I will start by saying that I love Love Island. It’s the perfect thing to wind down the day with, and it’s put together well enough that I somehow care deeply about every single contestant, and the fates of their turbulent love lives, while watching it – but then it ends, I go to bed and I don’t need to give it another thought. Minimal headspace and maximum enjoyment: like I said, perfect.
But last weekend, a friend asked me if anyone could ever pay me enough to go on Love Island, and my response was immediate, categorical and unconditional. No, no, and no again. Not because of the risks of sudden and meteoric fame and celebrity (although I certainly have no desire to enter into that sort of world – which is lucky, because it’s somewhat unlikely ever to happen); not because of the objectifying, offensive aspects of the show (although these are significant and outrageous – lack of diversity being one of the show’s most principal flaws, swiftly followed by numerous others); and not because of the insecurities I have about my physical appearance (although this is certainly enough of a factor to dissuade me from wanting to parade around in front of a camera for 10 weeks).
No – as someone who already struggles with anxiety and intermittent sleep problems, I honestly cannot imagine anything worse than being a contestant on that show.
For one thing, I find it hard enough to sleep sometimes in my own bed, when it’s pitch dark and totally quiet; I cannot imagine (and frankly don’t want to) how little I’d sleep whilst sharing a room with 14 other people, several of whom are getting up to all kinds of misdemeanours just feet away from me. And imagine the snoring!
Apparently they never know what time it is in there; that’s just one of many more things that would stress me out astronomically (I’m getting stressed just thinking about it…). I’d be fretting about sunburn, about drinking every night…the list is endless. Already, the idea of staying in a luxury villa, for free, with guaranteed fame and money whenever I leave, is causing me more stress than my A-levels did.
Then there’s the endless cycle of people-pleasing. I am a chronic people-pleaser. I will inevitably tell people whatever they want to hear, even if I know full well that I cannot do what they want. “I’m sure that’ll be just fine”, I’ll beam, while inwardly knowing there’s no way to achieve that impossible task. “Yes, sounds perfect!”, I’ll tap away enthusiastically on WhatsApp to my friend who’s just asked if I’m free next weekend, while simultaneously working out if I have in fact said yes to three other engagements that day. It’s something I’m working on; but on Love Island, as we have seen this season, it’s not really possible to please everyone – and that would put a hell of a strain on my mental well-being.
Take Lucy, for example. She thought she was getting along perfectly well with everyone – until the girls laid into her for not spending enough time with them, for not being enough of a “girl’s girl” (and honestly, what room is there for that kind of phrase in a world which is beginning – at last – to embrace gender fluidity? Marie-Claire Chappet wrote a brilliant piece on this for Glamour – well worth a read) and for not making enough of an effort. This was a situation that, understandably, saw Lucy in floods of tears more than once, and was one that I completely empathised with. “Just leave her alone”, I growled at Amy, as I watched her criticising Lucy for friendship choices that didn’t affect anyone negatively in any way – at least not until all the bitching started. Poor Lucy, through no fault of her own, now has to bend over backwards in order to maintain her friendships with the guys, prove that she does want to be friends with the girls, and try to find a romantic partner – which all sounds like something that would send me into a pretty major anxiety attack.
I think the worst thing of all, though, is the way the show is manipulated by producers to highlight the character flaws of even the nicest, kindest, warmest, most generous people (with the exception of Dani Dyer, who managed to get away unscathed last season). “We’re all good people”, said Curtis to the group, during a rousing speech one night when everyone was feeling particularly despondent. That’s right, Curtis. You are all good people. Everyone has at some point demonstrated an act of true kindness, thoughtfulness or integrity– whether it was Tommy behaving with dignity and respect when Lucy said she could envisage their friendship turning into something more, or Amber insisting that Lucy wake her up if she felt sad during the night. And what woman out there wasn’t inspired by Maura’s response to Tom’s comment (“It’ll be interesting to see if she’s all mouth”), and her outright refusal to entertain his attempts to gaslight her (see Caitlin Moran’s perfectly pitched piece on this)? “Why can’t a woman talk openly about enjoying sex in 2019?!”, she lamented. Why, Maura. Why indeed.
But the producers don’t want contestants to be kind, or thoughtful, or even “loyal”. They want them to provide drama, and unfortunately that comes from presenting the worst of humanity’s flaws for viewer’s entertainment. Tommy was kind to Lucy when they had their chat – but then he did exactly what she asked him not to do, and told everyone about it. Amber might be a steadfast friend, but the way she treats Michael is often rude, passive-aggressive and sometimes nasty. And Maura didn’t exactly get off to the best start – when she straddled her 28-year-old self on top of Tommy’s 20-year-old self and tried to kiss him even when he kept turning his face away, Ofcom received 486 complaints asking for her to be removed from the show.
And you know what? These people are only human. As Tom Peck says, “they are real, surprisingly fragile people”. They mess up, like each and every one of us messes up every day. They say things they don’t mean, and they do things they know they’ll regret. But their mistakes and human errors are broadcast to the nation, in the worst possible light and context, to create drama. And that’s what really does it for me. Because as someone who often feels mentally frail and afraid of the world around me, I would so much rather celebrate the good in people, rather than be a part of something that makes a point of showcasing the bad.
So no, you couldn’t pay me enough to audition for the show (and good thing too, because it’s not as though the producers are knocking on my door…!). Like the hypocrite I am, though, I will continue to watch it and enjoy it – because, like the contestants, I’m only human. Tommy and Molly to win, anyone?!