I am independent, educated, and self-assured. I don’t smoke, drink only in moderation, and haven’t inhaled since university. Anyone who knows me will testify that I don’t have an addictive personality.
In the past few weeks, however, my stable nature has changed. Suddenly, I know how it must feel to become hooked on nicotine. And I am increasingly concerned that, as with most addicts, my daily routine revolves around the timing of my next fix.
Fortunately – or not – that fix comes like clockwork. Four nights a week, in the privacy of my living room, I draw the curtains and turn off my phone. I check that my teenage son is in his bedroom, chilling with his music and phone. I deadbolt the front door. Only then, safe in my dark cocoon, can I turn on the TV and admit my problem: I am addicted to MAFS Australia 2023.
MAFS (for those with more willpower than me) stands for Married At First Sight. The television "social experiment” was born in Denmark in 2013 and is now franchised around the world (including here). Now in its 10th year, MAFS Australia sees complete strangers matched by psychologists, get hitched, and then spend the season in the reality TV spotlight, struggling to figure out if they’re compatible.
As the MAFS opening sequence begins and the now-familiar faces of Bronte and Harrison, Alyssa and Duncan, Lyndall and Cam appear, my day-long cravings melt away. I forget that I am independent, educated, and self-assured. All I know is that my addiction won’t break the bank. Thank you, free-to-air TV.
Actually, that’s not all I know. Deep within my MAFS haze, I know that family and friends question my sanity. My parents, usually unconditional in their support, outright reject my fervent pleas to get on board the MAFS train.
“Just try it – I promise you’ll like it!”
I can hear the desperation in my voice.
Friends I thought I could trust with my secret openly scold me.
“Amber, is this really how you want to spend what little spare time you have?”
Until this moment, I haven’t had the courage to tell my boyfriend why we haven’t been catching up in the evenings between Sunday and Wednesday (if you are reading this now, sorry, boyfriend).
In the face of this pushback, I am forced to confront the question: Why do smart women watch dumb TV?
The answers are as varied as the new releases on Netflix.
The obvious answer: escape. From crises of climate, cashflow, and confidence – the harsh realities of 21st century life are all around us. Sometimes it’s just nice (and necessary) to put them on the back burner and submit to the seduction of the small screen.
Plus, it’s surprisingly social in there. Along with my MAFS mates, I have been flirting with my old friends from Friends, and even enjoying some good old fashioned girl talk with Ellen (before she became a bully).
Voyeurism also plays a part. By day, the demanding deadlines of my job stifle even the slightest flights into fantasy. By night, I enter the unreal world of reality TV, where plunging necklines, fake tans, and manicured talons serve as glamorous accessories to the sequined stars of betrayal, broken hearts, and fiery make-up sex. I ask you – doesn’t your day also pale in comparison?
Which is, ultimately, the root of all my troubles. Compared to the eternal drama, angst, and quest for true love in the MAFS world, my own life feels mundane, predictable, and dull. Hand me the dagger to skewer gaslighting Dan! Bring on the bitchery aimed at cold-hearted Tayla! When it comes to reality TV, all is fair in love and war. Sign me up for the battle of the sexes!
But even as I secretly bemoan the dreariness of my daily existence, I know I am making progress.
Unlike many addicts, I no longer try to deny my dependency. As the final episodes of MAFS 2023 unfold and I ride the waves of anxiety over going cold turkey, I know how to take that crucial step away from the clutches of inane entertainment, toward freedom.
Ellen, come back – I’m ready to tell my story.
