True love’s course never did run smooth, but it is pretty predictable on reality TV. Even as our dating show offerings have expanded from the relatively bland fare of The Bachelor and Joe Millionaire to a veritable buffet of sexy singles, horned-up couples, and gimmicks galore, we pretty much know what we’re getting as soon as the host pulls aside the curtain on our contestants. You could do karaoke along with Brittani from Sarasota or Cory from Queens as they recite the same script, over and over, to describe what they’re looking for in a partner (“a family person with golden retriever energy”) and why they’ve stooped so low as to seek one on TV (“The process has worked for so many people before, so I figured, why not me?”).
Of course, dating on TV is really one big game, and to survive to the last tribal council—sorry, final rose—you have to play by the rules. That means adhering to the reality TV script, carefully written and followed to the letter by generations of contestants. So what are these bombshells (or grenades) really saying when they say, “I love you”? What does “She’s here for the wrong reasons” actually mean when everyone comes on reality TV to land a Bloom deal anyway? Why, for the love of God, is it borderline criminal to “put all your eggs in one basket”?
We’re here to think deeper than any reality TV contestant has before to provide a taxonomy of the most clichéd, inane, and unexpectedly profound truisms in the world of dating shows. We’ll unpack the tropes and truths from series like The Bachelor, Love Island, Love Is Blind, Too Hot to Handle, Perfect Match, and more—and perhaps learn some lessons about love along the way. This is the official dating show taxonomy; think of it as your invaluable guide if you ever find yourself planning your intro for The Bachelor or flirting with fuckboys in a villa in Mexico.
[Cue “Came Here for Love.”]
Meet the Contestants
The first introductions to our hopeless romantics are the reality TV version of a Hinge profile: a first look at a possible partner, their red flags, and their astounding lack of self-awareness. Just like on a dating profile, we get the basic facts of their lives—they love animals, they’re competitive about everything, and they’ve never been in a serious relationship, but they do want to get engaged in two weeks. I’d never dream of making generalizations about the vastly diverse cast members on reality TV, but here are a few of the phrases that capture and define our contestants at the beginning of their journeys.
Note: Not everything that follows is a direct quote, necessarily, but they’re pretty dang close to what you hear ad nauseam on dating shows, and they capture the vibes of our most loved and loathed contestants.
“I would say my main hobbies are going to the gym and getting fucked over.”
It’s no secret that nearly everyone on reality TV adheres to conventional beauty standards: lean, muscled up, and transformed past the point of recognition by procedures and injections. On dating shows, it’s key to broadcast that you’re hot (even—or especially—on series where you can’t even see each other), and that begins with your commitment to the gym.
In their intros, castmates emphasize their fitness credentials as personal trainers and erstwhile NFL players, and the men flex their biceps and unbutton their shirts to show that their reps aren’t all talk. But working out can’t be their only pastime. To prove that they’re here for the right reasons (and not just for the outdoor fitness center), they also have to proclaim that they’ve given the dating scene a real chance. Fuckboys, situationships, and exes who loved drama are what led them here—and the castmates themselves aren’t to blame for any of their past relationship failures. Yep, that all checks out.
“Dating in the real world wasn’t working for me, so I figured, why not?”
On Farmer Wants a Wife, several contestants reveal how hard it’s been finding the right kind of guy in Miami or New York—cosmopolitan cities with thousands of eligible, but apparently undatable, bachelors. Instead, they’ve come on the show to choose from among four farmers who live in the boonies—and who themselves auditioned because of the limitations of dating apps in their sparsely populated hometowns. So it sounds like dating is just bad everywhere, and if it’s going to be terrible, you might as well do it on TV.
The catch, of course, is that the people you find on reality TV are about the same as—if not much worse than—the people you meet in real life. And you might have even dated these people in the real world, as toxic exes Lydia and Uche proved on Love Is Blind.
“I’m looking for someone with good banter, a six-pack, and golden retriever energy.”
