Love Is Blind is horrifying. Of course I can’t stop watching it.
If you’re familiar with my writing, you know I often like to point out that certain shows coded as “guilty pleasures” are anything but.
Love Is Blind is not like that. When I watch it, I feel terrible for humanity. It’s a successful concept that says something dark about our culture.
It’s not that the premise is all bad. The idea of falling in love with someone without seeing them first is pretty cool. But Love Is Blind is too gimmicky and dramatic for that. In fact, it actively encourages drama, which is part of the reason it’s dealing with lawsuits.
What makes for good TV isn’t always good for the human psyche.
Still, I had to watch the seventh season, filmed as it was in my old stomping ground of DC (well, more like across the river, as real DCists will cattily point out). I was prepared to be extra horrified, and I was not disappointed.
The absolute worst character on this season so far is aggressively manipulative nepo baby Leo, who can’t shut up about his Rolex. Leo represents many of the things that are wrong with your typical DC man — huge ego, not a lot of substance, but as competitive with the other men as a greyhound at the track. I don’t know if the producers encouraged Leo to say all of the shit that he’s said to the camera, or if it comes to him naturally, but what an embarrassing indictment of the DC dating scene. (Yes, I’ll admit it, I ran into a few Leos myself when I was around, which is why that sinking feeling from watching Leo confidently make the most trash-tastic statements possible was so familiar).
What makes for good TV isn’t always good for the human psyche.
Of course, it’s the kind of embarrassment you can’t look away from. This is precisely what Netflix banks on. Again, the formula works. It’s just sad how it works.
It’s not like Love Is Blind hasn’t resulted in some happy couples over the years. It has! You just have to wonder if the fleeting fame and lingering bullshit was worth it to the other contestants.
Without spoiling anything if you’re not caught up yet, Leo’s arc ends predictably and weirdly. And to be honest, that weirdness has been one of the most authentic elements of this season. Because while love can definitely be blind, the dogged pursuit of it can also lead you to uncomfortable places (not that I think people like Leo look for love as much as they look for validation).
Some people think that Love Is Blind is so addictive because we’re a marriage-obsessed culture in a time when the institution itself is in crisis, even though the divorce rate has actually dropped a little. I actually just think that we love watching people embarrass themselves on TV, and the noble pursuit of your soulmate is just another one on the list of our excuses.
Of course, as much as I bitch and moan about the terrible addictiveness of this show — and can’t help but wonder what it says about me that I watch it — I have tried to put it in perspective. People used to watch hangings and gladiators killing each other for fun. As far as history goes, the bar for entertainment is consistently low. In that sense, the crassness of reality TV is an improvement.
Still, I have to wonder if there are better ways to produce reality shows about love and dating. I used to be immersed in documentary cinema and even worked as a producer once, and there is something much more human about a process in which the camera simply follows its subjects around, and a clever editing process, as opposed to tugging on people as if they’re marionettes stuck in the spotlight holding trademark golden wine glasses.
Of course, thoughtful narratives and longer timelines are harder to sell. One of the ways in which Love Is Blind is seductive is that it is simply pretty looking, a perfect mixture of poison and roses.
The people want what they want. Me included. I hate to admit it, but it’s true.