Hey Rockstars,

I was chatting with someone on Tumblr recently about Love Island, which is a show I have become increasingly invested in over the past two summers. I don’t remember exactly how this particular conversation started, but I announced that I could totally go on Love Island. This is perhaps an ambitious declaration for someone who has never been on reality television, but I stand by it.

My Tumblr friend, who very kindly and loyally reads Coffee & Check-Ins, made an interesting observation: “I find your blog very interesting. Kinda the same mentality of reality TV. Looking into someone’s everyday life and thoughts.”

I thought that was a lovely way to describe blogging. And then, naturally, I started thinking about how I would actually behave on Love Island.

The first thing you should know about me is that I’m actually pretty shy when I first meet people. I love talking to people, and once I’m comfortable, I have an extraordinary amount to say, but it usually takes me a little while to get there. I think I’d arrive at the villa, find one person I clicked with, and spend the first few days getting comfortable with them and slowly branch out. If someone approaches me, I’m warm and ready to talk; I’m just really nervous to make the first move!

But it’s also quite possible I’d still be incredibly awkward. Two incidents come to mind. The first involves a barista at my favorite coffee shop who, to this day, I’m convinced is a witch. Whenever she talked to me, I would become a complete klutz and stumble over my words. The second is much more recent. I have a friend at work, Mike, and I’d heard about his girlfriend for quite some time before finally meeting her at a Commanders game my firm was sponsoring. I was sitting at a high-top table, eating something (probably fries), when she came over to say hello. My immediate thought was, “…why is this model talking to a pleb like me???” Which, come to think of it, is probably exactly how I’d react on Love Island, because have you SEEN those women?

But brushing past my awkwardness, yes I’d of course be friendly. And if one of the guys came over to talk to me, I’d happily have a conversation with him, but I don’t think I’d immediately march across the villa and start flirting with strangers. I’d probably be making my own coffee and breakfast for the first few mornings, partly because I like my routines and partly because I’d still be getting used to having an entire group of people around me.

Give me a few days, though, and things would change. Once I felt comfortable, I’d start making friends with everyone, getting involved in conversations, and letting people make me breakfast. I suspect I’d end up knowing an extraordinary amount about everyone’s relationships, partly because I enjoy getting to know people and partly because people tend to tell me things.

And I would have so much to say about all of it.

Which brings me to something else you should know about me: I am physically incapable of telling one story at a time. I will start telling you about something that happened at work, remember that it reminds me of a conversation I had three years ago, explain the background to that conversation, introduce four additional characters, and then somehow find myself talking about an entirely unrelated event before remembering what the original story was supposed to be about.

I don’t even necessarily realize I’m doing it. In my head, all of these details are relevant. They provide context! You need the context to understand why what happened was funny, or ridiculous, or interesting, and I cannot possibly deprive you of that information.

Which is why, after giving this hypothetical reality television career some serious consideration, I’ve reached one conclusion: I would absolutely dominate the confessionals.

For those unfamiliar with the format, Love Island has a little room called the Beach Hut where contestants sit down and talk to the cameras about what’s happening in the villa. They discuss their relationships, comment on other people’s decisions, and offer their interpretations of the latest drama.

I think my first few Beach Hut interviews would be rather underwhelming. The producers would ask me what I thought about someone’s relationship, and I’d explain that I hadn’t known these people very long, that there were probably things I didn’t know, and that I didn’t feel comfortable forming an opinion just yet. They’d ask who I fancied, and I’d probably blush, laugh, and attempt to give an answer that didn’t require me to announce my romantic preferences to an entire viewing audience.

I can already imagine them asking me whether I think some guy in the villa has behaved terribly, and me responding with my favorite phrase: “Look, all I know is…”

And this is where I imagine the producer becoming increasingly frustrated with me, because I’d probably launch into an explanation of how different people can interpret the same situation differently, how someone’s feelings might change as new information becomes available, and how I’d need to know what actually happened before drawing any definitive conclusions.

But once I got comfortable, I would have considerably more to say. And if somebody wronged me? Ohhh ho ho. I’d definitely march into the Beach Hut myself, announce, “Okay, so let me tell you what happened today,” and begin.

Because while I like to think of myself as diplomatic, understanding, and generally inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt, I also have a very strong sense of when I’ve been wronged.

I would be furious. I would have receipts. I would have an extraordinary amount to say. But after approximately twenty minutes of explaining why I had been personally wronged, I’d inevitably start considering the other person’s perspective. Which is probably not what the producers were hoping for.

I contain multitudes. Some of them are diplomatic. Some of them are very annoyed.

Now, whether that approach would make me excellent reality television or a producer’s worst nightmare, I cannot say. But I suspect they’d get plenty of material either way. They love a yapper, and I’m here to provide.

And that brings me back to what my Tumblr friend said about my blog. I hadn’t really thought about blogging as a kind of reality television before, but I understand what he means. Most of what I write about isn’t particularly extraordinary. It’s just whatever has caught my attention, made me laugh, frustrated me, or sent me down a rabbit hole that week.

And I do seem to have an extraordinary amount to say about all of it.

So perhaps I don’t need to go on Love Island to find out whether I’d enjoy the confessionals. I’ve already got one right here. The world is my confessional, and you all, my sweet readers, are my audience.

And if you, like my Tumblr friend, have ideas about what I should write next, please let me know! His next suggestion was a post about my favorite conspiracy theories, followed by the revelation that birds aren’t real. So, you know … grain of salt.

Until next time!

xo

Sandhya

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