In dating shows, as in real life, one must know what one seeks in a partner—manifestation is real, after all. And “good banter, a six-pack, and golden retriever energy” is what the sage participants on reality TV most consistently want in their ideal partner.
When Love Island Australia’s Taylor claims to have the golden retriever energy Mimi’s been seeking, she thinks it’s an answer from the gods (or maybe the producers):
But really, if you think about it, banter, a six-pack, and golden retriever energy do cover the bases of what we’re all looking for in life: Who doesn’t want the charm and good looks of an AKC-registered canine—but in a ripped and flirty package? Golden retrievers are cute and loyal and won’t fuck you over on prime time. Maybe the rest of us are wrong for seeking financial stability, a sense of ambition, or a moral compass from our partners: Life is simpler, after all, with a golden retriever boyfriend.
“I’m ready to find my person.”
Once our contestants establish who they are, the dating dry spell that brought them here, and what they’re seeking in a life partner, they get to the thesis of this whole experiment: They’re all here, no matter their background or education, level of horniness or seriousness, to find their person, the one. We can doubt their intentions all we want (probably fairly), but part of the game is the claim: the claim that you’re here to play along until you find love or at least go down trying. If you’re not all in, then you should probably show yourself to the door.
Getting that person, being the last one standing at the altar or in the villa, means winning the game. Finding the one is also about being no. 1—more desirable and lovable than the competition, and certainly more famous.
Feeling Out the Vibes
Once we’ve met our cast of singles, they start to get to know each other—and the fun really begins. We watch with unbridled glee as rivalries and alliances form, sparks fly, and resentments simmer. Let’s decode what our lovers say as they get to know, and start to woo, their villa/pod/beach/mansion crushes.
“Can I pull you for a chat?”
Every love story must begin with a simple question: “Can I pull you for a chat?” It relays your interest without coming on too strong, and it conveys that you want some private time away from the strivers and their petty mudslinging.
Of course, like any seemingly innocuous turn of phrase on reality TV, “Can I pull you for a chat?” has the power to stir up season-long controversy. If you dare pull someone for a chat in the midst of an intimate moment—or, even worse, after you’ve already had a chat earlier that night—you’ll find yourself called before the reality show court of justice. Everyone’s fighting for screen and quality time on reality TV, and stealing those fleeting moments can be the first stop on a villain’s arc.
“On paper, you’re definitely my type.”
“Can I pull you for a chat” may open the door, but “On paper, you’re my type” is the first foray into a real, lasting reality TV relationship. “You’re my type” acknowledges that the person sitting across from you on a beach bed is the platonic ideal of what you’ve come here for—a person who could be your person. And as soon as someone finds their type, they ditch whomever they might have gotten saddled with earlier in the show.
On Love Is Blind, pod people try to suss out whether the person on the other side of the wall is their type or not—those celebrity comparisons are no accident, as delusional as they may be. Dr. Shake is right: Love isn’t blind, and on reality TV, you’re more likely to end up with someone you like if you just come right out and admit that.
“What’s your sign?”
In the sped-up world of TV dating, nothing is more revealing than an astrological sign.
It’s a proxy for time spent together in the real world. Want to know how someone handles conflict? Look at their chart. Need to know whether that golden retriever energy is real or an act? Ask them (or their mom) what time they were born.
Of course, a promising sign may still lead you astray. On Love Is Blind, Marissa George was beside herself when she found out that pod crush Ramses Prashad was a Cancer/Leo/Leo—but we all saw how that turned out.
“How many kids do you want?”
If you’re on a dating show, it’s already assumed that you want kids—so the person you’re talking to might as well jump to the next question and ask how many. (Saying “more than three” is a sign that someone has good family values and is on TV for the right reasons.)
And if, God forbid, you say you don’t want kids at all, that’s grounds for a reality TV divorce—especially if it’s a woman who isn’t sure about parenthood.
