āDating in reverseā sounds like meeting in divorce court and breaking up on a blind date. Or breaking up at a singleās mixer and meeting because they want white kids. Itās also the slogan of Naked Attraction, the outer limit of primate-on-primate violence.
The internet lied to me. The finest reality TV cruelty doesnāt come from America, Japan, or even the Russian fight pits. Englandās the uncontested king of Milgram reenactments. All thanks to Channel 4: a suffering-powered machine intended to take us all to Avalon.
Britain approaches reality television with the same empathy and restraint as real estate. But their signature food supply pranks will be forgiven and forgotten long before Naked Attraction. This show starts with hate for human flesh and ends with hate for human souls.
Despite the name, Naked Attraction isnāt a nudist colony thriller. Itās a game about exposing your soul. The contestants also have no clothes, but that barely matters. The star is the misshapen wraith hiding behind civility.
But thatās just my take. Like any modern crime, Naked Attraction has promo copy.
Thereās at least one intact brain behind Naked Attraction, because ādating in reverseā does twice the work without the cliches. Whenever a dating show makes apps the Great Enemy, theyāre liquefying at least one human soul per ad break.
In case you also skim pictures when youāre hung over: on Naked Attraction, six people line up to be judged, limb by limb, like a Virginia fire sale. Despite representing a different triangle trade vertex entirely, players jump in with a Jeffersonās enthusiasm. Cultural diffusion at its finest.
Iāll skip whether or not this would work. No one cares if dating show guests find love, including the guests. But of all the rituals for Instagram followers, this is the darkest since Age Gap Love. Which is real, exactly what it sounds like, with the first problem you thought of, and also British. Gladiators are next.
I smelled pain after finding ten seasons with no local knockoff. Networks love rushing hits to the syndication money-printer. Ten uncashed checks isnāt oversight. Itās a cover-up. Theyāre hiding the kingdomās 539th greatest crime.
That, or their spinoff empire canāt process nudity without burying Janet Jackson/Katie Hill/[free space]. It takes work to out-prude the people that coined Victorianism, but children strive to surpass their parents. I lashed myself twice for every testicle in this show, and three times for every lash I enjoyed. The NBC set would look a little different..
Before we dissect the frog, two Flash Facts. One: The behavior in this torture chamber and my godless sense of humor donāt reflect the reality of dating. They reflect lonely souls judging desperate souls on national television. Body dysmorphia is as common as having a body, so keep that in mind. Two: everythingās censored, but if you read this at work youāll end today less employed than you began it.
Naked Attraction spirals, but not far. Weāll warm up with the pilot, before deadlifting the heavy despair.
Our host is sideshow veteran Anna Richardson, not that youād know from watching. Her name appears less often than pierced perineums. The penalty for self-promotion in her contract likely involves a cyanide tooth, or an episode as a contestant.
A shame, since her job takes flexibility. When the guestās an escaped nun exploring rumors of muscular apes, Anna makes three jokes about balls. When the guest is a cult leader recruiting brides before The Ascension, Anna makes three jokes about vulvas. Iām not saying sheās bad. Just that sheāll be replaced by HarassGPT.
She hosted Secret Eaters, which did for eating disorders what Naked Attraction does for body dysmorphia. Anna opened episodes with āBritain has got a big fat secret,ā a sentence tied with CCP propaganda for the cruelest words Iāve quoted. Secret Eaters played the oboe over it, alongside footage of people eating against their will. Cooler heads softened it to āBritain has a big problemā in season two, but by then mankind was ready to stream slap fights to the death.
Her first victimās Aina, a London musician and perfect mark. Sheās one of twelve fools to sign up for a reality showās first season, before anyone knows how many MXCs of humiliation get added in post. The Great British Bake-Off and Big Brother pull from the same species on the same island. Adobe Premiere decides whether you get depravity or Big Brother.
She parties too hard for most guys, so Ainaās here to find one that also doesnāt get consequences. Love means more to her than exposure, unless someone would lie to be famous.
The host parrots Ainaās intro, and then the dick auction begins.
One of the dicks has this tattoo.
The match is over. In ads, the āunique value propositionā is something only your product offers, and a lie. Agencies invent the magic separating Pepsi from a theoretical alternative. This man has a real one, in plain sight, with two floppy ears. Every trait that leads someone to S1E1 of Naked Attraction leads to Elephant Dick.
The appeal may be lost on you, because you read. But writing workshops gave me some insight into people that donāt. For ennuiās horniest victims, elephant ears have all the charm spellcheck lacks.
Youāll get both, because the next phase is lying. Weāre pretending the game isnāt over. Aina still has to evaluate five other dicks, and send someone home for one of two possible reasons. Followed by four more rounds of live mendacity.
āCheap Thrillsā plays while Aina eliminates the smallest penis. Per Aina, itās because of āSomething in the stance.ā Before your brain can reject that, we learn the face a human makes during a Genital Walk of Shame.
