What’s to make of all this? Should Love is Blind be cancelled? Hell, no!
I feel like a dweeb, but I’ve watched all nine seasons of Love is Blind, Netflix’s hit reality dating show. If there’s a Love is Blind circumcision, I’m there! Yes, it’s contrived reality TV, but it also offers fascinating glimpses into the human psyche while forcing people to connect emotionally rather than visually. In this age of texting and social media, that’s no small task.
If you’re not familiar with the show, here’s a quick rundown. Participants (cast members/contestants) take turns dating one another for about ten days, sight unseen. Those who propose (and accept) go on a four-day trip to some warm locale, if they can stand the sight of one another. After this, it’s back to reality, well, kind of. Couples live together in a hotel for about three weeks before making it to the altar, where they either say “I do” or “I don’t.”
As mentioned, I enjoy the show, but here – in no particular order – are some unattractive truths about it.
Love is Blind often refers to itself as an “experiment,” as if it’s mandatory viewing for Soc 101. I take issue with this. The truth: it’s an experiment for its producers —how do you get the best ratings without any lawsuits, which LIB has had a few of?
After nine seasons, I (and many others) have reached this conclusion: love is not blind. Often, LIB participants are very attractive, and they discuss their appearances, as well as their ages, races, and ethnicities, in “the pods” where the blind dates take place. Somewhat recently, one participant took a beating for describing herself as a Megan Fox lookalike. The show’s title should have an asterisk: cast members are partially blind.
Montage courtesy Deadline
Sure, Love is Blind has had a few happily-ever-after success stories. However, for the most part, couples clash and never talk to one another again. The show’s title promises love. Ultimately, it often delivers just the opposite, which audiences seem to love. Misery is probably more entertaining than bliss.
This is an obvious one, but it must be mentioned. Most, if not all, cast members are looking for followers and screen time first, and love second, if at all. The show is making bank, and the cast members are making relatively nothing, so you can’t blame ‘em.
Without alcohol, audiences would probably drop Love is Blind. In short, booze fuels this juggernaut, loosening inhibitions and provoking all sorts of drama, not to mention humor. Cast members are constantly drinking out of the show’s signature metallic goblets, even when they’re making out in the Jacuzzi. One bro got blacked out drunk this season, creating wonderful TV.
And while the show has gone out of its way to show that there’s food readily available for cast members – something they’ve been criticized for in the past – we rarely see them eating it. This season, there were two conspicuous exceptions to this.
At the cast pool party, two bros got hammered as they shoved guacamole down their gullets and cracked obnoxious jokes. In another scene, a different bro scarfed a sandwich. He came across terrible, as if he were choosing food over love. Beware: if you eat on camera on LIB, you very well could get killed in the edit.
No surprise, Love is Blind is not 100 percent authentic. Cameras aren’t following the cast members 24/7, so some of the scenes are staged reenactments. Also, it appears – and I don’t have proof of this – that production sometimes uses Airbnb to pose as contestant apartments.
What’s to make of all this? Should Love is Blind be cancelled? Hell, no. While it’s often miserable for its participants, particularly this season, it’s great entertainment for viewers.
And once in a while, LIB actually gets a match. It’s collateral success.
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Jon Hart is the author of Unfortunately, I was available. Illustrated by Coverkitchen
