In vino veritas, but not always
IDON’T know how many times South Africans need to hear this, but apparently it’s worth stating again: if you have any small-nyana skeletons in your closet, do not appear on a local reality show. CSI: Twitter will have uncovered your deepest, darkest secrets within seconds of your face appearing on the screen. This has repeatedly been the case with the reliably entertaining show Date My Family, where at least half the fun is derived from following live commentary on the show from Twitter.
The show’s premise is that an eligible single man or woman selects a fellow singleton to date without ever meeting them, on the basis of sharing a meal with their family — or, more commonly, friends. So far, so straightforward. What is less clear, however, is why you would choose to appear on the show and spew forth a pack of easily verifiable “alternative facts”.
A few weeks ago, a now-notorious chap called Mdu was the bachelor of the moment. Mdu had apparently been taking classes at the Hlaudi Motsoeneng School Of Rhetoric, because he chose to refer to himself in the third person. “Mdu is a very simple guy,” he announced. “Mdu is a very shy person.” Neither statement seemed remotely true, but they paled in comparison with his subsequent assertion that he owned three apartments and “grew up between 10 and 14 countries”.
Fortunately, South Africa’s women are a fierce and sceptical bunch. “I think he’s a man full of lies,” said one bachelorette. “He looks like a blesser,” commented another. Before the show was over, Twitter had reduced Mdu’s personality and appearance to a smoking heap of rubble.
Following Mdu on to the show last week was bachelor Leago, who behaved equally inexplicably in a different way. Leago was a bisexual guy looking for a “masculine” man — “so that when we walk on the street, people mustn’t know we’re a couple because I am still discreet”. Note to Leago: not any more you aren’t.
Perhaps Leago’s judgment was addled by the fact that he claimed to drink exactly six drinks at each social event. “You’ve had eight,” pointed out one of his lunch companions as he drained yet another glass of red. “Wine is different from beer,” he responded peaceably. At the same lunch, he announced that his favourite boardgame was “Xbox”.
In the end Leago ended up picking chef Michael for a date. He expressed disappointment initially because Michael was too feminine, but shrugged: “There’s nothing I can do.” Six drinks later all reservations seemed forgotten, and he told Michael he loved him on national TV. That’s a pretty spectacular way of coming out of the closet.