What if…don’t “Give Me Everything” unless you’re giving me everything?

On streaming schedules, Pitbull, and that Bridgerton [redacted] scene

Dearest Readers,

I was engaging in a robust and spirited conversation about the new season of Bridgerton with a friend this morning (hi Claire!) and realized I have a lot to say. And what is this newsletter if not a place for me to muck about in between more polished projects? 

Spoilers follow for episodes 1-4 of Bridgerton season three, which premiered May 16th on Netflix. If you have zero interest in Bridgerton, rest assured I’ll be back in a few days with a fully unrelated collection of things/ideas. 

via Netflix

First, a caveat. I am not interested in delving into whether or not Bridgerton is just Cocomelon for horny adult women. If I have to cite a tweet that I am down to engage with, it’s going to be this one. If you’re still reading, my guess is that you’ve watched this “great gowns, beautiful gowns” of a show and regardless of its validity as an art object, you have thoughts. So I’m not going to get into guilty pleasure discourse or anything that pokes at the depths of what Bridgerton is “trying to say.” 

Instead, I want to talk about edging. 

Rather, what happens when Netflix joins a pair of horny hotties as an unwelcome third and completely obliterates the vibe.

In case you also have Bridgerton-induced short-term memory loss, a refresher: season three’s starring will-they-or-won’t they couple is Colin Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington. Since last season, Colin, played by just-a-guy Luke Newton, went on a long solo vacation, sucking and fucking his way around Europe. He’s returned with a new jawline and full-blown rake personality to match. Or at least that’s what they want us to believe. The only people who buy into this transformation are the nameless girlies of the ton and Colin’s platonic BFF, Penelope. 

Penelope is played by fountain-of-charisma Nicola Coughlin. (Did you know she’s 37?! That’s what happens when you stay moisturized, laughing, and standing up for what you believe in.) Pen undergoes her own makeover, finally embarking on a redhead’s most important journey: discovering jewel tones. Everyone is ripe and ready to fall in love. In theory, the stage is set. It’s going to be classic friends-to-lovers, with bonus “charm lessons” and tons of longing glances across ballrooms while the Vitamin String Quartet does Taylor Swift covers. Cue the angsty pining and miscommunication fumbles! 

But we’re missing a key ingredient. For friends-to-lovers to really work, the friends part needs to be essentially bulletproof. I want to see the two hotties living, laughing, and not-yet-loving. I want a history of antics. I want to feel a lived-in intimacy—the kind of closeness where you have your own language and can communicate with only eyebrows. In Bridgerton’s defense, Colin and Penelope probably had this, but the previous season aired two whole years ago. Kim Kardashian was still dating Pete Davidson then. Netflix knows our brains are broken and it’s unfair for them to expect us to just hop right on where they left off back in 2022, especially with something as delicate as the art of carefully stacking moments of subtle sexual tension until they reaches an impossible-to-ignore degree of headiness.

So instead of a satisfyingly slow swell to a crescendo, we get a hard pivot on Colin’s rake behavior the moment after Penelope begs him for a kiss. Mr. Bridgerton becomes fully drunk in love and it’s straight to ruining Penelope’s other prospect so he can get down to business in a shared carriage ride, complete with a “Give Me Everything” needle drop to accompany the finger-banging. 

Netflix, no! Bad! Do not give us everything! It is too soon! Especially if the aforementioned finger-banging is followed by an immediate off-the-cuff marriage proposal. I would have loved to see 1. at least a few more genuine friendship moments, whether in-scene or via flashback, and 2. more close calls. There’s a reason that post-hand-brush moment in the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice is a thing that really gets the girls going. I’m all for getting off in a carriage, but if catharsis is the goal, it’s gotta be earned. 

Part of why this is so frustrating is because it’s easy to imagine what may have happened behind-the-scenes. Since Netflix split this season into four episodes airing May 16th and four more episodes airing a whole month later on June 13th, one can only presume that the season was structured to give us some flavor of leading couple smut by the end of the part one “finale.” A different streaming schedule could have allowed for the big bang moments to happen wherever they belonged (later) vs. shoehorned in to make sure the horny quota was met. Either air those episodes weekly so we can have a steady drip or drop the whole season at once. I refuse to believe anyone has the self-control to self-pace four episodes evenly over a month and finish just in time for the next batch. 

Anyway, here’s hoping the rest of the season includes more juice than the purely external conflict of Colin discovering Pen’s gossipmonger alias. And please for the love of god, someone give Eloise a viable sapphic love interest who isn’t a Hunger Games extra sans redeeming qualities.

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

This newsletter brought to you by:

• Today’s issue of Embedded, in which Tyler McCall encouraged “being horny on main.”

• The Lizzie McGuire Movie, an icon in the friends-to-lovers canon, watched during lunch on a Wednesday.

• Trader Joe’s “Beach Day!” gummies.