Never in my life did I expect to willingly watch a dating show, let alone write about one. The blame for both of these occurrences rests with my wife. You see, Maria is writing her dissertation for her Master’s in Shakespeare Studies, and, after hours of digging into dense texts, she occasionally turns to a certain kind of TV as an escape. She doesn’t deny it—her way of taking out the mental trash often involves watching some real trash. “The kind from which you are least likely to learn something,” she says. Here enters true crime, the occasional dating show, and, I have a sneaking suspicion, anime, but I haven’t confronted her about that. Look, we all have needs and vices, and one could do worse than some bad TV.
So, when Maria, somewhat shyly, cued up Better Late Than Single on Netflix, I leaned back and let the acceptance wash over me–I’ve watched full seasons of The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, The Golden Bachelorette, and lived to tell the tale. Awkward young South Koreans trying to find a match didn’t excite me, but, given my experience with Bachelor Nation, it didn’t scare me either. The things we do for love, right? “Like walking in the rain and the snow when there’s nowhere to go…”
The premise of the ten-episode series is simple: six men and six women are brought together to live in a beautiful, secluded resort on Jeju Island for nine days, where, through a series of games, dates, and icebreakers, they hope to find a love match. Straightforward, right?
What leads up to that point, however, is where we begin to diverge from what we’re used to in American reality TV entertainment. Part of the show’s drama lies in the pre-work that readies these “motae solo,” or “eternal singles,” for their very first dating experiences. What makes this show different is that each participant is paired with a mentor, or “Cupid” (Seo In‑guk, Kang Han‑na, Lee Eun‑ji, or Car, the Garden), who guides them through personalized growth and dating skill-building.
Not only do they work with their mentees to “upgrade” their unique looks and style, the Cupids also offer dating advice and set up extracurriculars that the participants agree will help them be a better catch in the dating world (speech therapy, active listening classes, and even therapy). The fact that the producers behind Better Late Than Single provide cast members with access to therapists before, during, and after the show makes me think all the more of the show, though now it seems like an obvious necessity for young people placed in such a unique and vulnerable predicament for our entertainment.
Suffice to say, this is not standard fare for American culture, let alone American reality TV, where miscommunication and emotional immaturity are often rewarded. The Cupids also serve as hosts and commentators, analyzing the budding romances and awkward predicaments of the contestants—and I have to admit, their commentary is often comedy gold. My wife especially loved Car the Garden’s (really, that’s what he goes by) obvious urge to flee the room when secondhand embarrassment struck, and that Seo In-guk always kept a blanket in her lap in case she needed to cover her face. It was clear that these reality show hosts genuinely cared about their mentees and the other contestants—something that, to us, felt, well, foreign.
When you first meet the contestants all assembled, it’s hard to believe that any of them couldn’t get a date, even before their “makeovers.” They are all nice-looking people with good jobs (or good job prospects). But, as you might guess, many of these “eternal singles” suffer from an extraordinary level of social awkwardness. Jae-yun is so painfully shy that he goes into full vapor-lock while simply attempting small talk with a female participant. On another occasion, he sees two women coming his way, and he dives behind some wild reeds for protection. (The cupids rewatch this clip twice, utterly apoplectic over it.)
The men contestants in general (except, perhaps, Jeong-mok) are relatively hapless, but still difficult to dislike. If one didn’t believe the science that women’s brains mature faster than men’s, Better Late Than Single offers up one hell of an Exhibit A.
It’s easy to see why the relatively emotionally mature Jeong-mok becomes the standout favorite among the men—he’s polite, considerate, handsome in a nerdy way, and accessible. The female participants take note quickly, and he becomes the favorite of ⅔ on the XX chromosome side of the fence.
One male, Sang-ho, seems more intent on his high-carb desires than any female object of his affection. However infuriating he would be for any woman to date, the unbridled joy we see in Sang-ho whenever he gets a moment away from the other participants, where he can really enjoy his food, makes it impossible to dislike him. In one episode, when he is “stood up” on a date, rather than sit there pathetically or leave early, he orders several courses of seafood and starts shoveling. His satisfaction in this moment is so palpable that you might think it would be best for him if he could simply marry food.