I get it. Heās the first man out in a public dick-measuring contest. Only a select group of fraternity rejects know his pain. Afterwards, comfort and mockery will sound and feel identical. The only thing I know about Yellow Pod is that he deserves better.
Yellow Podās a computer science student, and education canāt prepare you for that moment. The class is too hard to pitch: more of us would get mileage out of Advanced Dirty Bomb Defusal than Intro to Televised Dick-Shame. All you can do is brush yourself off, hold your head high, and plot revenge from Monte Cristo.
I could say that the other players arenāt eliminated in girth order. That a round answering āWhatās your favorite body part?ā puts the game in the air. That the oceans are retreating and Vince McMahon is going to jail. But Naked Attraction bought ten seasons with one truth: we never stop lying. Players eliminate overweight people for their voice, short people for their elbows, and black people for their fixation on Chinese Emperors. But like Zhao Gaoās usurpation of Qin Er Shiās court, everyone can see whatās happening.
Aina gets naked for the finals. And after revealing her id, she takes her clothes off too.
This theoretically reverses the dynamic, as the host feeds contestants leading questions about Ainaās body. But Ainaās still scheduled to humiliate one of them afterwards, so itās a compliment contest. The man on the left knows heās lost, and calls her āpresentableā twice. Meanwhile, as Elephant Man wobbles towards victory, he shows more confidence. His enthusiasm becomes apparent. He gets an erection.
Perfect power move. They leave together.
A cynic might call this premise an incel factory. Yup. That, if nothing else, isnāt Naked Attractionās fault. I donāt double-check trending terror motives when I write, except I do because Iām a lunatic. But I donāt expect others to.
āThatās a lot of incel jokes for one dating show,ā says the strawman. āBut I trust Dennard. Surely he knows consensus reality canāt survive an incel episode of Naked Attraction.ā
Got you again, Comedy Strawman. When will you learn?
By season 7, Naked Attraction is done with standard human isolation. The spark is dead. Itās heard all of isolationās stories, tried every position isolation likes from porn, and rerolled sex dice with isolation until their usual came up. Buying a coupleās cruise only made the divorce bells louder.
Thus begins the stunt casting.
The season premiere has the Christian. I retired from jabs at the Abrahamic expanded universe, after learning I was an āassholeā who was ānot helpingā at multiple āweddings.ā Naked Attraction skips that lesson, and sets up the softest target it can find for a direct collision with the zeitgeist.
We meet Brian in a jarring cutscene. It has the grace and subtlety of an unprotected chair shot. Weāre a long way past Season Oneās underground charm, which didnāt exist. Naked Attraction can feel The Masked Singer breathing down their neck, and they donāt have Chris Jerichoās number.
Brian explains āIf I was a wine, Iād be a well-aged Californian Cabernet Sauvignon with lots of elegance and flavor, paired with all kinds of big, bold, beefy dishes.ā Screenwriting books call that the lie your hero believes. This gentleman will elegantly call three women fat and pair with no one.
Brianās never had a girlfriend, kiss, or full explanation of reality TV. I donāt know why his Tory friends didnāt warn him. Or at least tell him not to say āI donāt know where all the parts of the vagina are.ā It robs comedy writers of fun paraphrases.
He likes taking things slow, the way a political prisoner likes free housing. Abstinent people are all over the place, but theyāre not charging onto Naked Attraction. And Brianās hornier than someone ordering wings at a strip club. An editor he should never forgive included this shot:
Then the game begins. Annaās more dialed-in than usual, which is never good for the players. She hits Brian with five variations of āHow much not-fucking have you done?ā seconds after showing a short film with the answer. Brianās too direct and evasive at the same time, explaining heās had āhalf a lapdanceā and āavoided looking at the bottom part.ā
Anna smells blood. They roll out six bottom parts.
Brian struggles with the concept.
And bails.
Once again, the match is over. Brianās still here for love, but the pods are here for airtime. Whoever wins, the date ends in untouched wallet condoms and Jordan Peterson retweets. Anna and Unseen Producer feign concern before gently and supportively getting Brian back to work.
To his credit, he rallies. Genetic memory helps Brian spring into human shopping, and discard idolaters with piercings and makeup. But first, he eliminates Blue Pod for being his āusual type.ā I will now cash in my one free virgin joke. Iām tearing out the coupon, handing it to the cashier, and going back to bored Emperors afterwards.
Brianās āusual typeā doesnāt matter because he canāt have a usual type. I donāt have a usual type of private jet. Reagan doesnāt have a usual part of Heaven. Naked Attraction knows Brian canāt see himself, so itās set him up to fail. Brianās dick is an afterthought; his brainās naked.
Then Green Pod, a gothy gym resident, helpfully identifies key areas of the vagina. And itās a lock. Three minutes after saying āI think sex should be sacred,ā Brian decides Suicide Girls are sacred. Weāre now playing for silver.
Seven seasons in, that means dancing while Brian plays piano.
