MAFS is hell. Why can’t we turn off?

I love reality TV, but two years ago, I swore off watching Married At First Sight. I can’t tell you the peace I’ve found since. But every so often the toxic bile finds its way back to me via my Twitter feed and I find myself sucked back in, like I’ve driven past a car crash or someone nearby is peeling back their Band-Aid and saying “do you wanna see my stitches?”

Year after year, MAFS puts on a hellish circus as the nation watches people getting pushed to the brink.

Drama unveiled: one of the couples on Married At First Sight.Credit: Nine

For those who’ve missed it so far, couples get paired up by three “relationship experts” (Australian Dr Phils), meet at the altar and get fake married, and move into an apartment complex with all the other couples, so they can have weekly “catch-ups” (brawls) under the guise of supporting each other during the “experiment” (eight-week long cage match).

In previous seasons, there have been reports of contestants calling the police to report producers and castmates for disturbing behaviour, including what was the final straw for me – a haunting incident with a dirty toilet and a toothbrush that would later be classified as “physical abuse”. This plot point still lies buried in the deep recesses of my mind, ready to ruin my day at any moment.

So, it came as no surprise when the show made headlines again last week after contestant Dom was publicly humiliated after being informed that a nude photo of her had been circulated by another contestant, Olivia. Dom stormed out, visibly distressed, and now a petition demanding that Olivia be referred to the e-safety commissioner has garnered more than 123,000 signatures.

What Olivia did was horrible, but she’s just one little star in a constellation of heinous behaviour that regularly occurs on MAFS.

Domenica Calarco (right) confronts Olivia on MAFS.

The show is ratings gold, but this often comes at a cost – such as a woman being slut-shamed in front of a national audience and another woman being piled on by the entire nation.

If MAFS is like snorting crushed glass, then its antithesis, Byron Baes, is like drinking chamomile tea. The Netflix “docu-soap” follows influencers around their “real” (read: completely confected) lives in Byron Bay, with every episode featuring a faux confrontation at a contestant’s event for their fashion label/fake tan collab/mermaid statue unveiling.

The major difference between the two shows seems to be that the Byron Baes cast are allowed to maintain some semblance of a normal life – not caged like rats in a highrise.

The only problem is the linen-clad, kindness-preaching influencers don’t seem particularly interested in being villains – the essential ingredient for top-rating reality TV. Byron Baes is funny, and the cast are genuinely compelling, but they need someone to storm in and start yelling. Someone who genuinely likes stirring the pot (I’d do it but I’m busy).

MAFS, however, is the underground dog-fighting ring of network television, and I will continue to shriek at every person who asks me if I’ve been watching it, begging them to look away.

But until everyone stops tuning in, all I can do is pray for a class-action lawsuit against the production. Don’t you think the cast members should rise up and take them down? Haha, just kidding! Unless…