I admit it. I love to watch. I wait in anticipation for Chuck Woolery’s two and two bit before a commercial cut. I leave MTV on to see what Jenny McCarthy’s wearing, which one of my friends will be singled out and which guy will be cut in the “package” category.

What is it about dating shows that holds our attention? Haven’t you ever felt sorry for Chuck Woolery when he gets stuck in a tiff between the guy and girl? How about when he turns to talk to the boxed face floating in mid-air?

Not all dating shows are as noteworthy as “The Love Connection,” especially those named after an onomatopoeia. On “Bzzz!” the picker views a bunch of silhouettes and then one will pop out and they’ll have 30 seconds to answer a question the best they can. Who’s gonna watch a show they can’t even pronounce? Can you imagine yourself at a party? “Hey guys, did you watch ‘Bzzz!’ last night?” Once you’ve sufficiently spit on everyone in the group, don’t be surprised if you feel strangely lonely at the keg for the rest of the evening.

But while matchmaking rookies may come and go, none remain as dear to us as the head honchos themselves, the original “Dating Game.” They haven’t changed their tactics for decades now, and it shows. A field rep for San Diego told me looks don’t matter for them nearly as much as energy, personality and a real desire to get serious with someone. My Jewish grandmother would roll an extra knish in sheer delight of the latter.

And you know the “Dating Game” is the bomb when they go into their archives and find contestants from 1971 to be on their new show. I couldn’t help but overhear the Porsche-jacketed, Fred Mertz-pant wearing lad next to me be told that they were going to show a clip from his ’71 appearance.

So there I was, surrounded by 400 decked-out singles at the Mission Valley Marriott. Reporter or contestant? The choice wasn’t up to me.

A casting agent flipped me around “What’syourmostembarrassing moment?Tellmeastory!Whatdoyoulookforinaguy?” He took a breath and waited for my response.

I tried to explain that I was there to cover the event, but it didn’t matter. He told me that I had a personality for the screen and that I should fill out the six-page application, get my social security card and driver’s license copied, get my polaroid taken and get ready for my mock interview. He said that all in one breath, too.

I think God created roommates to accompany you to these sorts of missions because my roommate Jenna told the guy we were just there to observe and ask questions.

Beyond the “Dating Game” walls, a casting agent was calling up random contestants and whipping out equally random interrogations.

“Doyoulikebeachygirls?Tellmeastory.”

A guy in Bon Jovi-tight white jeans and equally glam cowboy boots said he was a leg man. A Drakkar-soaked German dude with one too many gold chains barked “yes” to the beachy girl question.

Hey, why not? These people are meeting the “Dating Game” challenge. They’re being put on the spot to answer lengthy, thought-provoking questions. It’s not just knockers, doorknobs or doorbells.

Casting agent Wendy Cooper told me this show is looking for people who are really looking for that someone special. I think that’s great. After watching one too many “Singled Out” episodes, you start to wonder if they’re just there to embarrass the kids or to test out Jenny’s Jim Carrey imitation of the week. At least that’s what she looks like up close. (Hey, I’m proud of being singled out for knockers.)

True, we can’t look forward to catching a guest appearance by Tom Selleck or Michael Richards. There’s no hot pink background and puke green swivel chairs. But the new “Dating Game” offers singles an alternative to sleazy bars, preppy coffeehouses and, ultimately, from accepting that Great Expectations phone call.

So let’s get in the spirit. Lean back, twist at the waist and blow Jenny and Chris a hearty kiss goodbye.