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B+C: Why do you think so many of us are overthinking things, especially in the age of modern social media?

Amanda Montell: I decided to title the book The Age of Magical Overthinking because I couldn't help but notice that there just seems to be an inexplicable, excessive [amount of] delulu in the culture despite the fact we're living in the so-called information age. Everything from people with Master's degrees basing their genuine decisions on astrology to, you know, my neighbors opting not to get the Covid vaccine because a TikToker — a like, white girlie with a Bindi — told them it would downgrade their DNA.

Stuff like that didn't seem to check out for me, especially since we're ostensibly living in a time when you can fact check anything with the click of a button. I was like, 'What is going on here,' and as it turns out, what is going on is this innate clash between our innate decision-making shortcuts — the processes by which we always jump to conclusions in order to make quick decisions to make sense of the world enough to survive it. There's a clash between those age old decision-making methods called cognitive biases and the information age in a way that is ending up pretty explosive for society at large...and is causing us a great deal of existential pain.

So, magical thinking — or the idea that our internal thoughts can affect external events — is a human quirk that has been around since the dawn of our species. But I think overthinking is really a product of the modern age or result of this capitalistic pressure to be right about everything under the sun...

B+C: How do you think this is impacting the way we interact with each other?

Amanda Montell: There's a lot going on. We need to interact in person in order to have empathy...to establish the social glue that keeps us from getting into extremely fraud and sometimes violent ideological conflict. I think there's the idea that the internet is causing ideological rifts to widen and I think in a way that's true, but what's more problematic is the fact we are engaging in social discourse in a medium that prevents that empathy from holding us together.

I think almost everyone can relate to the experience of receiving a curt email from a boss or receiving a salty Instagram comment that sends us into fight or flight. We're responding to non-threats — these sort of abstract disagreements or fake problems — that we're projecting panic onto.

B+C: Can you break down the halo effect for our readers?

Amanda Montell: It was so much fun to explore this particular cognitive bias early in the book because I felt like it really would set up the whole thesis of it quite well. Basically the halo effect is this penchant admire one quality in a person — their fashion sense, their intelligence, the way they blend an oat milk latte — and then assume they must be perfect overall. This halo effect connects to the ways ancient humans used to find role models for survival purposes in our communities.

Ages ago, you used to clock someone in your small village with big muscles...and figure, 'Oh they must be a skilled hunter or they've avoided disfigurement from battle. I would love to align myself with this person for survival,' even though you're jumping to conclusions about them. Their big muscles might not necessarily indicate that they're skilled in battle or they're a good hunter, but it's an efficient enough decision to make.

We're not mapping that conclusion jumping onto modern parasocial relationships. We see a pop star whose music we really connect to and assume they must be educated, worldly, nurturing, they're political beliefs align with ours in this particular time when we're losing so much trust in the government...Basically since the Regan era — our first celebrity President — celebrities have really started swerving into other aspects of life (spiritual, political, etc.,)...

Rapid Fire Q&A

B+C: What are some some of the things you're currently obsessing over?

Amanda Montell: That's so funny you asked that because on this new podcast — The Magical Overthinkers — I also am opening every episode by asking 'What's an irrational thought spiral that's living rent-free in your head?'

I am totally overthinking my book tour outfits right now. Speaking of consumerism as like a distracting or numbing exercise, launching a book is very stressful and the one thing that made me feel some sense of relief is just shopping for cute outfits. I've been buying a lot of plaid skirt suits. The vibe is definitely 90s nostalgic, a little dark academia meets cochette.

B+C: If you were to give yourself five days to unplug from social media, how would you spend your time?

Amanda Montell: Great question. You know what? I'm setting up a week like this for myself in May after the book tour stuff dies down. After my last book Cultish came out, I was unwell in the mind. I felt so exposed and so fragile. I was like, 'I need to send myself on some kind of retreat,' so I sent myself on this little solo excursion to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina and it was so healing...I went and lived in an Airstream for a couple of days. I was doing nature walks and lying in a hammock journaling...

The Age of Magical Overthinking

Watch the Full Interview with Amanda Montell:

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?

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.

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.

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.

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...?

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.

Ross and Rachel from Friends

Friends is one of the most iconic sitcoms of all times, and Ross and Rachel is definitely one of the most devastating TV breakups. In season 3, this iconic couple decides to take a break in and in "The One with the Morning After," Ross wakes up with another woman named Chloe at the exact moment Rachel shows up at his door. Rachel finds out about the affair, and after a fight in Monica's living room, the couple calls it quits.

Regardless of how you feel about Ross claiming they "were on a break" when he slept with Chloe, seeing Rachel's reaction (and knowing the trust between them was broken) is one of the worst moments in the whole show. Just thinking about it makes my stomach bottom out!

Rory and Jess from Gilmore Girls

This is one of my personal most-devastating TV breakups because it seems like, out of all of Rory's boyfriends, Rory and Jess are just perfect for each other when they start dating. Not only does their love of books bring them closer together, but their personalities are so compatible. But when Jess leaves for California at the end of season 3 — without saying anything to Rory, I might add — is unacceptable! It breaks my heart, and based on the final look he gives Rory during A Year in the Life, he also regrets it BIG TIME.

Damon and Elena from The Vampire Diaries

This Vampire Diaries couple was truly endgame, and the will-they-won't-they of it all was one of my favorite things about the show. So when they broke up (to my horror), I was devastated.

Damon and Elena admit they're bad for each other in the season 5 episode "While You Were Sleeping" (then Damon tells her he doesn't even want to be friends. Ouch!!), but it's the season finale, "Home," that makes me extra emotional. When Damon gets stuck with Bonnie on the Other Side, he says goodbye to Elena, who's begging him not to leave but can neither see nor hear him. Say it with me: gut! wrenching!

Conrad and Belly from The Summer I Turned Pretty

The Summer I Turned Pretty fans are PASSIONATE about whether they're team Conrad or team Jeremiah (trick question, my OTP is Taylor and Stephen), and even the most dedicated Conrad stan hates the prom scene. You know, when he breaks up with Belly at her prom, in the rain. I know he just thinks Belly deserves better, but it's still very painful to watch.

Schmidt and Cece from New Girl

When I hear "devastating TV breakup" I IMMEDIATELY think of Schmidt and Cece from New Girl. Schmidt gets away with a lot of ridiculous things throughout this show, but dating two girls at one time is not one of them. After Nick has a hard time keeping Schmidt's love life a secret, Schmidt finally comes clean to Cece in "Double Date," leaving both her and me in tears. No matter how many times you rewatch the show, it truly feels like their relationship (and maybe even the friend group) will never recover.

Fleabag and The Priest on Fleabag

In the history of TV, I don't think I've ever heard anything as heartbreaking as "I love you," "It'll pass." Like, who approved that line?! The viral moment comes at the end of the Fleabag series finale, when Fleabag is sitting with The Priest at the bus stop. Over the course of the series, we not only see how much these two care about each other, but how well they know each other (like how The Priest recognizes when Fleabag zones out). To be loved is to be known, and that's what makes this devastating TV breakup even more devastating.

Carrie and Aidan on Sex and the City

After so much back and forth, it's hard to accept Carrie and Aidan's final breakup on SATC. But in season 4's "Change of a Dress," Carrie realizes she's not ready for marriage and Aidan realizes he doesn't trust her after her affair with Big. The combo of broken trust and being at two different life stages makes this extra painful to watch, and I don't think any amount of rewatches (or And Just Like That binges) is going to change that.