While generational attitudes have shifted, not wanting children is still a radical act on reality TV. And when a woman tells a man she doesn’t want any, it’s a good way to sniff out how he’ll handle disagreement—it’s more effective than a horoscope, anyway.
Genuine Connections With Genuine Intentions
Now that our singles have gotten to know each other, they can move on to the next stage: building a connection. This is where we see contestants dig a little deeper or, you know, just gaze at each other lovingly on the beach.
Now is the time for one-on-one dates, deep conversations in Soul Ties, and permission from an AI bot to have sexy time. And our contestants finally get a taste of what they’ve been longing for: a chance at true love (or lust).
“You check all my boxes.”
It’s one thing to know that someone’s your type; it’s another to find out that you both like the same dog breed and practice morning meditation at precisely 6:30 a.m. “Checking boxes” on reality TV often comes down to finding commonalities; again, in the absence of significant (or even face-to-face) time together, bizarre coincidences can stand in for meaningful connections. Checking boxes is just the most efficient way of finding love, lasting or not.
“I lost my [mom/brother/insert relative here] when I was really young.”
Dating in the real world will quickly teach you whom to be vulnerable with and when you should keep your traumas to yourself; that kind of … prudence is not seen often on reality TV. A lead on The Bachelor(ette) will often reward a mention of personal loss with a rose, and getting vulnerable is widely known to be an important strategy in the dating competitor’s arsenal.
When a contestant talks about their hearing loss, military service, or other personal traumas, they’re demonstrating that they’re willing to open up and trust someone who’s also dating 20 other people. Talking about their dads, both of whom had passed away, brought Katie Thurston and Greg Grippo together during their first one-on-one, and death is the primary topic of conversation on the Golden franchise.
Sometimes The Bachelor can feel like trauma gladiatorial combat, as contestants share the hardest parts of their lives to earn the lead’s thumbs-up. There’s no bond as (deceptively) strong as a trauma bond; talking about your loss can certainly get you a rose, but it’s not enough to ensure the relationship’s long-term survival—or bring healing.
“I definitely love how easily we, like, vibe.”
Vibing might be even more important to relationship success than checking the boxes—sure, someone could be a family man with a good job, but is he a good hang?
You could easily tell, for instance, that Love Is Blind’s Garrett Josemans and Taylor Krause would last while Nick Dorka and Hannah Jiles would not. While Garrett and Taylor had inside jokes and spa nights and made cookies for the rest of the pod squad, Hannah wouldn’t even ride a duck with Nick.
If you can’t vibe together, you can’t ride together.
“I think we’re the strongest couple here.”
Amid all the vibing, let’s not forget that the show is still a competition, and building a connection is about more than just finding a partner—it’s about having a better connection than everyone else.
This sense of gamesmanship makes sense on a show like Love Island or Perfect Match, where there’s a prize waiting at the end for the top couple. But even on Love Is Blind or Bachelor in Paradise, neither of which is a zero-sum game, couples rank themselves against one another—probably for reassurance that despite all their burgeoning problems, things could be a whole lot worse.
A New Bombshell Has Entered the Villa
Just as our couples are taking their first relationship baby steps, a twist comes to knock them off their feet. This inevitably comes in the form of temptation: a new bombshell, grenade, or islander to catch the eyes of our day-one contestants and lead them astray. Every relationship has its tests, but the ones on these shows are designed for maximum drama—and heartbreak.
“Sorry, but I’m not here to make friends.”
The task of the Love Island bombshell or Casa Amor resident is to shake up some established relationships—even if that means making enemies. Alliances (a.k.a. friendships in the real world) are tricky to navigate on a dating show—they can keep you around if things come down to a vote, but they can also stop you from making connections of your own.
So perhaps Love Island Australia bombshell Sophie was wise to say, “I didn’t come to make enemies, but I’m not also here to make friends.”
