"I'm really looking forward to kissing the next 11 guys," says 23-year-old shopgirl Chelsea in the second episode of Kiss Bang Love. "Bring it on."
Chances are these are not the words any parent wants to hear their little girl speaking. Ever. Let alone in front of a million people or so. But such statements are now the norm in the world of reality dating shows, which seem to have spread across our screens like a dose of herpes at a 1970s key party.
Blame Tinder. Blame online dating. Blame the general acceptance of the idea that if you're under 35, reasonably good-looking and don't have a criminal record, you have every right to be on television. No, damn it, you are obliged to be on television. If you're a tradie, that applies double.
I have nothing against the common working man having his shot at prime-time love and all, but what is it about carpenters and sparkies that they can't meet women in the real world?
Kiss Bang Love is to romance as speed dating is to … well, to romance. Only more so.
Framed as yet another "social experiment", and spruiked as Seven's latest "controversial" foray into the realm of social anthropology, it pits one person against 12 in a battle to see who will become Australia's Next Top Pasher. Or something like that.
It goes like this. One person kisses 12 strangers while both kisser and kissee are blindfolded. The kisser then whittles the pool of potential suiters down to five. He or she then meets those five with blindfolds off, they kiss again, and the kisser picks their top two. These two kissees go on an all-day/all-night date with the kisser (separately, not together – this show isn't tacky, you know).
Later, they each rock up to the airport with a carry-on bag and high hopes of being the one chosen to join old loose-lips on a five-day holiday on Seven's dime. The poor bunny who isn't chosen gets the most public kiss-off in history.
The star of the season premiere, hospitality worker Lisa, summed all this up rather beautifully. "It's an emotional rollercoaster – kissing someone, meeting them, kissing them again, then sending them on their merry way."
Not that she'd know, but Lisa worked her way through an array of good-looking tradies. Having swapped more saliva in an afternoon than many people manage in a year, she then settled on the man of her dreams. A tradie.
Ryan was tall, blonde, square-jawed and strong-armed – and a plumber. He had a smile to die for and he'd never heard of Noosa.
More to the point, he already knew Lisa, and she already knew him. He'd been slipped into the 12 by Lisa's sister and best mate, who watched and commented on the whole snogathon from a neighbouring room. They knew Lisa and Ryan secretly fancied each other; this was their chance to make it happen.
Of course, that sleight of lip rather undermines the concept, and any vague (if spurious) claim the show might have to being some sort of "scientific experiment" to determine whether or not a first kiss can be the foundation stone of a lasting romantic relationship.
Then again, I'm not sure that's what anyone is really seeking from these shows. A chance to be on television, maybe. A chance to hook up with someone photogenic, probably. A lark, a good story to share with the blokes at the pub or the girls at book group.
But a relationship? I don't think so. Anyone who thinks that is what Kiss Bang Love or any of the other shows is really about is, I suspect, looking for love in all the wrong places.
Kiss Bang Love is on Seven, Tuesdays at 8.45pm
