Re: Love Is Blind Season 10, Part Two
Ugh.
There’s a song lodged deep in my memory bank somewhere. I don’t recall the name, when I heard it, or legitimately anything else about it other than the line, “second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and a little bit worse.”
That’s how this awful show works. I like to think the producers and Netflix executives gather in a dimly lit conference room and chant that mantra over catered sushi.
“Season 10, same as 9, a little bit louder and a little bit worse…”
And then someone in a hooded robe nods solemnly and approves the budget.
My fussing aside, let’s proceed with the emotional flagellation.
Episode 3:
I’m still convinced the big dumb oaf guy (BDO) has terrible taste in women. But he was wearing boots during the first face-to-face meeting with the blonde crazy lady with unresolved high school issues. Boots are good because that means he was almost certainly wearing socks. In a show where the functional behavior bar is subterranean, sock-wearing counts as stability. If he keeps this solid work up, I might even look up his name later and stop calling him BDO.
Actually, no. He’ll always be BDO to me.
The soccer guy, Alex(?), remains exhausting. He broke himself at some point during his soccer career, and that career eventually tanked. Now his personality seems to consist primarily of a jaded, washed-up athlete masquerading thinly as stoic. He said one of his greatest life accomplishments was establishing himself as a person outside of being an athlete.
Sir. That is called baseline personal growth.
He’s interested in that one lady. Ashley? Alyssa? Something with vowels. They bonded over a book called The Alchemist and then compared their relationship to its story arc.
I did a casual Google search to verify this parallel literary destiny. Several books exist with that title, so I can’t entirely confirm which spiritual journey they’re allegedly on, but I feel safe in saying their pod flirtation is not a mythic allegory about treasure and self-discovery.
Before meeting the blonde lady face-to-face, he went on a monologue about how people tell him he’s super pretty, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a good person…yet. It went on so long I began reflecting on my own mortality. Sheesh.
Kevan—he of the crocheted shirt demographic—told Tyler he had feelings for the Watch Girl. Tyler responded, appropriately, “I don’t want to share you,” and left. Then he returned to the dude bros, confused, as though he had just announced he was adopting a mangey rescue puppy with a milky eye and she had overreacted.
Shortly after, the producers talked her back into the pod to try talking again. They both apologized for having thoughts and emotions, but that crocheted-shirt-wearing buffoon still could not comprehend why announcing parallel romantic pursuits might be upsetting for her.
Where. Do. They. Find. These. People.
Brace yourself. I’ve watched this next part twice and still can’t keep it straight.
Bri is interested in Connor and Chris. In the pod, Chris asked what she was wearing. She said a romper.
I would like to pause here and say that rompers are an affront to human engineering. If elected to public office, I would introduce some sort of bipartisan legislation banning them. There is no defensible reason for a garment that requires partial-to-full disrobing for basic biological functions, like peeing. We have evolved too far as a species for this.
But I digress.
Chris told her he wants to challenge her every day and force her to grow. Perhaps he meant “support,” but what came out felt more like a performance review. Romantic, but make it quarterly assessment.
Chris and Jess are also circling each other like an exotic species of mating birds. He’s concerned she’s six years older than he is. I’m more concerned that she said one of the biggest hurdles is just finding someone to get over the next hurdle, only to then turn to the next hurdle, in an indefinite cycle of hurdles.
He also commits unspeakable violence against the word “like.” A drinking game based on his usage would hospitalize a small group of college kids. If I were producing this show, I’d bleep every instance so viewers would assume he’s using even more explicit language than the Mature rating allows.
He also said neither of them wants kids—but if she were open to it, maybe they would—and she’d be a great mom for reasons that remain unsubstantiated.
Connor or Chris has a tattoo on their butt. One of them wants kids with Emma; she does not want kids; it got awkward. I no longer know who is who. Names are dissolving into a beige slurry of ConnorChrisJessEmmaBri.
As someone who severely struggles with remembering names and faces, this show is an absolute nightmare on top of the preexisting reasons why it’s already a nightmare. All of the guys and gals look the same. The whole Connor and Chris and Jess and Emma and Bri back and forth and forth and back and back to back to the fourth and back. I still can’t keep things straight.
These people are idiots.
But not as big an idiot as I am for voluntarily writing this.
Episode 4:
No.
I cannot.
I do not possess the emotional bandwidth required to continue.
Excuse me while I hibernate and contemplate my present life choices—and the entire cascading series of prior decisions that have deposited me here, recapping strangers discussing rompers in windowless pods.
*searches for structurally unsound drywall to abruptly place head through*