Dear beloved readers,

Piano Man is playing at my beloved café, and I am afraid that alone is the most distracted I can possibly be. But, I come here today with a pipping hot topic to discuss – yes, desperate housewives have those too. In truth, I had a very stressful week, as most of my weeks have been. It sucks because, as much of an unpopular opinion as this is, planning a wedding is not fun, I mean it is worth it but fun? Fun is having an iced latte while you chill with your husband somewhere nice and exotic, which leads me to my point: Planning a wedding is only fun because you know that, the minute it is over, you literally have a mandatory vacation with your honeymoon. I got married a week before my classes came back into session. In the core of winter. I had no honeymoon, I’ve been stressed and tired, and hence today’s topic. 

Last Saturday, after coming here and writing to you guys, I embraced the faith of my weekend with laundry and a pre-Super Bowl excitement that, sadly, was very short lived. And then I did my favorite thing of the week that is, watched reality shows. RuPaul’s Drag Race is on right now, watched it, loved it. And then Love Is Blind came back for an hour to fill my time and, as sad as Raven and SK made me feel, I cannot say I was that entertained since TikTok had already dissected that entire drama to me. So yeah, I was feeling a little dry and sad, safe to say, I needed more. 

Now, as a reality TV mogul (at least I like to think that I am), I needed something to fill up my time, and I must say, I had heavy prejudices going into the show that I am about to discuss. Here’s the thing, when Netflix released Love Is Blind, it obviously worked for me because the premise felt albeit ridiculous, insanely interesting. Come on now, we are in the twenty first century, where looks and social media presence are everything that matters, it was fucking interesting to see these people attempting to fall in love inside a goddamn pod, and even more so, their work on a relationship outside in the real world – because trust me, I am married, relationships are work. But, other shows like, say, for example, Too Hot To Handle, I couldn’t stand it. I tried to watch it, I thought it was the kind of fuckery that would be perfect for me and the blog, but it was too awful for me to be able to stand it. It felt like some sick, twisted game, with a very shallow goal. The stakes of that show were not merely low, they were in the ground. You are telling me all these hot chicks have to do is stay away from these muscly bros with the brain capacity of a five years old? To win cash? I am sorry, I would’ve won that shit with flying colors. It takes more than a body for me to be even remotely interested, and I know for a fact, most people are like this too. 

Now, when I found out about the so-called Perfect Match, things did get interesting. It felt, kinda, like a Love Is Blind meets Too Hot To Handle moment, and not only because half of the cast consists of a mix and match of both, but because it kinda is…Singles, in a gorgeous house, having to match with someone (consensually), and the couple that survives, and (allegedly) builds that connection further, gets to win the catch. The stakes are there, love is involved, and next thing I knew I clicked “play.”

I won’t discuss this show, at least not this week, in depth like I usually do. I won’t sit here and tell about all the fucked up dynamics, how this show is literally trash, a good trash but still, and how it is ever so clear to me that none of these people are a perfect match, nor they want to be. Everyone there is merely trying to get followers and what not, it’s evident, and no one is there for the right reasons it seems – besides the Jersey girl from that Netflix furry show that I certainly did not even entertain the idea of watching. But is it reality TV golden? Yes. I mean god, there are so many problematic people grouped together, and the worst part, I feel like I know these people so well from their past reality shows, that it is so fucking intriguing. The way that Chase shook everyone to their very cores when he walked through the door, the way Samantha and Francesca had a 2008 level bitch fight right then and there without even looking at each other’s faces, the way Nick seems to be trying to, over and over, try to be the worst douchebag in the world when we all know damn sure he is a puppy in this dog-mad world…*chef’s kiss*

But what I want to talk about this week (and yes, it took me nearly three pages to get to it) is the F-word, as she was called. The first contestant to enter the house, the one that has already mentioned in this very post, the one that every boy right there, allegedly looking for a relationship, were sniffing from a mile away, the one, the only: Francesca. 

Now, as I said before, I did not watch Too Hot to Handle, but I did watch and LOVED the first season of Love is Blind, and if you know anything about that iconic reunion, you know damn well that girl shook things up in a way that I didn’t like it, so much so that I wrote about it…Thus, when she walked in, I wasn’t judging or anything, but I wasn’t not judging either. I had my clear feelings about her, but I sat there, stared at those duck lips, and I said: Prove me wrong, I beg you. I knew there were layers to this feeling. There was the internalized misogyny over the whole Love Is Blind situation, there was a slight fringe of jealousy because she looks like a video-game character, and there was my fair judgement of her being a shallow person – which honestly, all fall under the misogynistic umbrella, sue me, at least I am self aware.   

She opened her mouth and when I tell you I never cringed so hard in my life, I mean it. It was shallow, it was ugly, and it was so very annoying. Things along the lines of: I know I am the hottest person on Earth and I always get what I want…In a show…about…finding love?!?!?!?! Finding the…perfect match?!?!?!?!?!?! Girl, bye. 

But I kid you not, every single boy in that house was dying for five seconds alone with that girl. And simply because she is hot, and not because they think they could, potentially, find that love. And that applies not only to Francesca, but every single one of those so-called matches, they are not looking for a connection, stability, love, they want something physical. It’s why Shayne, that good’ol scummy from LIB season 2, fought and dumped Ines, the most genuine person in that show, it’s why Nick and Savannah were clearly only lasting until someone for him showed up. The show has this interesting yet flawed dynamic, that the winners of the challenges (challenges about compatibility that, let me tell you, no one puts any effort into conquering), get to bring two new contestants, two boys or two girls, to separate the couples already formed. The dynamic is clearly flawed because you can tell, at least so far, that the girls are obviously more faithful to their matches than the boys. But let me tell you, it took them bringing two Too Hot To Handle past contestants to the house that two OG matches were left in the dust. 

The dynamic is interesting, and here’s where I tie this whole ramble of an analytical essay, because say you are in there, choosing who comes in, with your match right there – after being on a date together and claiming the win over compatibility –, you could choose one of the people one of the new contestants for yourself. The first time it happened was a bit shocking, but it came from a dude so I was like whatever, you suck. But when Francesca did that to Dom…Ladies, gentlemen, I YELLED. How loud, you wonder? Well, by then, Big was already back home from work, and he heard me from the bathroom, came rushing to me, and when I proceeded to tell him with a lot of profanities and between breaths, he turned to me, shook his head, looked at the screen where the post credits were rolling, waited for the “Coming Up” teaser finish, and said: “Horrible.” 

And he truly is right, it is horrible. Horribly entertaining, probably burning every last brain cell that I have left, but I am hooked. So yes, next week, we will dissect the new episodes, because if Samantha Irby can make an entire paid column about a Judge Judy type of show, I get to tell you all about the reality TV wonder only Netflix has the twisted mind to produce – and then throw Nick Lachey there for a bit more flavor. Until then beloved readers, stay safe and out of trouble but, if you don’t – oh my god, tell me all about it. 

– Your Girl On The Go