Page 44 of One to Watch

When plus-size blogger Bea Schumacher was announced as the star of this season of Main Squeeze, I was over the moon: Was it possible that, after all these years, my guilty little pleasure was going to be interesting, and even—forgive me for saying it—woke?

The answer is no.

Or it might be yes.

Or it might not even matter!

Because here’s the thing: Right now, the show is bad.

Last night’s episode was one of the most painful I’ve seen—even worse than the one where they forced the racist guy and the black guy into a hot-dog-eating contest. Because while that was disgusting, it was also absolutely entertaining.

Not so, last night’s horrific adventure on the high seas, where Bea was forced to wear a bikini (at least, I assume she was forced—she certainly looked unhappy about it), endure the snide taunts of men with the emotional maturity of Lindsey Graham, fend off one man who sought to fetishize her body, and finally capitulate for some light frenching with a Frenchie who couldn’t be more obviously vying for camera time. (To be clear, ABS, I will absolutely watch whatever hot-chef Luc spin-off you decide to make; you don’t need to force Bea to make out with him to get me on board!)

The only moment of last night’s episode where Bea seemed at all happy—well, not happy, exactly, but at least like an actual person—was when she was telling off Kumal, the trainer she kicked off the show for insulting her body to her face. It was nice to see Bea stand up for herself, but the show can’t keep going back to that well. It will get too boring too quickly, and we’re not watching this show for a seminar on body image; we’re in this for the romance! For the drama! For the fantasy of it all!

But there’s nothing fantastic about what we’re seeing now. This part of the season is always a little awkward: We don’t yet know the suitors well enough to be particularly attached to any of them, so we’re dependent on our connection to the Main Squeeze to stay invested in the season. I’ve spent the last two weeks ready to stan Bea harder than I’ve ever stanned before, but even beyond the show’s terrible one-liners, she just seems stilted and uncomfortable—and frankly, it’s hard to watch, let alone root for her. Understandable? Definitely. Enjoyable? Not in a million years.

It’s not clear whether the problem is Bea’s negative attitude (as Asher contended last night) or if the entire setup of this season is simply an exercise in schadenfreude at this poor woman’s expense. But there’s one thing I’m sure of: If next week’s episode is as grim as this week’s, it will be the last one I watch this year.

“Hey guys, can I have the room for a second? I need to chat with Bea.”

Lauren’s tone was casual, but her voice definitely had a haggard edge. The various wardrobe, hair, and makeup people scurried quickly out of the room where Bea was readying for her next segment: a rundown with Johnny about the dates she’d be going on this week.

“Is everything okay?” Bea asked carefully. She wasn’t even sure what to be afraid of—was she going to be fully nude this week?—but whatever was going on, it didn’t seem good.

Lauren sat down next to Bea and exhaled deeply.

“Our ratings took a hit last night.”

Bea felt a surge of relief—she nearly burst out laughing. “Is that all?”

“Bea, this is serious. If this is just a blip, it’s no problem—but if we see a steady decline, well.”

“If we see a steady decline, what?”

“Let’s just say it won’t be good for either of our careers.”

Bea’s expression hardened. “Okay. What do you want me to do about it?”

“The truth is, there’s been some backlash to your perceived attitude toward the show—and toward the men.”

“Backlash?”

Lauren sighed. “Bea, it’s hard for the audience to believe you could actually fall in love here. And since that’s the whole reason they’re watching …”

Usually, the leads come here looking for love. But you didn’t. Asher’s words still echoed in Bea’s mind, a constant, accusatory thrum threatening to dislodge what little confidence she was clinging to in the wake of the past week.

“What am I supposed to do?” Bea struggled to maintain composure. “The other women who come here are living in a fantasy, but you keep putting me in these nightmare scenarios.”

“I literally had you drinking champagne on a luxury yacht off the Malibu coast surrounded by handsome men,” Lauren snapped. “If that’s not a fantasy, I don’t know what is.”

“Men who objectified me at best and humiliated me at worst!” Bea shot back. “If you want the audience to buy what we’re selling, you have to stop assuming that I’m going to experience these dates the way you would. I don’t live in your body. Men don’t treat me like they treat you.”

“What about Luc, then?” Lauren narrowed her eyes. “He was wonderful to you, but watching the footage back, you seemed like your mind was somewhere else.”

Bea closed her eyes and nodded.

“You’re right. I don’t know, maybe I was still upset about the boat.”