Summer 2000, the revolution began.  With the first opening sound of a primitive horn, Survivor began and so did the tradition of the mid-summer replacement reality show.  Monday night, as I was hunkering down to watch Obsessed (a very special episode with two women, one suffering trichotillomania and the other with a ridiculous oral hygiene fixation), my guest James 3.0 had something else in mind.  Dating in the Dark.  

New to the ABC summer line-up Dating in the Dark is a lot like the Springsteen song “Dancing in the Dark” only without so much Courtney Cox and way less sexy.  The show brings together three men and three women of questionable attractiveness (none were overtly fugly, but rather they were all kind of …meh) all in their 30s (which used to be the new 20s, but now seems to be the new age of desperation and disgust).  The women live in one wing, the men another and in the center (oh, the wonder!) a room completely devoid of light equipped with night vision cameras (which gave all contestants seriously creeper eyes).  This is the only room where the men and women will interact.  It’s like the creator sat down with some serious cheeb and listened to Springsteens Greatest Hits while searching Match.com.

On the initial group date, the trios sat in complete blackness and talked, after which true grossness occurred - the folks were allowed to go through each others luggage (I guess to make sure there were no fatties among the group or anyone with false limbs or teeth).  The men went straight for the bras.  Typical.  Based on voices and underpants (because, really what else do you need?), 1:1 date pairings were made which seemed to stick… 

Matt, who had the face of a silly putty man and the hair of a poodle was in to Megan, the aspiring sommelier even though she was “a little thick” (maybe a size 8).  The first date showed them uncomfortably touching each others faces and talking about - - oh God knows what!  I was curled into a cringe ball and rocking by this point in the show.  He brought an indoor surfboard on the second date and made her climb upon it so he could “keep her steady” (feel her up).  I guess he liked what he felt enough because they ended up making out.  Classy. 

Chrystee the God fearing black beauty tried on Jason, the man from Boston with no distinguishing traits, for size and proceeded to rub in his face that she loved Jesus more than him while he felt out of place, because let’s face facts, most people who sign up to get it on in a dark room on national television don’t follow the letter of the Lord.   On the second date each of them brought 2 alcoholic beverages in the room with them.  2!  EACH!  Not for each other, but rather to stay liquored up, after all in the dark no one can see how much you consume!!!!  They also ended up making out. 

Lindsey, the butter face blonde with a serious need of Proactiv, was all about Doug, the St. Louis Cardinals pitching coach and #1 douche bag.  Especially after D.Bag Doug brought melted chocolate and encouraged her to place his chocolate-covered finger on her body part which he was then allowed to kiss.  SKEEVE!  I was now under my couch screaming, “I am going to throw up when they see each other!!!” and James replied “this show makes my stomach hurt!”  Of course, making out ensued. 

Final date, men cook dinner for the women (Culinary King Doug made shrimp and hot dogs - sick) who were instructed to give the men the best massage they could, happy ending optional.  What happened, friend-os?  That’s right.  MAKIN’ OUT!   

This, this is when true reality show spectacularocity occurred.  THE REVEAL!  Each couple stood with a 2 way mirror between them.  One at a time, a beam of light, like something out of Star Trek shone upon them as they stood as good as naked to be appraised.  There are no words for the faces which were made (I simply projectile vomited my John Daly all over my coffee table at this point).  The couples then reflected on their epic quandary: To walk out on the balcony and the arms of the one they are meant to spend their lives with (after 3 dates – seriously, folks, if I ended up with the first dude I swapped spit with in the dark I would be well into my 14^th year married Colombian named Alejandro)… OR to walk out the front door (that YOU CAN SEE FROM THE BALCONY!) down the longest driveway ever conceived never to think again of the hideous beast they lovingly embraced for the past two days?  Truly, a query worthy of Hamlet.   

Matt and Doug, met the ladies on they balcony after they figured out they could close their eyes as they banged in the back of the Bentley which drove them away to a night of doin’ the do in a new opaque love nest followed with empty promises and faking of entering the girls’ numbers into their cell phones.  Jason, although his bone felt a quiver for super cute Chrystee made the tough choice to not convert to her cult, and walked out of the house as she watched from the balcony, rejected. 

The moral of the story?  I guess like the Boss so poignantly articulated, “You can’t start a fire without a spark, this gun’s for hire even if we’re just being tea bagging in the dark.”  

p.s. for all dates, everyone dressed to the nines.  REALLY?  Comon’!  They can’t see you!!!  I would’ve worn a dress made out of a lion pelt and waited for my date to ask, “What is that?  Velvet?”

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