After all, it’s Love Island, not Friend Island (although, one could argue, the truest, most lasting relationships that come out of these shows are friendships).
“If you like them, I have no idea how you could like me, too.”
You can find out a lot about your potential partner on a dating show—how they look in flamenco shoes, their avocado toast preferences, and, most revealingly, their taste in other people.
Sometimes, TV drama doesn’t come from a great betrayal but from being confused: Wait, you’re into her?
“We came here to test our connections. I can’t put all my eggs in one basket, can I?”
There’s a paradox within the expression “dating competition show”: In the real world, sure, dating can be visualized as a kind of competition, pools of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes vying for one another’s attention. But rarely is the competition as explicit as it is on TV. Usually, you have to inspect your date’s bathroom cabinets and Instagram follows to figure out whether you’re just part of a hotation.
But on dating shows, your competition is sleeping in the bed right beside yours. Disloyalty is baked in—new partners are brought onto Love Island, Perfect Match, Too Hot to Handle, et al. every week, and shows like The Ultimatum and Temptation Island are premised on testing the bonds of already existing relationships. When someone steps out of a coupling, they can defend themselves by pointing to the parameters of the show—we came here to meet new people. And sometimes you gotta leave before you get left.
But do you win the game—and public opinion—by matching up with someone early on and staying loyal until the bitter end? Or by playing the field to test out who your perfect match really is? Answers may vary, but they depend in part on how popular a particular pairing is—and how shady or “disrespectful” a contestant is when they’re exploring their other connections.
“I know I was on a date with them, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Alternatively, your partner could come back from a date and reassure you that they might have been on a Jet Ski with someone else, but they were thinking about you the whole time. That’s the kind of clarity these shows are ostensibly aiming for. Contestants get the chance to try new couplings on for size, look in the mirror, and decide what works. Meanwhile, someone gets left behind to wonder exactly what’s happening on that romantic outing, hoping for the answer Stevan gives Alara on Perfect Match:
You can give these shows this much: They’re a crucible that reveals how much a couple can withstand before their connection breaks. If your relationship can survive the revolving door of temptations on a dating show, it should be able to withstand any other test.
Selling the Drama
We might come to these shows for love, but we stay for the drama. Tensions will inevitably arise when you’re competing over romance, but they’re heightened by gossip, champagne, insults to the intelligence of your castmates, and windmill sex. It’s common knowledge that the producers—unseen but all-powerful—stoke the drama (even if they aren’t the ones who start it). “Conflama” is simultaneously a detour on the course of love and an unavoidable pit stop along the way.
“They aren’t here for the right reasons.”
There’s an inherent, unspoken, but pretty obvious tension within each of these shows: Contestants must appear to be sincere in their quest for true love, but the only guarantee they have at the end of things is an increased follower count (or, at the very least, a higher Q Score). When someone shows up dressed like a queen or a dolphin (shark?), it’s pretty obvious they’re approaching this project with clear eyes: The odds of finding a genuine life partner are pretty low, so they might as well grab their 15 minutes and run.
But it’s one thing to act like the whole endeavor is a ploy for attention; it’s another to come out and actually say it. As soon as you admit (usually off camera) that you’re there to be the next Bachelor or the most famous Love Is Blind cast member, you’re blowing up the pretense that, yes, this show really is about making genuine connections with genuine intentions.
“It’s really hard for me to bring this up, but I have to tell you something about x.”
On the Bachelor franchise in particular, drama is mined from schoolyard tattletales. A righteous anger arises from fellow contestants’ perceived misdeeds, and there’s a race to see who can be the first to tell the lead about incriminating information. On Peter Weber’s and Matt James’s seasons, the ladies climbed over one another to tell tales about bullying, alleged sexual activities, and, of course, anyone who was there for the wrong reasons. It all led to this indelible meme:
Villains and town gossips rarely win on The Bachelor, but they do get a lot of screen time—and fame that can last longer than love. And as they append scarlet letters to their rivals’ chests, they can take comfort in the knowledge that they fulfilled their duty to the gods (the producers) and the moral and entertainment demands of reality TV.
