‘Love is Blind’ Season 10 Episodes 7-9 review: “Everybody hates Chris”

When reviewing Episodes 1–6 of Love is Blind Season 10, it was evident that the season had overcorrected so hard from Season 9’s zero-wedding debacle that it landed in a different failure mode. That failure mode is beige. Pleasant beige. Watchable beige. Hollow beige. It seemed that the season’s remaining suspense lay in whether Vic and Christine could sustain their argument that this experiment actually works. I was wrong. The suspense, it turns out, was how long it would take for Chris “Fiasco” Fusco to reveal himself as one of the most pathetic human beings to step foot on this show. A show, by the way, that has seen the likes of Jeremy, Bartise, and Shake?

The answer: not long.

So let’s say this clearly for the people in the back who somehow still believe reality television is unscripted. Chris Fusco is a villain. Not in the sense that he has been edited into villainy by a production team with an axe to grind. Nor in the sense that his behavior has been taken out of context or misrepresented. Chris Fusco is a villain in the old-fashioned sense. Which is to say: he did villain things on camera, and then, when confronted about them, did not so much apologize as explain why the things he did were, actually, fine.

Here is what Chris did in Episodes 7–9, in chronological order, for anyone keeping score at home. He went out for drinks with friends after returning to Ohio with his fiancée, Jessica Barrett, and did not come home for 48 hours. He didn’t call, he barely texted – he vanished. When he finally returned, Jessica—an infectious disease physician who spent the height of the COVID-19 pandemic treating patients and then coming home to a husband who could not meet her where she was, which is why she is divorced—asked him what happened. His response was to ask her if she thought they had a strong physical connection.

Chris leans fully into villain mode.

Dude. What.

She said she thought they did. He said he did not. He told her that he typically dates women who “do CrossFit and Pilates every day.” Then he told her that she does not work out daily. He told her that he is used to dating women with different bodies. He told her this after vanishing for 48 hours. And he told her this as though it were an explanation rather than an accusation.

And let’s not get it twisted. Chris knew Jessica had a demanding job as an actual doctor. He knew she didn’t have the free time to work out every single day. So it’s clear what his red-pill a** was really up to in this moment. Like any true narcissist, he wanted to make her feel small. He wanted her to feel insignificant.

This is exactly why he wanted to continue the relationship despite the surprise 11th-hour hang-up. Which conveniently arrived about 60 seconds after he entered her life and realized she had one. That she didn’t need him. And, well, Chris couldn’t have that, now could he?

Jessica, who has more dignity in her left pinky than Chris has in his entire sweater-vest torso, ends the engagement without any fanfare. Jessica said, ” No, this is not what I signed up for, and left. Thank God.

Chris goes to a strip club that same night. He posts a photo on Instagram—an account he created specifically for this purpose—with a stripper sitting on his lap. Then, and this is where it gets truly unhinged, he shows up at a group bowling night as a single man and makes his availability (and drunkenness) everyone else’s problem. The women in the cast reveal that he had slid into Bri McNees’ DMs, bought social media followers, and had the dating “habits” of Leonardo DiCaprio.

Bri, you will recall, is engaged to Connor Spies. Chris and Connor were friends in the pods. Chris told Bri, via text, to call him. Then, at the bowling alley, in front of Connor, Chris pulled Bri aside and told her he regretted not choosing her. He called Connor “submissive.” He told Bri she needed someone more “dominant.” Chris suggests, with the confidence of a man who has never been told no in a way that stuck, that he could be that person.

Bri, visibly shocked, doesn’t immediately tell him to go to hell, which is unbelievable. Especially considering how she entertained his vile comments and claimed he just wanted someone with “discipline,” even though (and I can’t believe we have to repeat this) Jessica is an actual doctor. And yes, Connor has to watch all this from the bar, while unbeknownst to him, Bri shared details of their sex life with a guy she knows is trying to sleep with her. In what universe is that OK?

The episode ends there, with that image. Of Chris leaning in, Bri complicit, Connor watching. Connor, who, by the way, thought he and Chris were friends. Had given Chris actual advice about patching things up with Jessica (without knowing the full context). His advice was meaningful and kind, only for Chris to say over a hot mic that he’s willing to betray Connor’s trust and make a move on Bri. “What’s he going to do, beat me up?”

Is this a joke? If not for Ashley fumbling her defense of Jessica by saying “She’s not like morbidly obese” instead of “Hey, so you’re a dumb*** and Jessica just dodged a Chernobyl bullet,” you’d be the most delusional person in the room that night.

The front page of the internet would like a word.

