There ought to be a trivia game called Reality Show or Retard Wrote Something With a Pencil where you have to guess whether or not a piece of content is an actual reality show or just the non-sequitur ramblings of a kid who ate too many lead paint chips at the Sunshine Academy.
Sex Box: couples bang each other in a sound proofed shipping container on a stage then exit to have their relationship evaluated by Botoxed sex and marital counselors while still post-coital.
I know, I guessed Retard with a Pencil as well. But Sex Box turns out to be a show on WEtv channel which I’m certain is blocked on my remote on the off chance I myself might need to become erect some time this decade.
Sex Box could be the final resting puddle of the reality television shit that’s been flowing downhill for years now. But the actual premise is perhaps the most honest relationship show among the 977 currently airing. Love is some ambiguous mumbo jumbo invented by female authors. Lasting relationships are about sex. Down and dirty. Couples that love scrumping put up with each other’s idiosyncratic shit at least until they’re old enough to care more about other hobbies. Show me a couple that can shag hearty in a metal shed for minor appearance fees and total loss of humility and I’ll show you the 50% that aren’t getting divorced. Don’t say I can’t grow. I want in that fuck box.
Photo credit: WE tv