For the Love of Dilfs review – Stormy Daniels’s gay dating show is a hoot from start to finish | Television


Occasionally, a television show comes along and breaks the star rating system. How to assign new reality series For the Love of Dilfs (Froot TV) a measure of value or approval? I have no idea. Take these three stars as a placeholder, a question mark, an admission that I do not trust my own taste or judgment when it comes to the philosophical conundrum that holds this all together: “Can a daddy and a himbo fall in love?” Let’s see, shall we?

Hosted by Stormy Daniels – and I say “hosted” loosely, as both Daniels and the voiceover person, “Dr Dilf”, are as stiff as, oh, you get what we’re working with here – this is basically a queer Love Island, and many reality viewers have been wondering what that might look like. Here it is! For the Love of Dilfs (that must be Daddies I’d Like To [respectfully engage with] Forever) shoves a group of younger men, known as the himbos, and a group of older men, known as the daddies, into a huge mansion, and tries to get them to fall in love.

The contestants are aiming to be part of the last couple standing, and thus walk away with $10,000. Dr Dilf announces the cash prize, then (in what might as well be audible parentheses) reluctantly adds, “and true love”. Each week, they sit around chatting, do a few tasks, someone gets booted off, and someone new arrives. As is standard these days, it’s billed as an experiment, though the experiment is “Will these men appearing on a reality show called For the Love of Dilfs have sex with each other?”, so I’m not sure you need a PhD in biochemistry to put that to the test.

It should really be called Dilf Island. If it were not set in a mansion on what appears to be a mainland, perhaps it might have been. Its to-camera interviews look an awful lot like those in its heterosexual sibling-in-spirit, though its antics and dialogue make Love Island seem awfully polite. “When I saw the jockstrap, I just knew, like, that’s my guy,” says Tony, a sweet Disney prince in a white tank top that reads “Babe”. He is a himbo, as is Nathan, from San Diego, who informs viewers: “I have a passion for talking and vocalising my thoughts.” Never mind the daddies, I think Nathan might be my soulmate.

The first task involves the himbos picking over a jumble sale-style table to choose the personal item and piece of underwear that appeals to them the most. A blind tasting, if you will. The daddies then enter, claim their possessions, and are matched with the himbo who most loved their pants for a one-on-one date. “I’ve done the apps …” sighs Jeffrey, a “multi-hyphenate” actor, director and performer from New York City. “This might actually work for me.” One wonders if Jeffrey is investing a bit too much in his time on For the Love of Dilfs: he is not yet out to his family, and sees appearing on the show as the push he needs to tell them that he’s gay. What a push.

Truthfully, this is a hoot from start to finish. It borrows the very contemporary idea of adding a self-aware, meta element to its reality framework. Dr Dilf is sarcastic about the need for so many establishing shots of the mansion. It refers to itself as a “hypersexualised reality show”. Even the tension, when it appears, is there to fulfil the reality show brief (briefs?), as two himbos go to war. Stormy Daniels may not be an immediate natural at delivering her lines, but she’s got a great rapport with both daddies and himbos, and unlike a lot of reality shows, it does actually look as if they’re all having fun. Plus, there’s a bit of depth from their personal stories, though not too much – frowning might ruin some of those flawlessly smooth foreheads.

It’s a sentence I am quite surprised to be writing, but this is a boom time for Milfs and Dilfs in the romantic reality TV world. I haven’t yet had the chance to see Milf Manor, the already notorious US reality series which somehow doesn’t see an issue with putting sons’n’mums into a shared dating experience, and for that I am grateful, but I have to admit that I am enjoying the Dilf side of things a lot. It is lean, not-so-clean fun that knows we’ve seen it all before – at least in terms of reality TV – and simply wants to have fun with what it’s got. And who are we to deny these himbos and daddies their rightful romantic destinies?

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