Watching an episode of “Catfish: The TV Show” always turns me into a version of the Weekend Update duo on “Saturday Night Live.” Seeing these people believe they’re in love with someone they’ve never met always has me asking “Really!?”

Seth and Amy would be proud, no doubt. Yet despite the flaws and questionable mechanics, I can’t help but be intrigued by the MTV reality show that aims to expose the truths and lies behind online relationships.

I viewed the original 2010 documentary the show is based on (appropriately titled “Catfish”) that follows the cyber relationship of Nev, who now hosts the show. I found it surprisingly moving, so I figured I’d tune into the TV show created just two years later.

Of course I was hesitant — I had strong evidence that most MTV reality shows are fabricated. Remember those good ol’ afternoons watching “Room Raiders” and “Parental Control?” Yeah, me neither. But I’ve heard of such horrors.

Then the Manti Te’o fake girlfriend scandal became headline news. Suddenly, I realized that people getting hoaxed by online profiles may actually be a thing.

Watching “Catfish” is like watching a bizarre dating show that’s hard to look away from. Each episode fills the initial seconds with flash forwards of Nev knocking on a mysterious side door. Will the person behind said door be who they say they are? Or someone else entirely? Immediately, you’re hooked — pun intended.

The first season explored a wide array of “catfishes” (people who pretend to be someone else online). The excellent part was the varying reasons as to why these people had lied to their partner and evaded meeting them in the first place: confused about their sexuality, embarrassed about their weight… even revenge.

In one episode, the catfish turned out to be the girl’s ex-best friend concocting a vengeful scheme because she had previously dated her ex-boyfriend. It almost turned into an episode of “The Jerry Springer Show.”

I also enjoy the opposing personalities of the hosts. Nev is the optimist, a strong believer in true love. He’s sympathetic, since he’s been through the process, and he comes heavily equipped with positive encouragement. Max, on the other hand, is a stone-cold realist, always raising his eyebrow at the slightest whiff of trouble. Their bickering bromance is adorable and hilarious to watch.

It’s undoubtedly a fun ride, but easy to roll your eyes at. The people who come to Nev, asking for help to meet their “soulmate” (it’s always their soulmate) are obviously blinded by the easy bliss of a faceless relationship.

So Nev and Max do some investigating on the fake profile. Their top-notch tool is Google, of course. Usually they find the same red flags: the person has only 10 Facebook friends, only a few pictures and a listed job of “model” or, my personal favorite, “self-promoting rapper.”

Honestly, why can’t these people figure this out on their own? It definitely doesn’t require two quasi-experts with a few video cameras to crack the case. But, alas, we wouldn’t have a crazy fun TV show.

With the second season halfway through, I’ve noticed a decline in truly heartbreaking, inspiring stories. Instead, viewers have seen catfish that are outright malicious. In one episode, the mysterious boy this sweet girl had fallen in love with was just a grade-A asshole looking to brush up on his game. He basically used her.

Another catfish was on a crazed crusade to stop men who cheat on their girlfriends with online strangers. I was legitimately scared for Nev’s safety in that episode. (But not really — I’m sure Max would have come to his rescue.)

So despite the generic feel of a typical MTV reality show and these increasingly ridiculous stories, “Catfish” is still enjoyable and relevant to a generation that practically lives online.

Just remember to stay away from those self-promoting rappers.