“You know there are cameras everywhere, right?”
A heap of the drama on reality TV comes from what cast members don’t see or hear (the Bachelor lead is constantly asked to referee conversations that happened while they were segregated from the rest of the cast).
In the conflict between Maria and Sydney on The Bachelor, Maria called attention to the cameras that followed their every move, reminding her rival—who definitely thought she was the conquering hero in this story—that the truth about their contrived drama would come out eventually.
The cameras are an all-seeing, all-knowing witness that will ultimately present evidence to the judges sitting at home. And if the cameras didn’t see it, it must not have happened—there’s no escaping the panopticon of reality TV (unless, apparently, you’re on Love Is Blind).
The cameras are also leveraged by the show as a tool of power and punishment—especially on Too Hot to Handle, where the omniscient Lana penalizes contestants for bad behavior, even when they do it in the shower.
Cast members won’t see the footage until it airs, but the audience feels as if it’s watching in real time and forms its judgments accordingly. The footage is held up as objective truth, but it can be manipulated just as much as the contestants are—in fact, we never see the conversation Maria and Sydney are arguing about on The Bachelor. The cameras aren’t as omniscient as we might think, but referencing their ability to perceive and judge what really happened is a play at innocence—if a contestant isn’t afraid of what the cameras might have seen, they must have nothing to hide.
Hold On, Did I Just Get Dumped?
Watching breakups on reality TV always makes me question my sense of empathy. I rarely, if ever, feel sad when a connection is severed: “On to the next,” I say, fast-forwarding through the tearful goodbyes and recriminations. Maybe more than anything on dating shows, these breakups feel manufactured. The contestants must know they’re coming. You’re one of 28 glamazons competing for a single tech sales dude! You didn’t think this would happen?
These are the most common excuses our contestants use to break things off—and the heartbroken testimonials the dumpees share as they leave the mansion, luggage in tow, and reenter the great, loveless world.
“I think I want to explore other connections.”
Every partnership on a reality dating show is a “connection,” a tie that binds two lovers until the next day’s rose ceremony or cocktail party. It’s the barest expression of commitment, but if you don’t establish one, you’ll get booted off the island forthwith.
Saying “I want to explore other connections” is a contestant’s attempt to let the dumpee down easy. After all, as the participants constantly remind us, the whole point of the show is to date around, to meet new people. If you don’t settle down with the first connection you make, you’re just living by the spirit of the competition—and letting your now-ex explore their own connections or leave tearfully in an SUV.
“I’m just getting a friendship vibe from you, to be honest.”
This one usually comes as a surprise to the person getting dumped, especially since besties don’t usually spend their time swapping spit and sharing showers. But like the “exploring connections” breakup, it’s an easy out, a way to break things off without burning all your bridges. (After all, you might end up needing a “friendship rose” to stay on the show.) And sometimes, friendship vibes can turn into real love in the end, if no one better comes along. Just ask Love Island USA’s Serena Page and Kordell Beckham, who persevered (and won the whole show!) after Serena repeatedly tried to put Kordell in the friend zone.
“I feel like I’ve gotten played this whole time.”
Other breakups don’t end so happily. Perhaps your partner found someone new to match with, or they left the experiment altogether because it’s a barren wasteland where love goes to die. Maybe the spark just wasn’t there, or your real-life incompatibilities suddenly became clear in the light of the Mexican sun. Whatever the reason, you’re here, all alone, seeking someone to blame. Rather than cast aspersions on the show you’re on, which is probably designed to sabotage love as much as kindle it, or on the producers, who introduced strife into your idyllic love affair, you blame the ex for playing you all along. Partnership is the means of survival on these shows, and its end is a death knell, the conclusion of your TV and romantic journey.
“I just have to trust that my person’s out there somewhere.”
