I'm watching Love Is Blind right now, and honestly, I worry about us humans. Seriously worry. It's like we don't even know what love is anymore. We treat love like it's a competition — a game to be won, a prize to be chosen.
It's crazy, because I'd like to think I'd do it differently if I ever lost my mind enough to go on that show. But honestly? I don't know. I'm human too, and when I look at us, I genuinely wonder how we're trusted with anything, let alone raising kids. No wonder we're so messed up… walking traumas raising more walking traumas.
The denial we live in just to be "in love" or "married" is wild. Love Is Blind is in its ninth season now, and people are still signing up saying they want to "find love." Sure, some do. I'm happy for the ones who actually find something real, both the couples we see and the ones who stay out of the spotlight. That keeps me watching, gives me a bit of hope.
But I'm also tired. Tired of watching people show up chasing fame or followers, pretending it's love. Tired of seeing real hearts get bruised by people who just want attention.
What our words tell on us
Often our words tell on us, they reveal what we actually want. I hear people say, "I want to be married. I want to have children. I want to be chosen." And all those things are fine… if you truly understand what they mean.
Married is married, whether you're happy or not. You're still married. Children are children, whether they're healthy, difficult, or even if you don't particularly like them sometimes. They're yours, fully, until at least they're eighteen — if you're that kind of person. If not, then honestly, it's till death do you part. And if they find a "medium," you might not even rest then.
And being chosen — by whom? Maybe the same person you'll later want to take a restraining order out against. But luv, they chose you, and they're still choosing you, right?
We have to be careful that we're not just repeating what we've been told is good for us, or copying what we've seen looks good on others. Because what fits someone else's life might look like pure chaos on you.
The man at war with himself
This season there's a gay man clearly at war with himself, inflicting pain on women because he's terrified his church and father won't accept him. Maybe he'll never come out, but trust me, this man is gayer than Ben Gay. (That just sounds funny to me.) You can see it in how he talks about sex, like a teenage boy who just discovered it. Even his own mother asked if he was gay, and he said no, felt he had to prove it by parading girls in front of her and kissing them.
Has anyone told him there are plenty of men out there, married with kids, who are actually gay? Men who love their wives in their own way, who mean it when they say, "You're the only woman for me." But here's the thing — those wives don't know. They think they're lucky because their husbands never look at other women, not realising it's not women their husbands are drawn to. Their idea of safety is built on the wrong kind of fear. They're guarding the door no one's even trying to walk through.
I know this because my gay friends tell me, the married ones are the best. I assume they mean in bed. They've learned how to perform, how to play the part so well that even their wives believe it. But it's not real. It's survival. A whole life built around trying to be who the world says you should be, while quietly starving for who you really are.
There's nothing wrong with any of this — if both people know and agree. Good on them. It's the lying and gaslighting that does the damage. It's 2025… we should be able to have a show where producers do their due diligence, find people who actually want relationships. That would still sell. In fact, it might even save the franchise. Just film the whole batch at once and release them back-to-back, before the "authenticity" turns into parody.
Why I keep watching
But for real, I watch the show to study us — to see how we lie to ourselves just to get what we think we want. How, when someone "saves" us from being picked, we call it heartbreak instead of a blessing. How we mistake shared trauma for chemistry, and tell ourselves it's destiny. How trusting our instincts looks so much like ignoring them, and yet we call it intuition anyway.
For me, love isn't just blind. It's hard of hearing, and half numb to feeling.
Love B. Xxxx
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