Then there’s Seung-li, who, despite gaining the attention of the most sought-after female on the show, embarrassingly forgets significant, private details his chosen date shares with him. And, while on a double date, rather than paying his date attention, he prefers to have a drinking battle with the other male on the date, to the point where his date, Ji-su, asks pointedly if he would like to trade seats.
None of the women are afflicted with such social ingraces. After just two episodes, I no longer wondered why these young, lovely, and bright women were struggling to date. If Better Late Than Single is any indication of the male end of the dating pool, well, let’s just say it’s pretty shallow.
That said, all of the contestants register as decent and well-meaning people. Their curse is shyness, not entitlement or fame-seeking. Over the course of the show’s ten episodes, it hit me: regardless of what anyone thinks of reality TV and dating shows in general, the cultural difference between Better Late Than Single and any American show of the same ilk is striking.
How many times have you seen a preview for an American dating show and immediately thought, That looks like a hot mess? American dating shows cast for drama, thriving on the grotesque—you can practically smell the desperation through the screen. Watch as horny contestants rip off their clothes, curse like sailors, and nearly come to blows! It’s a parade of chaos: come see the accident waiting to happen, come see the rudeness, and the possibility of violence! Even the hosts seem less like guides and more like instigators, poking at the contestants and stirring the pot, all in the service of ratings.
Better Late Than Single isn’t some radical social experiment, but it is something rare for this kind of programming. It’s hopeful. It’s (relatively) humane. It’s earnest. There are no drunken hookups, no hot body contests, no one tearing off their clothes or threatening anyone–even when tensions rise. And most unusually: there are no assholes.
American producers might assume this lack of villainy would make for boring television—but they’d be wrong. When you actually care about everyone on screen, that’s real drama. And because the emotional stakes arise organically before our eyes, it becomes, at times, something this genre almost never is: genuinely riveting.
The absence of assholes and shameless fame-seekers means you’re not rooting for someone to get humiliated or dumped or kicked off the island. You’re not watching to see people get hurt. That, maybe more than anything, is what sets Better Late Than Single apart. On this show, you don’t want anyone to get hurt—and that makes it more dramatic than any screaming match or wet t-shirt meltdown could ever be.
Of course, people do get hurt. Feelings get bruised. Some moments are quietly devastating. But that pain isn’t manufactured. It doesn’t come from cruelty or manipulation—it comes from honest mistakes and mismatched intentions. These are naive, kind people trying to navigate something new–not narcissists cast to implode on cue. (As an American, I know the difference.)
When Jeong-mok and Yi Do sit in a softly lit room and decide they can’t remain friends after the show, my wife and I both had to stifle a tear. Okay, maybe my wife more than me, but I can’t deny it got to me.
Maybe Better Late Than Single won’t appeal to the average American viewer—we’ve grown used to the ginned-up drama of our homegrown reality shows. But the show has already cracked Netflix’s Top Ten in the U.S., and it’s not hard to see why. It offers something we didn’t know we were missing: an alternative. A dating show that cares about its contestants. A show that believes the search for a good-hearted partner comes with enough genuine emotion to make all the usual bells and whistles unnecessary. A show that knows the simple act of two hands hesitantly finding each other can stop your heart—on screen and on your couch.
Better Late Than Single is the best dating show I’ve ever seen. I’m sure some will read that and think it’s faint praise—and it is. But it’s more than just the best of its genre, with the best lighting, camera work, and cinematography. Watching Jeong-mok and a sleeper contestant on the ladies’ side begin to fall for each other—those moments made me lean forward and pay attention. Sang-ho eating alone at that restaurant could have been a scene out of a movie. I will never forget him swinging his jacket over one shoulder as he leaves, stylish in his rejection. Perhaps most memorable were the scenes at group dinners in the lounge, where you can imagine these dating show contestants, at least some of them, remaining friends after the show, perhaps meeting for a reunion in Seoul. One such moment was when the shyest member of the cast, Jae-yun, uses his chopsticks backwards to infuriate Lee Min-hong, who laughs, because he has remembered her peccadillo.
In sum, the view from the top of the reality programming hill may not be that of a glorious landscape, but it’s not a dumpster fire either. And if you’re going to support your partner’s appetite for junk food viewing, you could do a lot worse. In fact, I’m sure anything that isn’t Better Late Than Single will be worse.
