Word on the street is that dating at Boston University is about as easy as shaving with a spatula. With a female-to-male ratio rumored around 65-to-35, you’d think a romantic connection would emerge at least now and then, but nay — Aphrodite seems to have a sore spot for us women here at BU. Perhaps we’re too diverse in taste for our own good.
Perhaps it’s too cold out to risk frostbite or perhaps we can’t stop surfing Facebook’s bumper sticker application. Whatever the case, the lovebug just won’t bite. And that’s OK. We are not a school of trophy wives or husbands. Everyone here is intelligent and working hard for their own betterment, but it would still be nice to hold a hand along the way. This is why BU needs to invest in its own dating show.
Ah, the dating show. A bittersweet symptom of a society sick with disconnect, dating shows are like that girl you saw trip and fall on her face last Saturday in Allston. It’s not a pretty sight and someone is going to get hurt, but you just can’t help but watch.
It all began in the ’60s, when the then-risque show The Dating Game emerged. If you’ve never caught a rerun of this little gem, you don’t know what you’re missing. The show allows a dude named Gary or a chick named Suzanne to question bachelorettes or bachelors Nos. 1 through 3 while separated by a partition. They would ask questions like, “If you were an ice cream flavor, what would you be and why?” or “What’s your idea of the perfect date?” How raunchy.
Dating shows have certainly evolved since then, with The Bachelor, The Littlest Groom and Date My Mom as stepping stones along the way. If The Dating Game was vanilla, then the Flavor of Love found in modern dating shows is strawberry syphilis.
It is from MTV and VH1 that I receive my inspiration for this collegiate reality dating show. The networks previously known as music meccas have rocked the world of reality dating shows with feel-good treasures like Public Enemy member Flavor Flav’s Flavor of Love, Poison singer Bret Michael’s Rock of Love and professional Myspace friend Tila Tequila’s A Shot at Love. Seriously, so much love. Well, love and STDs.
All of the shows are based on the same formula, which I will be copying: A celebrity searches for love among a large crop of suitors, who compete for alone time with him or her. Challenges like chocolate syrup wrestling in A Shot at Love and a chicken fry-off in Flavor of Love give the competition its momentum.
I don’t know about you, but I’d be willing to rock in a roller derby for a chance to peek under Bret Michael’s bandanna. Seriously, that man’s hairline is probably so terrified of those groupies that it recedes farther with every stripper who asks for “face time.” It’s also inevitable that every show will feature drunken hot-tubbing at some point. For our reality show’s purposes, it will be drunken lazy-rivering. At the end of each episode, someone would be ceremoniously voted off.
It is these groundbreaking television shows that have inspired me to suggest the reality dating show BU Love? for our own social betterment. Perhaps this is the jolt that we need. One thing all of these shows have in common is the “mackadocious” – as Flav would say – house where the drama would go down. I nominate the BU Castle, already equipped with a fully stocked bar. Inspired by A Shot at Love’s enormous bed for all 32 contestants, I suggest one extremely long extra twin mattress for everyone to sleep in.
Next, we need a bachelor or bachelorette. In keeping with the celebrity theme, I put forward the guy who runs down Comm. Ave., everyone’s friend Allison from the GSU, that guy who looks like Orlando Bloom or even Mee Chow herself — is she still around? As for the contestants, keep your eyes peeled for castings. They will probably take place in BU Central unless some other awesome event is booked. Wait — who am I kidding — nothing’s happened since Jordan Knight.
I will, however, take a page from those at BU Central and suggest that the upcoming Rock Paper Scissors Tournament double as a BU Love? challenge. Other challenges could include “Who Likes to Cuddle and is Proudest of It?”, “Who Can Stomach Rhett’s?” or “Who Can Grow the Coolest Mustache?”
A crucial ingredient: mad drama. Every contestant is required to be absolutely insane. Humans with feelings or a conscience need not apply as reality dating shows are cesspools for smack talking and general riff-raffing. Someone is going to steal your little black dress and fly it high on the flagpole in Marsh Plaza. But that doesn’t really matter, because you’ll most likely be wearing nothing but a bikini every day. Make sure you get that Lance Bass tattoo covered up. Inappropriateness will likely ensue down the street in the legendary lazy river.
The elimination ceremony will likely be emotional, so wear your waterproof mascara. If you do get eliminated, make sure that you plant a big wet one on the bachelor or bachelorette and then flip everyone off while ripping your weave out as you storm away.
Finally, a warning: These shows are scripted and you might not find love. Sorry, I thought you knew. Maybe that 65-to-35 ratio isn’t so bad after all.
Isis Madrid, a junior in the College of Communication, is a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at [email protected].
