The Lessons We Learn from 'Love Island'

"I'd love to video you right now so you could see yourself," an old girlfriend told me as we got to that hysterical point of fighting in which one party (me) had convinced themselves that the way to win the argument was to behave like a child.

"I'd love to video this," I said, imagining the entire world on my side. If only they could see us! We'd upload the video onto YouTube, it would go viral, everyone would feel sorry for me, Malala would parachute in through my window and hand me the Nobel Peace Prize.

And that's the beauty of the TV show called Love Island. It's a six-week-long recorded lovers' spat. Each night we tune in, not just to escape our shitty lives, but to assess who's wrong or right in love. When Piers Morgan cried that "It's brain dead TV for sex crazed, money grabbing, amoral wastrels" he might have been right on the first two counts, but he's wrong on the third. Love Island is just about the most moralising show we have.

Last year Polly Neate, the CEO of Women's Aid, made an example of season three's Jonny Mitchell when he said that his partner would have to be prised from his "cold, dead hands". "All of us have a duty to call out this sort of behaviour and challenge these sexist remarks when we hear them," she wrote. Similarly, this year the same charity warned about signs of emotional abuse from Adam Collard, who had, to use Love Island parlance, "pied off" three women on the show, all while severely devaluing their feelings.

Love Island isn't just casual voyeurism. It's a show which has the power to actively police our most private relationships. Besides its exposure of abusive behaviour, each contestant is there in order to help clarify our own moral sympathies. Type "loveisland" into Twitter and you'll find thousands of viewers analysing the behaviour of each contestant, arguing why we should be more like OG Laura and less like New Laura; delineating what makes Dr Alex such a malicious Prawn Boi; and what makes Dani and Jack #couplegoaaallzzzzzz.

Its sole focus on love, sex and desire is what makes Love Island potentially more didactic than any other reality TV show. Contrary to popular belief, we are our worst selves when we fall in love. Love makes Laura hysterical, love makes Adam a total fucking shit, and love makes a cocktail of Dr Prawn. They’re the perfect people to endure this broadcasted torture. They’re all on the cusp of being admitted into the Instagram Class, of being able to sell water and toothpaste on an app like dazzling Avon representatives. But first, they have to go through the ugly ordeal of falling in love. And, let’s be clear, falling in love is about as dignified as wetting yourself when you're 50 miles away from home, then sneezing and shitting yourself, then taking yourself to JJB Sports with shit and piss dribbling down your knees, then asking Maggie behind the till if they still sell those Diadora shorts, like the ones you were made to wear in PE when you forgot to bring your gym kit, or had, you know, pissed or shit yourself.

It's why appealing for Love Island to diversify beyond its cast of mostly white, slim-bodied heterosexuals is a bit like nailing "NEED MORE POCs + LGBTQs" onto the gates of hell. If anyone should have to go through a cum-flecked Hades in order to teach us a lesson, shouldn't it be the cartoonishly attractive and privileged? After all, we wouldn't be able to form our moral distinctions if we could actually relate to these people.

It’s why it felt a bit rich when Sir Michael Wilshaw, the former chief of Ofsted, said he'd seen five minutes of it and was appalled, calling it "a sad reflection of the education system". No one is taught how to cope with the game of ego tic-tac-toeing that is falling in love, being respectful in love, being right in love. While love might have once been the space where we felt able to act out our worst behaviours without judgment and morals (hi, everyone's divorced parents), Love Island has shown us that being in love requires formal education. And, as of writing, new guidelines are being formulated before compulsory lessons in Sex & Relationship are added to the school curriculum.

But until then, Love Island has provided the keenest insight into how we behave when we're in love, and what that looks like from an objective point of view. So, we'll take the lessons it has taught us this summer and we'll second-guess next time we are content in our relationship, but "could be happier", thanks to Wes; we'll end relationships with people too immature for us sooner, thanks to Laura; we'll never, ever say "I think we have a connection" thanks to Alex. And we'll call the next person who undervalues our emotions an "Adam" and finally feel like the world is on our side because of it.

@emmamaddenuk

More Love Island:

In Defence of Megan Barton-Hanson

I Am Sick! And Tired! Of That Pink Doctor from 'Love Island'!

The Bittersweet Experience of Watching 'Love Island' When You're Gay

We Know 'Love Island' Is Staged, But That Doesn't Stop Us Watching