow. Blind Date doesn’t take itself very seriously, and no one should assume that its core audience of late night TV viewers does either. Roger Lodge, the understated host who introduces and wraps up the dates makes it clear that the singles are nymphos, psychos, or simply delusional losers. As Lodge said following one particularly painful outing, “Let the stalking begin.” Like Lodge’s comments, alternating witty and insipid onscreen graphics take the pressure off the viewer of having to critique the date. “This kid has more issues than the New York Times,” read one recent pop-up comment. Clever indeed.

With two dates and some “best of” clips crammed into every episode, Blind Date doesn’t have much time to delve into the personalities of the daters, assuming, of course, that the typically attractive participants have discernable personalities to comment on. Instead, the pace of the program is geared toward the money shot or at least tantalizing discussions, which seem more appropriate for a locker room than a dinner table. Blind Date also wastes no time cornering the two romance seekers into marked identities. She’s a nympho, he’s a conservative family man, or he’s a rugged athlete and she’s a princess. Let the game begin.

The game of elimiDate is more explicitly competitive. Three contestant daters scheme, fight, and fondle their way to the winner's circle by being the last man or woman standing. The “picker” eliminates one potential date each round with the program’s unique contribution to the English language, “I’m sorry, but you’ve been elimiDated.” Each round on elimiDate involves a different activity, but the conversation is largely the same. The contestants challenge each other and do what they can to eliminate, errr elimiDate, the competition.

With three potential partners fighting for the attention of the “picker,” moments where the contestants are able to steal the “picker” into a semi-noisy corner of a noisy bar and prove their qualifications to be a winner by showing that they can kiss and fondle with great skill are make or break moments. Should private time be impossible to secure, Plan B entails simply making out with the “picker” in front of the other contestants. On a recent episode, so crucial was this ritual exchange of saliva that a male contestant losing the competition due to his exceedingly bland personality was able to put himself in the lead with one prolonged make-out session.

Along with reality dating programs of the recent past like The 5th Wheel and Shipmates (yup, reality dating set on a cruise ship), what unifies Blind Date and elimiDate is not only the shocking lack of restraint on the part of the camera hungry singles, but also how these programs all help rewrite the cultural script on dating. There is no prize for winning these programs other than the potential for a second date. And in many cases calling a second date a prize is a dubious proposition. Regardless, these dating programs all tell us that a passionate kiss and embrace (or more) is not what comes at the end of the date but rather what needs to happen (and happen well, natch) before you even win a date. Likewise, it is sexual compatibility that trumps emotional, personal, or any other sort of compatibility.

Dating in the hypersexual universe of dating reality game shows is more akin to foreplay than anything that resembles dating. There is, of course, nothing wrong with sexually liberated young adults. In fact, some viewers might actually applaud that women and men, comfortable in their sexual skin, can articulate and discuss what makes their libidos hum. However, this being commercial television, such progressive readings are generally thwarted. There is a fine line in the world of reality dating between not knowing how to have a good time and being a slut. Generally, the most promiscuous contestants win, the lesson learned being that in order to get a date you first have to get naked. At the end of an episode of elimiDate, for instance, after being cut for not engaging in some heavy saliva exchange and naughty whispers, one female contestant said to the guy who made the cut, “Be sure to wear a condom.”

“We will,” blurted the winning girl, now fully grabbing the guy she just won. Perhaps not all lessons of reality dating are that bad after all.

David Gudelunas is an assistant professor of communication at Fairfield University in Fairfield, CT. He received his master’s and doctorate degrees from the Annenberg School for Communication at the University of Pennsylvania. He is the author of several articles on sexuality and culture and is currently pitching a manuscript on the history of the newspaper advice column as a forum for sexual discourse. He lives in New York City.