The logic? Brian needs a classy girl that can wall-twerk to Bach. The truth? Theyāre dead and Anna Richardsonās the devil. She barks improv comedy at the pods, while Brian avoids tritones in front of bodies heāll never touch. Green Pod and Pink Pod sway in confusion, which I get. Yellow Pod refuses and Red Pod sends it, both earning my eternal respect.
Strong showings all around, but Brianās fully committed to Elviraās torso. Heās planned their wedding reception, down to the wine and Bible translation on each table. Which is a shame, since Blue Pod looked willing to take that deal.
Each trial ends with a time skip and post-date autopsy. I didnāt show you Ainaās, because you know what happened. Some say theyāre still going. But did Brian connect with the Morticia stunt double of his dreams?
Look at that gap. The couch has a demilitarized zone.
This should be the only censored image. Itās graphic. The couch is Naked Attractionās cruelest character, and Anna Richardson tries. Failed couples sit across a force field, with eyes that say āI miss the pod.ā Itās like the Penance Stare: I feel every rejection Iāve received or given at once. Homecoming and divorce court, combined on one couch cushion.
It happens a lot.
See, in the NakedVerse humiliation isnāt punishment for thirst, prudishness, desperation, aloofness, low ELO, dropping dumbbells, cruelty, or naivete. Itās punishment for breathing.
Brian slips into playing hall monitor again, but Iām done needling him. Letās tap into something I normally avoid: new ants. Noo-aunts. Nu-wants. Fuck. I can do this. Clap your hands and believe in Jamaican Tinkerbell. Nuance. Someone can be a reactionary dork and get done dirty by Channel 4 at the same time. The latter isnāt justified until they load up on Tren and become dating coaches.
Naked Attraction bugs me because it wears constructive clothes. If it was called The Lonely Torture Hour or Fuck You, Iād be talking about chokeslams right now. Instead, Channel 4 made a sex-positive venus fly trap. Brian doesnāt need Naked Attraction. He needs two years of constructive failure and a sex-ed pamphlet. Now heās the U.K.ās most humiliated non-prime minister.
And yes, itās worse than swiping. Comedians hate online dating and new material. Yet Naked Attraction effortlessly defends the concept. OKHingeMeetsFish, if nothing else, puts some distance between you and live judgment of your pores. For many, that inch of comfort separates romance and Romanian law enforcement. The industryās an antitrust suit waiting to happen, but so is water.
As for self-promotion? I get it. I really do. Half my career is walking by klan rallies with a ākick meā sign. Hereās a handy rule. Write down the craziest shit youād do to double your following. Not your reach, sales, respect, or fanbase: just passerby on Mark Zās lawn. Take a photo. If anything more humiliating than that comes along, say no.
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This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Neku104, voted best Red Pod for Crotch Only on Seasons 1-17 of Hot Dog Attraction.
8 replies on “Fucking Day: Naked Attraction š”
Welp, if y’all had any Mormons still somehow holding on to the HotDog, they are surely gone now after the dick hiding elephant eared Elder Doll.
Come for the shaming of body shamers, stay for the unsolicited* jokes about Ronald Reagan.
*but always welcome
I consider myself someone who enjoys horror movies. Sometimes, I’ll get spooked enough that I have a hard time getting to sleep. But once I’m actually asleep, I almost never have nightmares about the movie.
This show is a waking nightmare. I’d never fucking sleep again, I’d barely be able to exist, if I watched it. You know all those nice people you meet who boost your confidence by telling you, truthfully, that many people don’t judge by tubbiness or dick size or oddly asymmetrical parts? Those trusted friends are fucking liars, you wobbling pig person. Behold the unfiltered truth on Naked Attraction, and forever doubt that your wife actually loves you and isn’t just settling!
Every person involved in creating this show should be subjected to it themselves, because that’s already the cruelest punishment someone could be given.
I consider myself someone who enjoys horror movies. Sometimes, I’ll get spooked enough that I have a hard time getting to sleep. But once I’m actually asleep, I almost never have nightmares about the movie.
This show is a waking nightmare. I’d never fucking sleep again, I’d barely be able to exist, if I watched it. You know all those nice people you meet who boost your confidence by telling you, truthfully, that many people don’t judge by tubbiness or dick size or oddly asymmetrical parts? All of them are fucking liars! Behold the unfiltered truth of Naked Attraction, you wobbling pig person, and forever doubt that your wife actually loves your body and isn’t just settling!
Fascinating thesis on the depths man can sink as always Dennard! Your source material doesnāt deserve you and neither do we. I appreciate your sacrifices.
ātheir signature food supply pranksā
This belongs to history, to all of humanity, which means the British Museum is going to steal this column.
I’m in the UK. I’m pretty sure the host also did a show where you watched people fucking in a Booth and then experts told them how shit they were at it.
We like looking at unkempt bush and wobbly gunts on our tvs over here.
I clapped for Jamaican Tinkerbell as loudly as I could taking reading this at work as a challenge! You always write such sharp and hilarious articles and I look forward the next one.