At first glance, the show seems like just another excuse for female viewers to ogle some chiseled, half-naked pretty boy. "Farmer Wants a Wife"? More like "Farmer Needs a Shirt."

But the series, in which 10 "city girls" go about wooing hunky 29-year-old farmer Matt Neustadt, is a reality rarity: It's mostly sweet, if goofily so, full of hayrides, barn dances and county fairs. (Of course, that doesn't keep The CW from going overboard with the agricultural innuendo, filling each commercial for the show with jokes about hoes, rolls in the hay and getting plowed.)

And while you get the feeling that, like most dating show stars, he needs help finding a woman like "The Hills' " Heidi and Spencer need help finding the paparazzi, Matt comes across as charming and likable. For some reason, you want him to be happy.

But then there's Josie, who stomps onto the scene like a more ambulatory version of Amber, Amy Poehler's gassy, one-legged reality show contestant from "Saturday Night Live."

"I think of myself as a 10-plus. That's part of being a Republican," Josie says, right off the bat, and you know you're in for a wild, more-than-likely-scripted ride.

Before leaving for tiny Portage des Sioux, Mo. (pop. 351), Josie stops by a boutique in search of "something sexy, flashy, kinda farmery."

But the real kicker comes a few seconds later, when the math teacher/Playboy Cyber Girl -- And, really, where was that combo when I was in school? -- talks about why she's on the show: "I think this would be a wonderful lifestyle. Riding horses. Going to polo matches."

Now, I have as low an opinion of the average reality contestant's intellect as anyone. But I flat out refuse to believe even this wannabe Barbie actually thinks farmers get any closer to polo than occasionally wearing the shirts. She's 25, blond and from Southern California. Trust me, she's seen "The Simple Life."

Conveniently, The CW already is running "get a load of Josie"-themed promos, which means that before the series even debuts, the network has made "Farmer Wants a Wife" less about the farmer allegedly looking for love and more about the scary girl who just wants to be on TV.

You know we're in dark times when even something as overly contrived as this has to be manipulated.

Reality shows used to be a means to an end -- HBO would air "Real Sex" and "Taxicab Confessions" to bring in subscribers to help pay for its original comedies and dramas -- but now they've become the end.

Over the next couple of months, the networks will roll out 20 unscripted series, hoping that any of them -- from a jingle-writing competition to something called "I Survived a Japanese Game Show" -- connects with enough viewers that it could replace a pricey comedy or drama.

And the practice isn't going to stop anytime soon.

The worst-case scenario is what happened to Bravo. There was a time when you could count on the cable channel to provide a touch of class to your evening, be it through "West Wing" reruns or Cirque du Soleil specials. Now, those are gone, and "Inside the Actors Studio's" James Lipton seems to be clinging for dear life to his note cards and that questionnaire from Bernard Pivot.

Instead, Bravo recently announced plans for seven new series that will bring the number of its reality shows to a staggering 18.

And if "The Real Housewives of Orange County" and "The Real Housewives of New York City" weren't enough, you can look forward -- or not -- to "The Real Housewives of New Jersey" and "Date My Ex," which will follow former "Orange County" cast member Jo De La Rosa's search for love.

If, God forbid, Farmer Matt is seriously looking for a wife, maybe a crossover show could hook the two of them up.

It couldn't be any more artificial than "Farmer Wants a Wife."

Christopher Lawrence's Life on the Couch column appears on Mondays. E-mail him at clawrence@reviewjournal.com.