Reddit’s response to Chris Fusco is worth documenting because it reveals something about how audiences engage with reality television in 2026. The subreddit r/LoveisBlindonNetflix—which I maintain functions, at this point, as the show’s de facto focus group meets shadow parliament—generates dozens of threads within hours of the episodes dropping. So far, they’re behaving as judge, jury, and (social) executioner.

Instagram was, if anything, more organized in its contempt. The comments section on the official Love is Blind account’s posts about Chris became a kind of digital town square where users gathered to express their collective horror. A common observation is that the audacity of this man should be studied in laboratories that should simultaneously be illegal.

What’s interesting about this discourse is not that it happened, necessarily. Villains always generate discourse. But really, it’s how it happened. The language here is forensic. Users are not simply saying Chris is bad. No, they are itemizing his badness, breaking it into parts, analyzing the timeline, cross-referencing his behavior across episodes. This is not the language of schadenfreude. This is more like the language of prosecution.

Amber Morrison, bless her, told Chris to his face at the bowling alley, “Do you think you’ll get another hot doctor?” The answer, per the internet and per common sense, is no. Not if there really is a god, at least.

And here is what all that tells us. Audiences these days are sophisticated enough to understand reality television as a text that can be read, analyzed, and critiqued on its own terms. They know the edit matters. They know production has a point of view. And they know contestants are people, not characters. That said, they have collectively decided that Chris Fusco is not a victim of a bad edit. He is simply bad. Plain and simple.

Alex Henderson and the “Period Tracker Incident.”

If Chris is Season 10’s headline villain, Alex Henderson is its background radiation. He’s the constant low-level toxicity that you forget is there until you check the readings and realize, oh, this is actually quite dangerous.

In Episodes 1–6, Alex told Brittany Wicker that she was his “usual type” while his fiancée, Ashley Carpenter, was not. Alex enrolled in Love is Blind to do personal growth work on his superficiality. Then, when the experiment partially worked, he defaulted back to that superficiality while maintaining the language of growth. Episodes 7–9 confirmed this diagnosis and added several new symptoms.

Alex asked Ashley to share a period tracker app with him so he could monitor her menstrual cycle. His stated reason is fear of getting her pregnant. Ashley attempted to explain that this is not how menstrual cycles work. They argued. Ashley later apologized, which is its own kind of problem, but they reconciled. The tension, however, remained.

Before that, Ashley took Alex to meet her father, Paul, a lawyer who did not hold back. Paul grilled Alex over steak in what can only be described as a deposition. By one count, Paul asked Alex 31 questions. The topics ranged from Bitcoin to Trump (both are Trump supporters; Alex did not vote, which Paul immediately flagged as somehow worse) to Alex’s job, living situation, nomadic lifestyle, and past relationships. At the end of the interrogation, Paul delivered his verdict.

“I’m not saying he’s a bad person. But I don’t think honesty is his strength.” And who can blame him? Alex sure talked fast, but he also contradicted himself multiple times and got his timelines wrong over and over again (which would come up later when talking about his past relationships with Ashley, big surprise).

And look, this judgement about honesty is coming from a man so insecure that he declares himself the “patriarch” of the family. In other words, if a guy who supports Trump of all people thinks you’re dishonest, then what is your actual recovery from that? Of course, due to their mutual Trump support, it’s more of a “let them fight” type situation between men with abysmal politics. But what Paul understood, and what Ashley is slowly coming to understand, is that Alex is not confused about what he wants. He is confused about whether he wants what he said he wanted.

Alex came on Love is Blind because he thought he should want an emotional connection over physical attraction. He became engaged to Ashley because the pods worked as advertised. That is, he formed an emotional connection without the distraction of appearance. But now that he can see her, and now that he has seen Brittany and who knows who else, and now that he has time to think about what his life will look like with someone who is not his “usual type,” he is having second thoughts. Not about Ashley as a person. About Ashley as a body.

This, to be clear, is not a crime. People are allowed to have physical preferences. People are allowed to realize mid-engagement that they made a mistake. What is not allowed—or should not be allowed, though clearly it is—is the cruelty of staying engaged to someone while telling other people, on camera, that you are not sure you are attracted to them.

The couples we’re not talking about (but should be).

1. Vic and Christine, or: The Only Adults in Ohio

While Chris was body-shaming Jessica, and Alex was asking Ashley to track her period, Vic St. John and Christine Hamilton were having an actual adult conversation about raising interracial children. It was nice!

