Ugh, is that Austen Kroll and his too-large tongue littering up my television screen? I know that I should be nicer in general, that I should give to charity, that I should call my mother more often, that I should be kind and rewind — but what sin have I committed that I have to stare at Austen, Craig, and Luke during the same hour on my television? If they were to make like Kathy Hilton and start a conga line, we’d have to call it the Fuckboy Express and it wouldn’t end until all of them stopped a woman mid-conversation by saying, “Actually …”
It’s especially fitting that Austen shows up while the girls are sitting around in the house talking about how all of the men — who went for an afternoon of skiing that was so cold even Loverboy got frozen — could stand to be better behaved. And as if on cue, here is Austen, wading through the swamp of Amazon boxes that haunt the front stoop, to darken our doorstep once more.
It’s not that there is something I don’t like about Austen, it’s that there is everything I don’t like about him. It’s his tie-dyed hoodies and trucker caps. It’s the way he always orders some kind of craft-brewed IPA. It’s how he won’t actually break up with a woman even though he has no interest in pursuing her. It’s how I would probably still sleep with him if he rubbed against me, even if he did it the wrong way. God, I hate myself.
When the boys get back from skiing and everyone sits down for the dinner the girls made (which is just a white plastic bowl full of pasta), Amanda asks Austen, the newest member of their vacation club, what is going on with him. The first thing he starts with is that there is a girl in Charleston he’s interested in. Oh Jesus. He knows he’s going to be in a house with his ex, Ciara — who he used, balled up, and discarded like she is one of Candiace Dillard’s cry-angles — and he’s already on the defensive talking about the great girl he’s dating in Charleston.
Then there’s the big reveal. Oh, it’s actually just Olivia. Yes, the same limp-haired blonde that he was orbiting by producers’ decree during the most recent season of Southern Charm. This is the relationship he’s talking about? They don’t even seem to like each other. They haven’t even spent that much time together and they filmed a whole season of a show. I don’t think they’ve even slept with each other or if they did they kept it quieter than Naomie kissing Whitney on the forehead and sneaking out of Ms. Pat’s house at 6 in the morning.
That night they decide to play a round of speed dating where each of the guys has to spend some face time with each of the girls. Jason and Rachel are a little bit awkward, each attracted to each other but a bit unsure of their surroundings to take the big leap. The real winners of this exercise are Kory and Jessica, who we learn some really crazy things about. Kory, apparently, was a matchmaker at some point and I pray to the great Bravo gods above that Patti Stanger had nothing to do with this. We also learn that the weirdest thing he did in bed was to sleep with a woman while her husband watched. If this is a service that Kory provides, I will happily sit in the corner while watching him have sex with my nonexistent wife.
Then we hear that Jessica once hooked up not just with brothers, but with twin brothers. I think I have seen a movie like this, but it did not pass the Bechdel Test because I don’t think there was a single woman either in front of the camera or behind it. Jessica then tells Kyle, “Don’t spread that around.” Sister, you said that with a microphone on while on-camera. Do you still not know how a reality show works? Do they have these in the metaverse where you sell all of that real estate?
Luke has been gone a whole day and, for those of us who were worried about him driving drunk back to the city after last week’s shenanigans, he was just in the loving embrace of a hotel where the producers dropped him off while he slept it off. The next morning he, too, has to wade through Amazon Box Swamp to reload all of his hockey bags into the house. Waiting for him there is Jessica, who he knows he has to have a talk with.
They sit down and she says she wants to explain how she feels. He asks her, “When you’re done, can I say something too?” No, she tells him. She says, “When you make a certain person feel a certain way, just let them explain that,” as the editors switch to the plonk, plonk, plonk music that’s supposed to make us think she’s an idiot. And for a minute, I thought, Yeah, let Luke speak. This should be a conversation.
But then I thought deeper than the music. I thought differently. We’ve been letting men talk for millennia and look where we’ve ended up. We have a planet that is burnt to a cinder; a Congress that can’t even subpoena people; three U.K. prime ministers in a year; Ye (né Kanye West) going “death con 3” on Jews; and the NFL, which is literally killing its players and lets rapists and abusers play without any protest and still gets more respect than our favorite Bravo shows. If this is where letting men talk has gotten us, then, yes, Jessica, please tell these men to shut the fuck up and listen for a change. [Holds for righteous applause.]
Luke says he’s sorry that he made her feel uncomfortable, that he’s understanding her perspective, and wants to move on and try to become friends. What more could you ask for in a dude. Luke then goes outside to shovel off the hockey rink so that they can build a fire, which is the most Luke thing that has ever happened.
Jessica leaves with the rest of the crew to go do a HIIT workout (that stands for high-intensity interval training and it is stupid and will make you die) at a brewery and then they are going to drink. Wait, these people are going to drink in the middle of the day in their sweaty workout clothes? They’re going to do burpees in a distillery? Yes, it’s as dumb as it sounds, even though the workout was apparently only 20 minutes, which is like a walk to the car and back if you park far enough away. So it’s not that dumb, but still about as dumb as Paige thinking that everyone should be quiet while she’s on a work Zoom that she’s taken in the middle of the communal living room.
Back at the house, everyone goes outside and watches Luke skate and compliments him on his fire, and that is all he has ever really wanted in life. Craig puts on the hockey jersey he bought in Minnesota with Luke that summer so they can remember the good times they had on that trip. Um, all we’ve heard about is how awful the trip was; why does Craig want to relive it? Anyway, Craig has been defending his behavior to Luke all day by saying that someone needed to tell him he was making Jessica uncomfortable. That is true, but no one needed to do that while threatening to defenestrate him. (There is no way Craig knows what defenestrate means, and you gals and gays better not tell him.)
Luke tells Craig that his delivery sucks and it really reminded him of when he was bullied as a kid. I mean, these two just hate each other, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought. And so the night ends where it begins, with Austen presiding over a “Sinner’s Party” where everyone is supposed to atone for their sins. This theme sort of makes no sense, because half of the people are dressed as clergy and the rest are dressed like they’ve been waiting out all night to get on the new Teen Wolf ride at Universal Studios. Maybe the Amazon boxes for two different parties got confused? I don’t know. Anyway, Austen goes around the table and apologizes to practically everyone, and if this doesn’t pick up next episode with everyone telling Austen what a shaved pubic hair he is, then I want no part of the rest of this dinner.
