Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us togethew today. Mawwiage, that bwessed awwangement, that dweam within a dweam. And wove, twue wove, wiww fowwow you fowevah and evah… So tweasuwe youw wove …

Skip to the end, says Prince Humperdinck as he realises that Buttercup isn't really into it.

I couldn't help but think of it on Thursday night, as our Bachelor boy Richie Strahan picked Melbourne single mother Alexandra Nation and the pair begin whatever it is that happens once filming has finished.

Not that Alex had any of the Buttercup about her. These girls all seemed just a little too keen this season, which is always unnerving. How can you be so sure you're in love with someone after a few weeks of filming knowing that other girls are also putting the moves on him.

(But then one of my favourite memes out of the whole thing said: The Bachelor is just like real life except girls don't find out there's other contestants until about week 7 or 8. So maybe it is easy to fall in love with someone, even knowing that his attentions are divided. Maybe it's more honest that way.)

It was the whole idea of "twue wove" though, that got me thinking, thinking about how much more interesting The Bachelor would be if it were more real.

Like for a start. They all have to keep working. No giving up jobs and lolling about the mansion. Hey, would you like a single date? Damn, I've got a project due the next day, I can't get out. There's no stylists to get them dolled up for cocktail parties, bed hair and tracksuit pants should be de rigueur. Alex's young son should have bunked in with his mum demanding as much of her time as he will in the real world. And speaking of mums, Richie's should have just dropped in whenever she felt like it and meddled all along.

But what would be the fun in that I guess, real reality shows?

In a lot of ways the reality shows that are the most real, or appear to be real, who knows what really goes on in the backrooms, are the ones that involve hammers and nails. I must admit I don't watch a lot of them.

I prefer the two things that fuel my desires, food, and well desire …

I'm rather excited by the fact that there's a Canberra connection on the upcoming series of The Great Australian Bake-Off, which starts on October 13. I love this series, particularly the British version with the delicious Paul Hollywood.

I know too, by now, I should have lost my appetite for Masterchef, but it keeps serving up the occasional dish that brings me back to the table. (But, strangely, I have never watched an episode of My Kitchen Rules.)

But it's the reality shows which deal with desire that I lust after.

I fell in love with Kiss Bang Love this year. Kissing, the promo goes, is the "perfect tool" to finding a partner. So why not skip all the preliminaries.

That would make The Bachelor far more interesting. If, as they climb out of the limousine and make their way into the garden for the first introduction, they had to pash. Not that Richie has been one to randomly pash. He's been somewhat reserved in the saliva swapping compared to other Bachelors. Good on him for that I suppose. But he could have saved himself a lot of trouble.

I ask myself why I like these shows, ones based on people trying to find relationships, and, sometimes at least, I'm lost for an answer. But then other times I know exactly why. It goes back to The Princess Bride and twoe wove. You see I'm still a believer. I want Richie and Alex to be happy I really do. To find a way to deal with all the real reality of relationships and life outside the mansion.

I want to believe I can still read people well enough to watch them kiss and know that there's going to be bang and love. I want to believe in people. And twue wove.