For your basic softcore consumer.
Is the appeal of reality shows actually reality itself? Hardly. Real life is generally a tedious routine. It's the semblance of a heightened reality that viewers crave. They want to think what they're watching could happen to them because it looks real. (Of course, when it was revealed that Survivor producer Mark Burnett replaced some of the competitors with stunt doubles, it was very telling that the show remained a hit.)
Which brings us to PHH, a bogus contrivance if there ever was one. This fact won't prevent most viewers from hoping it could happen to them - and despite the fictitious disclaimer, it won't prevent some idiots from thinking it's completely authentic. Our problem isn't with the latter points, it's with the wholesale lack of originality that drives the piece. Obvious cocksucking, pussy-munching shills like Ashley Long and Tianna as the "contestants," go on "blind dates" with softcore models April and Sarge. Since the producers are too cheap to actually send them on location, viewers are treated to the couples basically sitting around chatting it up before the requisite softcore action. The length and shallowness of said blithering nonsense might be appropriate torture for Guadalcanal detainees, but not innocent viewers. The softcore is pretty. Pretty phony, that is. And that really defeats the purpose of a "reality" dating program, don'tcha think?
As the box cover promises, "even the host hooks up!" Quick survey here: will our [uncredited] Booberella allow herself to be wooed by a strange male jogger and spontaneously hop in a cab back to his place? Oh, the chemistry! The tension!
With a scintilla of creative thought, Hook-Ups might be redirected into something watchable. Now that would be really unpredictable.