I have no guilty pleasures

A confession : The Diary room episode

When I was about 13 or 14, I used to do my own renditions of what I thought a sleep over was.

It's where you stay up late at night and watch as much TV as you can right ? I'd wait till my parents and siblings were indubitably asleep and creep out into the empty sitting room.

The ritual would begin : switching around channels, dancing the night away and watching obscure ,probably underperforming, cartoons whose only audience would be kids as naughty as me, awake at 1am.

One night, after my ritual, I stumbled across something that captured my attention. Maybe it was the alluring name; the question mark at the end of the sentence or the desire it sparked to answer its bodding,intimidating question

" Are You The One ?" (read it as a question). I couldn't look the other way.

My "sleep-overs" soon started becoming Are You the One ?-all-nighters. I would wait till 3am to watch just a few episodes most nights it was running. I was missing a lot of sleep, waking up crankier to school, and possibly chipping away at the sanity of my older sibling spending long hours talking about this show. I couldn't stop watching it, I was having the time of my life.

It was entertaining, addictive, ridiculous and thrilling. Most importantly though, in some ineffable way, it spoke to me.

The game and its rules (Contestants learn the rules Episode)

Are You The One ? was a true reality tv iconoclast. Whilst it had many pedestrian reality TV tropes, it tried to be innovative and exciting in its general mystery. It was also one of the few competition shows I rendered at the time that didn't pride itself in elimination rounds or competition against the participants.

A total of 20 contestants (10 men and 10 women) were made to live in a large beach house on an island. Each contestant had been rigorously screened beforehand. Their ideal partner was deduced by a team of scientists and/psycologists and put in the same house as them. Each contestant of one sex was to figure out who out of the other 10 in the opposite sex was this ideal match, something the show called a "perfect match".

At the end of the each week, there would be a ceremony where each person would present who they thought was their perfect match. Men would have their week to present , and so would the women. Often times, contestants would be stuck in elaborate love triangles that would see them fighting for their picks during these ceremonies.

Large studio lights would beam into the beach's sky at the end of the presentation. If they were 10 in number(as in 10 couples) it meant all the couples paired up were perfect matches and the contestants had just won a million dollars. If not, they would have to regroup( the lights only revealed the number of perfect matches not which couples these were).

The show kept you heavily invested. Every beam-light-episode contestants lost was a loss for you. If they got 9 out of 10 lights, it was so close for all of you to win that money.

Each contestant needed the money for one reason or another. Many were emotionless and adopted a mechanical approach to find their perfect match.

Others wore their hearts on their sleeves.

Sometimes, it would be weeks in and the contestants would still be struggling to get matches. The show would create a deal with the house. " If you are able to do x , we will tell you if a couple you select is a match or not". A couple who everyone thiught was definitely a match that had been dating since the beginning of the show would be revealed to not to be a perfect match. The sand beneath the house would rumble and the beach sky would be cloudy for days on end. Some couples would think their love a feat and still stay together after this revelation( was that selfish or not ? These were the philosophical questions my 13 year old self was grappling with).

It was a house filled with jealousy, lies and betrayal; love, trust and friendship . I loved every minute of it.

Origins of a reality TV lover : An ad break

My love for reality TV has started long before these 3am rendezvous. My aunt was obsessed with the eponymous Big Brother Africa(BBA). The greatest continental showdown of our time, her first love of media in many ways.

Every year, religiously, she would watch BBA and patriotically support the Nigerians to win.

My parents were not fans of her watching this show with their kids. Back then, it was more provocative , much more sexually charged and terribly scandalous. It was rated 21 and I was even much younger than my Are You the One ? phase. But my aunt indeed loved this show and needed someone to share her excitement with. She would furtively enable I and my siblings to watch the show with her, tell us to leave the sitting room when something we weren't supposed to see happened and cover our eyes when she wasn't quick enough (and she was dutiful in this).

Every eviction day was a dreadful but exhilarating one. There was a year the South Africans won that left her very bitter. Two white brothers. She prayed that the year after , Nigerians would take the crown.

My aunt's obsession brought us together. It influenced my incongrous investment in reality TV. I learned to share my excitement with my siblings and force them to maybe not love but care enough to grumble at something I found so exhilarating.

Science ! : The Big Revelation Episode

I've looked back at this Are You the One? phase multiple times and come to a conclusion as to what had this chokehold on me. Asides what seems to be a predilection for reality tv in general , I was found my self being obsessed with the parts the show called were "sceintific". The parts that had to do with the mysterious first of the show psychologists seemingly finding a perfect partner for you. This echoed in my later obsessions with shows like Married at First Sight ( psychologists found you what they thought was your ideal partner, you would marry that person without ever seeing them. The show would follow you for 2 months and at the end, you would decided if you wouod stay married or not).

In a vulnerable moment to myself and whoever is reading this, I've realised that the queer child that used to feel like there was something wrong with them felt like science could some how match them with a perfect , more acceptable person , maybe that would make them more normal.

But lots of things have changed now. For one, I no longer sneak out to do tv all- nighters (my brain doesn't need to be creative to get sleep- deprived anymore ).

After years of no new seasons, Are You the One? got revived last year with a unexpected twist. All participants are queer. Anyone can now be your perfect match. It's getting it's flowers : I hear the new season is just as trashy as it used to be. It's apparently even sparked a debate of queer people being able to have their own trashy reality tv shows.

There is a nervousness attached to watching it now. I wonder what emotions it will bring up. I think I am scared of what it would mean to see the show in the form I subconsciously always wanted and probably needed at the time.

Every new experience with my queerness is a testament that I do not need science or lack thereof to find love. It is all around me, from my sisters to my friends, and myself.

I am not as unsure as I once was. Neither am I as scared as I used to be.

The Reunion Episode

Last week I went to visit my aunt. She is now married far from the university student she once was. We reminisced about all that had to do with Big Brother Africa. All the sneaking around we would have to do so we could watch the show together( something I obviously internalised). We talked about her favourite past contestants like Goldie (her soul rest in peace) , Karen and Ebuka. She doesn't remember the year the South Africans won.

My aunt had been in a depressive state earlier in the year before my mother died. She would stay in bed all day and watch hours of reality TV.

Now, she remains angry at herself. She believes she could have spent more time with my mother in her unknowingly final months rather than on her bed combing through reruns of Ultimate Love..

Now, every year, she makes a proclamation that she won't waste her time watching Big Brother 9ja or any other reality TV for that matter.

Maybe in many ways, I'm trying to hold on to the love and excitement she used to have for these shows for her.

I asked her if she preferred BBA to BBN, she said "Oh Ebun ! , things have changed".