Vic is Black. Christine is white. They talked, with remarkable candor, about what it will mean to raise biracial children in a country where race very much matters despite what the pods might suggest. Vic’s experiences differ from Christine’s because of the color of his skin. Their children will have experiences that Vic understands more than Christine will. And their children will also have experiences that neither of them, as individuals, can fully comprehend.

What’s amazing is that both of them acknowledged this. They did not try to resolve it with platitudes. They simply said: yeah, this is real, and we are going into it with our eyes open. What a concept.

Christine took Vic to her hometown of Hillsboro, Ohio, a place she admits she has never shown anyone because she was embarrassed about where she came from. They fed horses and visited the bowling alley where she spent her teenage years. She told the camera, “He feels like home.” Earlier, they even played Pickleball, which I play literally every day. Should I be friends with these people?

Anyway, Vic met Christine’s mother, who declared him “hot” within the hour, which is perhaps not the most substantive endorsement but is certainly an enthusiastic one. Vic showed Christine his classroom at the university where he teaches public policy. He called her “a well of love.”

Reddit and Instagram, exhausted from prosecuting Chris and Alex, turned to Vic and Christine with something like relief. Mostly, these two are doing some serious heavy lifting in Ohio’s advertising as a state. And most agree that their conversation about interracial marriage was one of the best of the entire season.

And yeah, it probably was. Because it was the only conversation in Episodes 7–9 to treat marriage as more than a romantic conclusion, it treated marriage as a beginning. The start of a shared life that will involve navigating systems and structures that do not care how much you love (or say you love) each other.

2. Emma and Mike, or: You Cannot Have Half a Child

Emma Betsinger does not want children. Mike Gibney does. This is not a negotiation. This is not a thing that can be compromised on. You cannot have half a child. You cannot have a child “for now” and revisit the question later. One of them will not get what they want, and that person will resent the other, and the marriage will end.

Episodes 7–9 made this clearer than Episodes 1–6 did. Mike’s Italian family made their expectations known, after all. They want grandchildren. Mike’s mother cried for two days before meeting Emma because she had not been able to watch the proposal. The family “clearly envisions grandchildren as part of their future.” Which is a polite way of saying they expect Emma to change her mind. Or for Mike to say “no” at the altar.

Emma’s family, by contrast, supports her. They understand that her hesitancy about motherhood is not a fear to be overcome, but a considered position arrived at through a lifetime of medical negotiation. She has no relationship with her biological parents. Nor does she know her genetic medical history. And it’s clear from how she talks about her childhood that she felt isolated from her adopted family growing up. (Something that clearly took them aback in that moment). It’s no wonder the idea of having kids or some “maternal instinct” terrifies her.

On top of that, her relationship to her body is not the same as Mike’s relationship to his body. And her relationship to the idea of creating another body is shaped by that difference.

Mike has said he would never want Emma to change her mind for him and resent him and their child later. But he also keeps bringing it up. He also suggested genetic testing, as though the issue is Emma’s lack of information rather than Emma’s informed choice. He also, when his phone was returned, and he learned that two of his friends were having babies, immediately steered the conversation back to children.

It’s just odd because this is not a problem with an easy solution. So why are they pretending that it is?

The show, so far, has allowed this storyline to unfold with unusual honesty. It has not tried to paper over the incompatibility with romantic montages or reassuring music. It has simply let Emma say no, let Mike say yes, and let the audience watch them fail to resolve the gap. Whether the show will allow them to end the engagement before the altar, or whether it will drag them to the altar for the sake of drama, remains to be seen. But it should not. They should end this now. Or, a year before now, you get what I mean.

3. Brittany and Devonta, or: The Couch Conversation That Fixed Nothing

Brittany Wicker and Devonta Anderson have been truly battling it out with their own internal monologues this season. Episodes 7–9 gave them a couch conversation to maybe hopefully sort things out. Brittany asked Devonta why he wasn’t more vocal about his attraction to her or more physically affectionate. They talked. It helped, temporarily.

But couch conversations can only buy time. They do not solve the problem that necessitated the conversation. Devonta apparently isn’t attracted to Brittany the way the pods promised he would be. Brittany knows this and seems to feel the same way about him.

The only question is whether they will admit it before the altar or at the altar. And, well, my money is on before.

4. Bri and Connor, or: What Happens When Your Ex Wants Your Sex

Bri McNees and Connor Spies should’ve been fine. They bonded over “Mr. Brightside” and mutual dreams of coaching their kids’ sports teams. Connor bought a house to prove he’s ready for marriage, and it’s a real fixer-upper, to say the least. Still, Bri says she loves him. You know, through gritted teeth.

