The Undeniable Appeal of Trashy Reality TV

In my living room while I’m gently coercing my baby to go to sleep, the TV screen creates a dim glow as it plays, a contestant on Single’s Inferno—a stunning, sculpted figure seemingly plucked from the Instagram explore page—gazes across a fire-lit beach, their expression a mix of longing and carefully curated mystique. A suspenseful pause, a flickering glance, and then: the big reveal. Will they choose the partner they’ve been secretly yearning for, or will they opt for a dramatic, last-minute twist?

I already know the answer. I’ve seen it before, in different forms and on different streaming platforms, yet I can’t look away.

This is the magic (or madness) of modern reality dating shows: deeply predictable, yet utterly engrossing. For all our self-proclaimed sophistication, why do we continue to surrender to the intoxicating pull of these emotionally manufactured playgrounds? The answer lies not in our guilty pleasures, but in the way these shows hold up a warped, fun-house mirror to our collective psyche.

I know I shouldn’t love them, but I do (don’t judge me!). Trashy reality dating shows on Netflix have their hooks in me, and I can't look away. They’re cringey, over-the-top, and sometimes outright ridiculous—but they’re also pure entertainment, and honestly, I think there’s something deeper going on here.

Part of the appeal is the sheer escapism. Watching impossibly attractive people fumble through the awkwardness of dating in a controlled, high-stakes environment is weirdly satisfying. It’s a mix of voyeurism and fantasy—we get to see the drama unfold, but we also get to project ourselves onto the experience. What would I do in that situation? Would I play it cool, or would I be the one embarrassing myself on international television?

Then there’s the social experiment aspect. These shows act as a kind of human behavior lab, where contestants are pushed into intense emotional scenarios that most of us rarely experience in real life. The forced proximity, the absurdly high stakes, the limited time—it's a recipe for drama, but also for genuine human moments. And maybe that’s what keeps me coming back. Beneath all the edits and producer-driven chaos, there are real emotions at play.

And let’s be honest: the messier, the better. The love triangles, the backstabbing, the tearful confessions—it's all so over-the-top, and yet, we’ve all seen versions of these dynamics play out in our own lives. There’s something oddly relatable about the desperation, the insecurity, the thrill of connection. It’s heightened and exaggerated, sure, but the core of it? That’s real.

At the end of the day, these shows are junk food for the brain, but sometimes, that’s exactly what you need. They’re an easy way to unwind, and analyse the weird intricacies of human nature—all while indulging in just a little bit of chaos. And honestly? I’m okay with that.