Otherwise known as the first line of your application to be the next Bachelor(ette). As broken as you may be by love, you have to trust that it’s still out there; otherwise, why would Blake Moynes and Harry Jowsey keep coming back on TV? Faith in love is the rocket fuel that keeps these franchises hurtling along, and a commitment to love’s healing powers could earn you an invitation to the next season.
Are We, Like, in Love?
If you’ve managed to survive bombshells, Casa Amor, rose ceremonies, and the input of your own meddling family members, you’ve made it to the final boss: true love. Love stories are full of clichés; these are reality TV’s favorite ones.
“I can see myself falling for you.”/“I am falling for you.”/“I love you.”
Reality TV’s version of “I love you” is a little bit like breadcrumbing—you have to show just enough interest, at the right time, to keep your partner strung along, but not so much that you make them wonder whether you’re faking the whole thing. It’s a carefully timed release of missiles in the battlefield of love, a strategic display of devotion that establishes you’re playing the game the right way (and, not for nothing, it’s a display of vulnerability that audiences and Bachelors just eat up).
Of course, there are variations on the standard formula, as The Golden Bachelorette’s Chock Chapple amply demonstrates:
But the l-word is delicate and can easily be abused, as Bachelor Clayton Echard found out:
Do any of these people really love each other? As they are fond of insisting, these shows are far more intense than real-life dating, where you see people once a week for a few months until one of you ghosts the other. On dating shows, the pressure cooker environment of romantic getaways and forcibly imposed vulnerability creates, at the very least, the illusion of love.
“I can’t believe we’ve only known each other for a week. It feels like it’s been years.”
Viewers of dating shows (and the participants’ skeptical loved ones) are reminded constantly that we just can’t imagine what these sexy singles have gone through. In the cloistered surrounds of a mansion or villa, days feel like weeks, and weeks feel like years. Removed from the frivolous distractions of jobs, friendships, families, and rent, the pursuit of love becomes all-encompassing and all-consuming. If your heart is broken after you’ve known someone for only three days, it’s because they’ve been your entire world, the reason for your existence in this suspended reality. And if you fall in love and get engaged after two weeks, you’ve won the game and defied the constraints of the space-time continuum. Congratulations!
“Will you make me the happiest person in the world right now?”
We’ve made it to the iconic, flower-wreathed wooden platform, the setting of love’s last dance. If all Shakespearean comedies must end in a wedding, all reality TV romances must end with a beach proposal. The man (and it’s almost always a man) gets down on one knee and asks his satin-gowned beloved to make him the happiest person in the world—because, if we’ve learned anything from these shows, it’s that plenty of things can make you happy, but only love can you make you happiest. And yes, the happiness may last only for “right now”—the track record for these relationships isn’t great—but perhaps it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
“Can I get your number?”
These shows reverse how things usually go in the real world. On dating apps and at bars, we get each other’s numbers, exchange the most relevant details, and try to figure out where we’d fit in each other’s lives: When do you get off work? What neighborhood do you live in? You’re not allergic to cats, right? Then, maybe you get a romantic beach vacation a year and many dates down the line. On dating shows, they start with the beach vacation, then exchange numbers and figure out whether they like the other person’s taste in furniture and TV.
The travails (and travels) of reality-TV-turned-real relationships have a way of eventually breaking up these happy couples. (There’s a reason why Love Is Blind gets really juicy only once everyone’s out of the pods.) Maybe neither approach to dating is wrong (actually, starting with a beach date instead of, like, a meetup at a dive bar on a Tuesday sounds pretty nice), but one is more tried and true.
But sometimes, falling in love on reality TV really does work. Just ask my favorite Bachelor in Paradise couple, Serena Pitt and “Grocery Store” Joe Amabile, who got engaged (on a beach!) before exchanging numbers:
Now that’s true love, and you can dissect it only so much before you start tearing up a little bit, too.
