Last week, I arrived at a third date with a handsome and eligible bachelor. Before I’d even had the chance to set my purse down, my phone began pinging incessantly. I apologized, sheepishly, silencing my device and explaining to him that it’s simply my group text from work. Our Love Is Blind thread, specifically, I clarified. I began to explain—surely gratuitously—that Season 6 had just ended, and the night prior the salacious Reunion had aired so the group was debriefing. It’s all likely nonsense—but he stopped me mid-spiel, emphatically asserting, “Oh, I know. I love that show.”
By the time I’d left his house some time later, the screen of my iPhone flashed news of texts from now three separate threads—disparate friend groups—each digital discourse eager to unpack all that had transpired during last week's follow up from the messy Season 6 finale the week prior.
Courtesy of Netflix
Since its debut on February 14, Love Is Blind Season 6 has taken viewers across the globe (yes, the globe—my London-based sister is a devoted watchee) on a journey. We’ve gathered for the proposals, the dismissals, the guffaws, and the cringes alike, collectively sitting on the edge of ours eats wondering: will they or won’t they? And, while there are indeed a myriad of hot takes to unpack from the final three episodes of Season 6, I’ve found my brain clouded by another query: why is Love Is Blind is so damn watchable in the first place?
Courtesy of Netflix
Reality TV is often dismissed by the masses as a collective evil. A vapid, low-brow, mindless behemoth of capitalistic exploitation with little to offer in the way of social and cultural enrichment. A waste of time; a media outlet designed only for the lowest common denominator of viewership. In fact, reality TV opponents are so vocal that naysayers have even lobbied against the industry as a whole, claiming the long term effects of watching this form of unscripted entertainment are very real and, more importantly, very detrimental.
According to a 2023 Rolling Stones article, “Not only have studies proven [reality TV] affects our mental health, research has also shown a correlation between watching certain programs and an increase in aggression, manipulation, and narcissism in viewers.” Yikes.
Admittedly, it was not long ago that I, too, was in the camp of people who steadfastly maintained a pretentious judgment for all things reality. I just appreciate shows with a bit more... substance, I’d pompously assert at dinner parties to anyone trying to convince me otherwise.
Courtesy of Netflix
When my dad suffered a life-altering stroke in 2018, however, somehow this catastrophic personal event coincided perfectly with the airing of Arie Luyendyk’s season of The Bachelor. Try as I might to look elsewhere, allowing the darkness of my personal life to slip away during these weekly two-hour reality show ventures was the perfectly mindless antidote to all of the stress I was experiencing in my waking hours.
Similarly, that same year, when my husband’s mother was diagnosed with Cancer, my sister-in-law and I began ceremoniously ending each night of caregiving by sitting on the couch with Ramona, LuAnn, Sonja, Dorinda, and Bethenny, soothing ourselves to sleep with the dulcet sounds of The Real Housewives of New York arguing over bottle number eight of Veuve whilst on girls’ weekend in the“Bezerkshires.”
I can say with confidence: I truly do not think I would have made it through my personal year of hell without the vacuous outlet provided to me by all things reality TV. Since then, I’ve been hooked. After all, nothing like the zeal of a convert.
In 2022, BBC Radio 4 released the podcast Unreal: A Critical History of Reality TV. Now, for anyone living under a rock, it’s pertinent to note that the BBC is a British media conglomerate that is generally considered to be highly reputable. Thus, their content is, of course, consistently credible. Throughout Unreal, a 10-part investigative radio series, the BBC critically examines the irreplaceable role reality TV plays in defining, mirroring, and preserving the social and cultural zeitgeist of a given era. The program presents reality television history chronologically, episodically unpacking the most highly-watched reality TV shows across the last, now, fifty-some years, beginning with 1973’s An American Family—the prolific reality vanguard, widely considered to be the bellwether for this era of media consumption.
Besides being a must-listen, Unreal makes the case that reality television should not be written off simply as fluff. On the contrary, journalists (and hosts) Pandora Sykes and Sirin Kales suggest that reality TV provides, arguably, one of the most astute reflections of a society at a given time. I don’t necessarily disagree. Which brings me back to Love Is Blind—and, more acutely, the fact that almost every single person I know (collectively spanning a myriad of genders, sexualities, races, and ages) has dutifully tuned in to each and every episode of Season 6. Surely there is something more prescient to be gleaned from a show with this much cross-cultural buy-in. A show whose viewership spans, quite literally, all identities.
Courtesy of Netflix
What is it about LIB that has us all hooked? Yes, there are the scandals (Trevor was in love with someone else! JerAmey was engaged! Kwame and Chelsea are... still together?). Or maybe it’s the backdoor legal cover-ups (according to one knowledgeable TikTok user: the vetting process is nonsense, producers are suing contestants for breaching NDAs, and any engaged participant who fails to make it to the altar has to pay the studio an alleged $50K). Or, further still, perhaps it’s simply the fact that, due to social media, we can all now follow the contestants in real time, peering voyeuristically into their lives as they unabashedly, and simultaneously, air their dirty laundry on national television. The only thing I think we can all agree is not the culprit for committed viewership is Nick and Vanessa Lachey’s gormless double act.
Courtesy of Netflix
Alternative theories aside, perhaps the real reasoning behind our collective addiction is far more simple. The Occam's razor of it all, if you will. Perhaps we are all hooked simply because we are sitting here, in partial disbelief, wondering: what the heck is love anyway? Are these people—or any people, for that matter—actually able to “fall in love” without knowing what someone looks like? Is it genuinely possible to commit to a lifelong partnership after a mere 38 days of knowing someone? And, if we are indeed to allow ourselves, as viewers, to believe in this process (or, more shrewdly, allow ourselves to suspend our disbelief), how does this potential “reality” inform our own view of love? After watching this season—and, with it, exploring these theories on my own—I venture to argue the show itself could be retitled: Love Is...?
Courtesy of Netflix
It doesn’t help that Americans are facing an unprecedented era of isolation and solitude. Commonly referred to as the Loneliness Epidemic, studies over the last two years have shown that Americans—of all ages, races, genders, sexualities, and so on—are far more likely to experience feelings of solitude than ever before. Bearing this disturbing reality in mind, it’s hard to look at a show like Love Is Blind without a more critical eye attuned to unearthing what itch this program is scratching for so many viewers in search of love themselves. Is meeting someone blind the answer to our collective cries of loneliness? Hard to say, yes—but, also foolish to disregard completely at this point.
I do not know exactly why we all keep watching LIB, season in and season out. But, if Unreal’s assertion is to be believed, then one must accept that something about this show is indeed capturing the current cultural milieu. Maybe we all are, in fact, watching in search of a mindless outlet to serve as the salve for adulthood’s ever-increasing stressors. Or perhaps we keep tuning in to further inform our own subjective views of love, partnership, and marriage. Whatever the case, the [not so] cult following is real and, I would go so far as to say, deserved.
Lawsuits, scandals, and in-joke Tweets notwithstanding, you bet we will all be tuning for Season 7 when the time comes. But, in the meantime, onto Love Is Blind Sweden. Though the subtitles are a bit of a beast at first, once you get past that minor literary challenge, you’ll be hooked in no time.
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