Booze, bust-ups and breakdowns: Toxic truth about reality TV
CHRISTIE Jordee thought she had a real chance to find love on Married At First Sight Australia. But within days she knew she was just there for ratings. Now, she has a bleak warning for those keen to sign up for love on reality TV.
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THERE’S nothing quite like watching your reputation crash and burn online, as former Married At First Sight star Christie Jordee learned in June 2016.
A month after her season of the hit reality show Married At First Sight aired, Christie Jordee found herself laying curled up on the floor of her Sydney home, crying hysterically, as news broke that her on-screen romance with “farmer” Mark Hughes was over.
The online backlash was swift and it was nasty. Many people blamed Jordee for the split.
“Women are really harsh to other women. I just got nailed,” she tells BW Magazine, recalling that awful day.
“I’ll never forget that day. I was just pacing and I ended up on the floor in a foetal position. I couldn’t breathe. I think I was hysterically crying for about three solid hours.”
Ill-equipped to handle the public reaction, Jordee is still angry at what she says was the failure of the show to support her through the aftermath.
She claims all she received from the show were two brief phone calls from a psychologist who told her: “You sound strong, you’ll be fine.”
“When he rang the second time, and asked how I was, I said ‘I’m OK, but my family’s not,’ ” Jordee says.
“He just said, ‘Tell them to not read the comments.’ He didn’t ring back to check on me.
“It affected me for a good year, year-and-a-half, mentally, and to mend. The show should have done so much more.
“There should have been full-on counselling, but I think what they should have done is actually match us properly, not just for TV.”
When Christie signed up for MAFS, it was only in its second season so love shows were relatively new in Australia.
She saw it as more of a documentary-style experiment. The promise of a relationship expert, a psychologist and a neural psychologist matching her was enticing for the then 39-year-old who was eager to start a family.
“I thought what the hell, I’d give it a go. I wasn’t meeting anyone sitting in my lounge room,” she says.
But days into filming, she knew she’d made a mistake. The promised matchmaking was little more than a few questionnaires, most filled out on camera.
“They’d done no real matchmaking beforehand,” she says.
“Experts didn’t match us — it was 100 per cent, no doubt, the producers.”
MOVING ON
While Christie now says she was naive to go on the show, she still fumes at the ease in which she was used as ratings fodder.
“Nothing prepares you for the editing,” she says, revealing much of what viewers saw on the show was manufactured.
Her “farmer” Mark was an offshore rigger who aspired to be a farmer. Her sulkiness at her “wedding” was due to a bout of severe seasickness.
A fight with Mark actually showed her anger with a producer (they got on great, she says). Much of the drama from group dinners came as a result of hours of alcohol, no food, and prodding from producers.
“As much as people say you know what you’re getting into, you don’t. You can’t prepare anyone for that,” she says.
Christie says she got off lightly in the editing suite, but she still felt her portrayal was not authentic. After the show she was consumed by the way people perceived her.
“I wanted to clarify to every single person who I really was,” she says.
But it was having her every look and word dissected by the public online that was so dehumanising.
She now has bleak advice for those keen to sign up to the next batch of love shows. Go for Instagram fame — the endorsement cheques or a queue jump into celebrity. If you’re authentic and want to find love, expect to be burned.
“Even if you do find someone, the aftermath of it — the relationship struggles — you go through hell,” she says.
“It’s not about love, it’s about good TV.”
As viewers justify the struggles of life after reality TV as part of the deal of seeking 15 minutes of fame, the number of stars who’ve tumbled into mental health crisis raises questions about our own toxic love affair with these shows.
This year, several former reality TV stars have spoken out about the fallout — from loss of earnings and difficulty finding employment after the show, to the psychological impact of being cast as villains and the toll of online abuse.
At least 21 reality TV stars around the world have taken their own life in the past decade — with the recent suicide of UK Love Island star Sophie Gradon leading to calls for producers to better screen castmates and provide greater after-show care.
Christie’s fellow MAFS contestant Clare Verrall last month revealed she attempted suicide twice after the show.
The then 28-year-old, who suffered post-traumatic stress disorder after an unprovoked attack in 2015, had a complete breakdown after the show.
Matched on-screen with a partner who had been ordered by a court to complete an anger management course after admitting assault in a 2008 bar brawl, the pair clashed on the series and split well before filming finished.
Verrall later spent a month in a mental health facility.
Christie says using people’s vulnerabilities for ratings is a dangerous game, made worse
by the use of alcohol on set to create conflict and drama.
On this year’s The Bachelor, featuring Nick Cummins, boozy dinners were the norm, with contestant Shannon Baff appearing so drunk she was stumbling and slurring her words.
She later said she wasn’t drunk, just emotionally drained. It made for uncomfortable viewing.
Christie says there should be laws regulating the use of alcohol on set, with a limit of two drinks and food available, to prevent people being manipulated on camera.
“At the dinner parties they give you alcohol, they don’t feed you, they get in your ear, ‘Did you see the way she looked at you?’ so they rev you up,” she says.
“They’re using people’s innocence, and those young ones on The Bachelor, I just think they get those girls plastered and that’s why they start fighting.
“I honestly think the government needs to step in because they’re playing with people’s lives.”
A spokesman for Channel 9 said there was a dedicated show psychologist and support team available to every participant throughout the entire production of MAFS during broadcast and beyond, and they abided by responsible service of alcohol laws in all its productions.
“We take our duty of care seriously,” the spokesman said
Now 42, Christie is relieved she’s rarely recognised, though dating is still difficult when she reveals her past role on the show.
Her biggest regret is her window to have children is narrowing and while Mark was lovely, it was never going to work.
“Love is hard. I don’t know what it is about people these days but they think we’re disposable. I’m glad it’s the past, I wouldn’t do it again,” she says.
Originally published as Booze, bust-ups and breakdowns: Toxic truth about reality TV
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