In Seven's latest foray into relationship train-crash telly, the big question "will you marry me" is but a sideshow. The real drama is in the disapproving response of the couples' families to the looming nuptials.
But after watching Monday night's premiere, you'd have to say Bride & Prejudice raises a whole bunch of other questions too, all of them revolving around the word "why".
Like why, in this day and age, are there still people so narrow-minded that the thought of their (white) child marrying someone with dark skin is a crisis big enough to demand a UN peacekeeping intervention.
Why do we still have parents so threatened by their child's homosexuality that they'd rather cut off communication than learn to cope with a little mincing. (And, as a side note, why do some gay men hook up with a partner who looks, well, a lot like them.)
Why does an 18-year-old Kardashian wannabe – with botoxed lips, hair extensions, and falsies of every stripe – think she's ready for marriage when her true love is clearly herself. Why does her 20-year-old fiancée think the statement "I've had my fun" – with its implication that there'll be no more of that, thank you very much – is a good basis from which to launch into married bliss.
And why does his mother think she has the right to prevent his plump-lipped Barbie-doll betrothed from "taking my boy away from me". As Dr Freud would no doubt tell her, it's his matrimonial bed of (false) nails – let him lie in it.
But the biggest question Bride & Prejudice prompts is why on Earth would anyone go on it?
Dysfunction and emotional trauma is bad enough when borne privately; surely parading it in front of the camera and a scoffing/judging/disbelieving audience only makes it worse.
I can almost understand why someone might opt to go on a dating show such as The Bachelor or Married at First Sight. It's a lark, it's something to do, there's nothing real at stake, and who knows, something might come of it – if not lasting romance (very unlikely) then maybe a career as a second-tier celebrity (hello jungle).
Of course, it helps if your default mode of discourse is ironic; if nothing registers very deeply, there's little chance of being hurt. And if you look like a fool, that's OK, too – it's all part of the game.
But when what's at stake is your real life, one in which sincerity would seem to be a necessary condition of success, it doesn't make much sense. The stakes are too high, surely, for it to be fashioned into entertainment.
Then again, maybe Grant and Chris, the gay couple on Bride & Prejudice, and Donny (whose heritage is Indian) and Marina (Ukrainian) aren't reality show dummies at all, but rather martyrs for a cause.
Maybe they are on this show to remind those of us who live inside the liberal rainbow-coloured bubble that there is a whole other world of prejudice out there. Maybe they're hoping to show those who live outside that bubble what they look like from the other side: racists, homophobes, narrow-minded bigots.
I sure wouldn't do it, and I don't imagine everyone's motives are quite so honourable. But if that's how any of the star-crossed lovers of Bride & Prejudice answer the question "why", I'm more than willing to shower them with my handful of confetti.
It'll make a change from the brickbats coming their way, at least.
Karl Quinn is on facebook at karlquinnjournalist and on twitter @karlkwin