**TW: This post contains spicy opinions tailored for a niche audience of Bravoholics. We will return to our regularly scheduled themes next week.**
At this very moment in time, we are in a Scandavull. That is, a lull between when news of Tom Sandoval’s illicit affair broke out and when we will watch it unfold on television. We now have a moment to breathe, let the news sink in, and ponder what deeper meaning we will glean from all this. By all this, I am referring to not only what it means for the parties involved but also what it means for us, their viewers, their beyond-the-fourth-wall colleagues who manage to live in permanent purgatory as fans, foes, and followers. We are everything in between.
In a world of reality television, Bravo is a country all its own—an autonomous island where reality stardom has been perfected and given a permanent place in our culture. I am fluent in its native tongue, my education stemming back to the early competition shows like Project Runway and Top Chef, the original Housewives franchises, the real estate shows, the spin off shows, even the short-lived series like Gallery Girls. Stars of these hit series exist somewhere between regular person and Hollywood celebrity. They’ve bred businesses, marriages, divorces, and arrests. Through the good and the bad, they’ve welcomed us to all to watch.
Scandals are not new territory for us. In fact, we are experiencing the typical life cycle of any explosive reality television gossip. First comes the bombshell news, which used to arrive via Perez Hilton, then TMZ, now Deuxmoi (sometimes still TMZ). Next, the internet floods us with talking heads trying to push their two cents to the top of the algo. Then, official statements. And clarifications. And comments on the statements and clarifications. There might also be merch—when is there not merch? We then digest rumors on how the scandal will be portrayed when it eventually receives airtime. We hypothesize on whether the curated edit will match the early accounts, the podcasts, the screenshots, the jigsaw puzzle of piecemeal commentary offered by castmates and the castmate-adjacent. We watch the network’s cryptic interviews of cast members who are instructed to withhold crucial details but unravel because they are not trained by elite crisis PR managers. These days, we have a unique opportunity to fully engross ourselves in real-time drama and then watch the movie about it months later. It’s immersive entertainment like no other.
My mom—an avid soap opera fan who named me after a character on General Hospital—could never have dreamed this up.
Despite my breadth of knowledge, I used to be able to detach from the drama. I could keep bad news at arm’s length, because even though the stars are indeed real people, they were never my contemporaries. I don’t work below deck on a yacht or flip luxury homes or star in a one-woman cabaret show. As a lawyer living a diametrically opposite lifestyle to even the next-gen Bravolebrities, I never watched them to relate to them. Rather, my consumption was voyeuristic. I loved to escape through that window into more aggravated lifestyles than I’d ever choose for myself.
But through the years, something changed. Social media now gives us unfettered access to these public figures after the cameras stop rolling. We gain insight into their mundane moments, and ironically, a little more of who they are as real people; something a bit deeper than the caricatures they play of themselves. I am most interested in the Bravolebrities in their Thirties and early Forties, who may have seemed like strangers when I was studying for the bar in 2010 and they were taking shots under the bar at work, but now I see glimmers of commonality between us. They buy homes. They have stable relationships. They have babies. They seek growth. I find it hard to root against anyone seeking the things that make me love my life—even those who entertained me for years by doing the opposite.
I am starting to realize that I hate rewarding people who can’t evolve.
So yeah. This scandal hit different. Cheating on your domestic partner of nine years with a close mutual friend, dropping Easter eggs across the public domain, and expressing no remorse beyond the way she found out, is not only a repeat storyline for Tom Sandoval. It’s his real life in its ugliest form.
As a viewer, I want to see people do better.
Both Toms, in fact, illustrate my point to a tee. Their female partners begged them to grow up in many times and always got the short end of the edit. Lisa Vanderpump infantilized them for years. Early on, sure, I took some pleasure in watching this childish man duo float through life without regard for anyone but themselves, but similar to watching Shep and Austen mature slower than southern gumbo, the schtick grew old. I don’t know a single person that would have squandered the business relationships dropped into their laps. Because of this, they’ve become more and more difficult to watch. In the words of The Late Logan Roy, they were just not serious people.
What am I interested in watching then? More Katie and Ariana dating to find better partners and opening their sandwich shop. More Scheana and Lala (and perhaps even Brittany), raising their children and navigating their actual lives. The show has not been about SUR or people who actually work there in a long time. There’s no point in trying to make us believe that construct is relevant to any of the stars anymore.
Same goes for our friends in the summer and winter houses. I do not know a single (or taken!) 40-year-old adult who continues to share vacation homes with strangers. The thought of being coerced into an Airbnb for a bachelorette weekend with acquaintances gives me hives. Kyle and Amanda have every reason to want to be there for the sake of Loverboy’s platform, but I’d rather see them scale their business for an hour each week than watch Kyle black out in a banana hammock.
And you bet I’m rooting for Carl and Lindsay, the newly minted Adults In The Room, for recognizing what they want in each other. I’d rather watch their relationship bloom in the city than hear what the weekend peanut gallery thinks about the speed at which they’re moving. It’s not weird for a couple in their late Thirties to be on the fast track—it’s weird to treat them as adversaries for growing up.
This brief Scandavull provided me with a chance for deep introspection to learn where I situate myself as a viewer now. I have been on this ride a long time, but I am more married to the people than the scenarios we’ve boxed them into. Let them evolve. That’s what real people do. And if we’re aiming for reality, then Bravo, give the people what they want.
Bravo fans: are you with me? Comment below, share in Notes, or LMK: averagejoelle3@gmail.com.
The little things
For the girls’ spring break, we spent a week in Boca Raton, Florida, where my husband is from and where I spent many years growing up with him and visiting family before we knew each other. We often talk about how our paths may have crossed there as children; there’s an inherent sweetness in thinking that might have been the case. We took the girls to his childhood playground, ate at some favorite restaurants, visited friends and loved ones, and swam in four different pools. It’s nice to feel like you’re doing the first of a lifetime of doing something. Until next time, Boca.
Also
I read:
The Wedding Vow of Someone Marrying Their “Best Friend” – McSweeney’s
Is Therapy-Speak Making Us Selfish? – Bustle
I posted:
My first LinkedIn hustle trap. Well, it wasn’t really a hustle trap, but it felt kind of icky the way I imagined it would. With the way things are going on Twitter, though, it’s time to start paying more attention to other ways we connect with people. In this spirit, I recommend my readers download the Substack app. Not only will you discover new writing but you’ll have the benefit of Notes, a new space on Substack to share links, short posts, quotes, photos, and more.
I bought:
The best Lululemon Align leggings dupes on Amazon. I almost don’t believe how good they are.