Married At First Sight is great couples therapy. But what’s in it for the rest of us?
More and more Australians are destined to be single. Where’s our reality TV show?
There’s a moment in the streaming series Parenthood when the father of an Asperger’s child, desperate about his son’s future, asks an autistic adult, who has carved a niche as a children’s party performer, if he is happy.
“Sometimes,” the performer says, then turns to this married, handsome, successful, “normal” father and asks: “What about you, are you happy?”
Dad misses a beat. “Sometimes,” he finally responds with a wry smile.
You could read a dozen philosophy books and spend a fortune on analysis without ever getting that message about the “sometimes” nature of life, proof once again of the power of fictionalised television to cut through.
I thought recently about how much I learned about life and kids from bingeing on several seasons of Parenthood, a thought prompted after reading a column in The Times about how the TV show Married At First Sight (MAFS to fans) is as good as couples therapy for some viewers.
The writer and her partner had discovered that watching the reality show that is premised on the power of romantic love – but which is really about the impossibility of living happily ever after – sparked serious talk about their own relationship; a comment that sparked serious envy from me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for this duo, reinforced by a show that reminds them that, all things considered, they’re doing pretty well compared to the walking disasters revealed on screen. The therapy comes from realising they’re not the only ones struggling with the reality of being with a special someone 24/7.
It’s just that I’d rather like to see a reality TV show with some equally useful stories about surviving singledom, now we know about 25 per cent of Australian households are single households, occupied by those who stay single all their lives or wind up single for decades, following divorce or the death of partners.
Where’s the equivalent TV therapy session for those who need help in navigating the single life?
Loneliness may or may not be increasing, and being single is not a recipe for sadness, but MAFS and other similar shows tend to bolster the notion that, despite the challenges, the presence of another is the goal. A bit of cultural respect for the single state as a viable alternative, despite the challenges, would not go amiss.
To be fair, TV and film have caught up in recent years and increasingly reflect changing demographics and mores: there’s no shortage of single characters in TV shows, films and books. They may not reflect the wide spectrum of singles – the screen versions are invariably glamorous and successful – but at least they are not the sad-sack spinsters and hapless bachelors of yore.
Even so, the underlying message hasn’t changed much from the era when to be single was to be a failure, trapped in a life that you really should have had the personality, the sex appeal or the foresight to avoid.
Yes, 21st-century singles know they can stay out all night, or watch Parenthood at 11am on a Saturday morning, or (my personal favourite) rest their feet on the table while enjoying a takeaway dinner, without having to explain themselves to anyone. They know they can paint a door green, or hang a poster of Buddy Franklin on the bedroom wall, or eat chocolate for breakfast without causing an international incident.
But deep down, the singles represented on our screens are usually not happy, not really. Instead, they’re getting by, making the most of it, building a career, working out at the gym, grabbing a manicure as they wait for real life to appear in the shape of a fulfilling relationship. Deep down, we know that being single is culturally second best and we are told in all sorts of ways that to mate is not only a biological drive but also an emotional essential.
Look no further than Friends, which is now as old as the hills but still pulling in viewers across the globe. It’s a wonderful salute to the idea of a “family of friends” but it has lived on and on because it’s basically about chasing the couples dream.
Fair enough. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of falling in love. Even when those emotions cool, there’s much to be said for an exclusive relationship that endures and grows over time. Who doesn’t delight in seeing couples who enjoy each other’s company and get solace from each other over the years? Who doesn’t miss someone at some stage in their life? Who doesn’t yearn at times for a kindred spirit, or even just someone to take up some space on the couch?
But marriage (or its near equivalents) has been so privileged in our culture that we’ve failed to pay due regard to singledom – even as the Pill and divorce and women’s economic freedom, and an end to the notion that men had to sign up as the breadwinners, have transformed expectations about what represents a life well lived.
There are many factors, including luck, that determine whether people wind up single, but denying the big social and economic shifts that have changed the world can leave people with the sense they have failed a personal test. Time to flip the coin and recognise that singledom (like marriage) is not always a conscious choice, even if there are choices about how to manage life without a partner.
Quite how a television producer could create a show about the single state that doesn’t depend on ultimately finding true love is the question. Where’s the tension, where’s the seduction in a show that doesn’t involve the chase?
MAFS, which is now in its 12th season, having launched in 2015, offers some pointers.
The show mixes the fantasy of love at first sight with plenty of mini-dramas about the hopelessness of it all. It works because it’s filled with the failure of love. It’s addictive because of the arguments, poor behaviour and incompatibility of its contestants. Its free therapy emerges from mini-dramas like putting out the bins, a scene The Times columnist noted led to a big conversation with her partner about the division of “manual and emotional labour” in their household.
Would a TV show about singledom need to copy the MAFS model? Would it have to be equally brutal about the downsides of the solo life? Would it have to eschew all that advice about joining a club, or taking a trip to France, or getting a better job to fill in the gaps, and instead show audiences the Friday-night blues or the horrors of connecting on Hinge?
I’d prefer to see singledom celebrated not dissed, but who knows what would attract an audience. After all, who knew that a show about virtual strangers proving how hard marriage is would wind up making viewers feel better about their lives?
The good news for diehard romantics – coupled or single – is that there would be no need to excise romance entirely from the script.
We don’t need to kill the dream of connecting with that special other, or even the notion of love at first sight.
We just need to make a little more cultural space for those millions of (sometimes happy) Australians who, at least sometimes in their lives, could end up paying a single supplement for that hotel room in Paris or Vienna.
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