And then Chris cornered Bri at the bowling alley. He told her he regretted not choosing her in the pods. And she didn’t shut him down, even after bad-mouthing him with the other girls earlier. It could be an editing trick, of course, and production often “instructs” these people to egg each other on. But this keeps happening with Bri. She is clearly hung up on this guy in some way, and considering how much she knows about his character, that says a ton about hers.

Maybe the truth is that Bri is a woman who made a choice in the pods and is now being forced by circumstance to defend that choice against a bad dude who thinks she made the wrong one because he only cares about himself. The fact that she has to defend her choice at all—to Chris, to the cameras, possibly to herself—is the problem. A problem she seems happy to dish out on television for all to see.

Connor, for what it’s worth, showed remarkable composure during all this. He didn’t storm over. He didn’t make a scene. The guy just watched and waited. Whether that’s maturity or passivity is the question the show wants us to ask. Whether Bri decides it’s maturity or passivity is the question she’s probably answering in her head during that entire exchange. She is, after all, the person who obsessively lamented over everyone moving on from their pod relationships so fast. Which, you know, is the whole point of dating and relationships. Shoot, maybe she should’ve been with Alex.

5. Jordan and Amber, or: The Logistical Realities No One Wants to Talk About

Jordan Faeth and Amber Morrison are the couple whose structural obstacles feel the most tragic. For starters, Jordan initially told producers that kids were a dealbreaker. He met Amber, though, and reversed course. In these episodes, he met her family and charmed them. His sisters have boys the same age as Emma. It all feels, on paper, perfect.

But Jordan has not yet met Emma. That is not a small step. That is the step that determines whether this relationship survives. Amber’s anchored to Mount Vernon, Ohio, because of Emma’s school and her support network. Jordan’s life is in Columbus. Someone has to move, and that someone is almost certainly Jordan. The fact that he doesn’t relent on this immediately is a red tomato of a flag.

Because really, the question is whether he is ready to restructure his entire life around someone else’s existing rhythms. These people are clearly at different stages of their lives. Even if they do marry each other, it’s hard to see it lasting. Especially because every time Jordan touches or hugs Amber, she looks genuinely repulsed, and that’s just sad for everybody.

What Season 10 reveals about Season 10.

Let it be said once again and forever that Love is Blind has never actually been interested in whether love is blind. The show is interested in what happens when you take people who believe love is blind and force them to open their eyes.

Chris believed, or claimed to believe, that emotional connection was more important than physical attraction. The pods worked for him in a sick, twisted way. He formed a connection with Jessica. They became engaged. Then he saw her, compared her to the women he usually dates, and decided the emotional connection was not enough. He is not wrong to have realized this. He is wrong to have realized it the way he did. By essentially pretending to be a totally different person, deceiving everyone, ghosting his own partner, and then making a “flying f*****g” fool of himself.

Next, Mike believed that Emma would come around on the kids’ question if he just loved her enough and gave her enough information. The pods (you guessed it) worked. They fell in love. They became engaged. Then they came home, and his family cried because they wanted grandchildren, and Emma’s family supported her choice not to have them, and Mike kept bringing it up as though repetition would change her mind. He is not wrong to want children. He is wrong to have proposed to someone who does not want him, and then acted surprised when she still does not want him.

Finally, Alex believed, or claimed to believe, that he wanted to break his pattern of prioritizing appearance. The pods worked for him, too. He formed a connection with Ashley. They became engaged. Then he saw her, and he saw Brittany, and he started distancing himself from Ashley and spiraling when questioned about his past relationships. When Paul said to the camera that honest people usually have honesty written all over them, he wasn’t wrong. It’s hard to look at a guy like Alex and believe a word he says.

See, the pods do not eliminate bias. They displace it. They give people just enough time to fall in love with a voice before they have to reckon with the person who owns that voice. Season 10 has been more honest about this than most previous seasons, which is why it has been less pleasant to watch. The first six episodes were boring because the show was trying to avoid the mess of Season 9 by exaggerating conflict. Episodes 7–9 have not been boring because the conflict the show tried to whip up simply waited until everyone was back in Ohio and then exploded.

The question now is whether any of these couples—besides Vic and Christine, who appear to have understood from the beginning that love being blind is a starting point, not a destination—can navigate the gap between who they thought they were in the pods and who they actually are outside them. But at this point, the real question is whether this season will end with any successful weddings at all.

Love is Blind Season 10, Episodes 7–9, is now streaming on Netflix. Episodes 10–11 drop February 25, 2026.

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Images courtesy of Netflix