LIB Season 8 Boring Guys Is Accurate For Minneapolis Dating

On Valentine’s Day this year, my single girlfriends and I set out to have the best Galentine’s Day possible. We went to the spa, then prepared a themed dinner (replete with fried chicken, heart-shaped chocolate chip cookies, and margaritas) to gear up for what was supposed to be the climax of the perfect day: the premiere of “Love is Blind,” season eight. We’d all been fans of the previous seasons and had strong hopes for this cycle, given that it takes place in no other than my hometown of Minneapolis. Would there be folks I went to school with? Would they do a special date scene in the waters of Lake Minnetonka? Would the cast members from Edina be insufferable?

Well, I couldn’t stay awake long enough to find out. Halfway through the first episode, all three of us dozed off out of sheer boredom. Despite Minneapolis boasting some of the largest Somali, Liberian, and Hmong immigrant populations in the country, it’s undeniable: This season is pretty white and pretty bland. And while the lack of racial diversity was a total misstep on Netflix’s part, I would argue that this season is actually a very accurate depiction of what it’s like to date in the Twin Cities.

This season is actually a very accurate depiction of what it’s like to date in the Twin Cities.

Before moving to Brooklyn almost four years ago, I lived in the Twin Cities my whole life. Hopefully some things have changed for the better, but from what I remember, dating was dismal and bleak, particularly as a Black woman. In general, the dating scene on the apps is dominated by every basic Joe-schmo white guy you can imagine — not unlike most of the men featured on the latest season of “LIB.”

To begin with, there’s the fact that a lot of Minnesotans partner young and never leave. If you don’t end up with your kindergarten sweetheart like most folks, you are doomed to the apps, where a good chunk of the men look like the guys in this season: Anglo-Saxon with a side-part combover. There are usually three staple pics in guys’ profiles: the classic polo button-up, a camo or bright orange hunting outfit, and, of course, the photo of him on a boat holding a giant fish. In other words, the apps, for me, were a homogenous cycling of the same 10 white guys who all looked like men I went to college with. I remember having a never-ending screenshot folder I called “things white guys say on the apps.” It ranged from corny, to cringeworthy, to racist — in the most Minnesota nice way, of course.

On the rare occasion I did match with someone, or perhaps even met in real life, I’d have to check to see if they’d dated someone in my inner circle. The Twin Cities can have a small-town feel, so when you drop a pic in the group chat, don’t be surprised to find out the guy you’re talking to dated your best friend in college or your nemesis in high school. When everyone knows everyone, you don’t want to have to deal with the social dynamics of getting with someone’s old flame — it starts to feel like the high school you never get to graduate from. By the time I was in my late 20s, I stopped dating at all for years because It felt like such a waste of time. The prayers of my mother and 300 Liberian aunties still couldn’t change things. The only thing that helped was leaving.

(Not to mention, Minnesota is cold. That makes it significantly harder to date than you’d imagine — I’m not cleaning off the snow and starting my car to go on a date with Chad from Target. It’s no surprise two of the cast members fell in love because they both were obsessed with Christmas.)

Now, I will always love my hometown, and it certainly has its own perks and charm. It’s beautiful; it’s a great place to start a family and raise kids if you went ahead and started right out of college; and the lakes are lovely. It’s a great place to live a regular, simple life. But in terms of dating prospects as a Black woman, it was about as much of a letdown as getting introduced to the “Love Is Blind” men.

As far as this season goes, I will likely only be tuning in to see how the love story of my fellow district 279 kiddos pans out (hey, Virginia and Devin). Could Netflix have been more intentional in creating a diverse and interesting cast? Absolutely. But, when it all comes down to mainstream dating in the Twin Cities, it really is that unseasoned. There’s only a speckle of black pepper in the tater tot hot dish.

Tarkor Zehn is a Liberian American writer and producer based in Brooklyn. With over 10 years in media, she has produced podcasts for INC Media, New York Magazine, and Vogue. You can find her writing in The Washington Post, MPR News, and TheWorld.org.