When discussing Selling Sunset, a show about the ravages of capitalism and female friendships, I like to talk about how real and fake it is. The start of this episode really strained all credulity for me, though. Chrishell and Heather meet at an outdoor coffee spot and decide to bring up Jason’s height. I love a short joke, but I try not to indulge that often, but they bring it up, so this is Heather and Chrishell’s fault. Anyway, they say he’s five-foot-five, which is more generous than the portions at the Cheesecake Factory. Cueing up a romance we all know is coming, Chrishell is all, “Oh, but he pulls it off because of his swag.” It is a scientific fact that swag can add a maximum of only four inches to any man’s height and only 1.5 inches to his endowment. That leaves Jason still at five-foot-nine, which is Chrishell in a kitten heel. Where is he going to get the other three inches he needs? As for the endowment, the jury is still out, but I feel like Brett’s tattooed girlfriend is about two months away from releasing the dick pics on Reddit, so I’m sure we’ll know soon.
However, the real purpose of this conversation is for Heather to talk about her stress rash, which is really just a red blotch on her forehead. She says it is caused by the stress of Christine talking about how Heather dated this ex of hers whom Emma also dated. Heather says she’s telling everyone, and it wasn’t even a real relationship. And it was seven years ago. “I was 27 years old,” she says, as if that is young enough to excuse any indiscretion. Twenty-seven is old enough that you should have your first credit card, your first car loan, and your first federal indictment by then. Oh, scratch the last one. That’s only me. Heather says she finally decided that Christine is not invited to her wedding, which totally makes sense considering all the shit she talked about Tarek, an HGTV star on loan. Christine should be uninvited for the same reason Davina wasn’t invited to Mary’s wedding (she talked shit about the groom). I’ve talked shit about every groom I’ve ever come across, and I still get wedding invites. Take the hint, people.
But if Emma is freaking out about this guy, Christine is waging fake-Instagram-account wars because of this guy, and Heather is ruing the day she met this guy — who is this guy? Why haven’t we even heard a name? “Hello? ‘Page Six’? Yes, this is Brian Moylan. Brian M-O-Y-L … It doesn’t matter. Look, I have a case for you guys. Will you find the missing Selling Sunset former fiancé? We have questions, and we need to know if he’s taller than Jason, which he definitely is. Okay, thank you for your service, and we will respect your privacy during this difficult time.”
There is a brief interlude in which Jason takes Vanessa to a $50 million five-bedroom house in Malibu and is like, “Um, lady, why are you messing around with $1 million sales? This is what you should be working on. This is a $1 million commission.” He introduces her to Sean the Realtor. The whole thing is amazing: extra-tall, very attractive, swarthy, big smile, wearing a cute outfit. Oh, you thought I meant the house? No. I’m still on Sean the Realtor. Yeah, I guess the house is nice for a sort of opulent mansion overlooking the water with an infinity pool, balconies, and a view of both the sunrise and the sunset. There’s an in-home spa with a hot tub, and a twink has definitely died in there. Then we see a massage room next door, and I take it back: Multiple twinks have definitely died here. I mean, if you like these kinds of amenities, great. But Sean — he looks like the kind of guy who will let you eat Sour Patch Kids in bed while watching Housewives reruns after you get a little bit too stoned. Houses come and go, but a man like that, you snatch him up and never let him go.
Christine, Maya, and Davina go out to lunch at Moon Juice, the most intolerable “eatery” in America, and the waiter shows off their very lovely manicure while displaying a whole vat of “Collagen Protect, which is good for hydration inside and out.” How much did Moon Juice pay for this? Is Jason sleeping with the owner? When did this show do product placement for anything other than obscene real estate?
Speaking of obscene, Christine says she has no time for these fake DM games with Emma, which we all know is false, because if she had time for filming a reality show two weeks after giving birth, she has time for fake social-media accounts. She says all of the girls in the office are “obsessed with an old version of me, and that says more about them than it does about me.” Everything about this is wrong. If they are obsessed with an old version of you, when did you become the old version, because no discernible change has been detected? Is the new you just an Instagram filter only you can see? Also, if they believe these things about Christine, she admits there is an old version of her that would have done it. So if the women were to believe that she would do these things, it actually says more about Christine and the person she was than it does about the women. But for Christine to admit this or change, she would have to take accountability for her actions, and she avoids accountability like Justin Bieber avoids leaving the house with clean hair.
The gist of the whole conversation is that Maya doesn’t believe this mystery dude, whom we still haven’t met or heard his name, proposed to Christine and thinks she’s totally making it up. I believe all of this to be true as well, but only because the show told me to. Maya is like, “I know the jeweler who made Emma’s ring, so I know he proposed to her,” and all of this sounds sketch and coincidental, but I am not above being on a jury that gives a woman the electric chair based on circumstantial evidence if the woman in that chair is Christine.
Next, Chrishell shows Simu Liu (a.k.a. Shang-Chi) a house with a waterfall and a huge wall of bookshelves. Bookshelves? Oh, honey. This is L.A. Who even has books? Anyway, the house is nice. I have only one question: Are they fucking? Y/N?
Amanza goes to Mary’s house, and Romaine is there to open Champagne for them shirtless, and after I pop my cork, we listen to Amanza talk about what happened when she went to her lawyer’s office. She says her children’s father gave a letter to the court two years ago giving up custody and any right to his children, so all this hunting for him has been in vain. She talks about her struggles raising the kids, sleeping on the couch for two years so they could have their own bedrooms, having to tell them that their father isn’t coming back home, and it is all sad and awful and I just want to give Amanza a big hug and tell her it will all be better. Amanza gets a pass for the rest of the season because, unlike these other heifers, she is dealing with some real, actual shit. Godspeed, Amanza.
Finally, Jason takes Mary, Davina, and Vanessa to a $7.85 million house that used to belong to Slash from Guns N’ Roses and now belongs to a Dodgers pitcher. He says it needs an update, and what he means is the kitchen is old. It’s like white-refrigerator old. It’s a box of Boo-Berry from 1987 rotting in the cupboard old. Why was Slash living in a time capsule for all of those years? Was his hat just a little too low?
Outside, the ladies get to talking, and Emma and Mary lay out all the evidence for how and why Christine is lying about this engagement to this dude whom we still haven’t heard from. Oh, hold on one minute — my phone is ringing. “Yes, this is Brian Moylan. Oh, hi, ‘Page Six.’ I’ve been waiting for you to call back. What do you mean this man does not exist? What do you mean it’s all a ruse? Can that possibly be true? Well, I’m just going to keep assuming he’s real. But you’re right: We will need some verification at some point.” Sorry about that. Anyway, Christine is now losing allies, as Davina and Vanessa are like, “Why is this crazy lady making these things up, and why does she even care now that she’s married and has a kid?” And everyone, both at home and sitting on the loungers across from them next to a pool where Slash defiled countless groupies, just nods their head in befuddlement.