I’m sorry I’m not Tim Rogers. I really am. But we must respect the man’s mental health, and since I’d be watching this mess anyway, I volunteered to recap season three of The Real Housewives of Dallas. But you should know that one of the main differences between me and Tim — apart from age, gender, and hair — is that I come to this show from a place of real love.
Like many, Bravo came into my life during a time of need. After a rough breakup, I discovered Vanderpump Rules, a near-perfect reality show that’s provided hours of entertainment and affirmation that, even on my worst personal and professional days, I’m doing fine. Southern Charm and the powerful feminist figure that is Kathryn Calhoun Dennis found me shortly after. On the Real Housewives front, I dip into Beverly Hills and Atlanta just to see what’s up, but the only ones I really care about are New York and, of course, Dallas, especially after it became clear that the second season would be radically better than the first.
And I mean, I care about them, much to the dismay of my parents, the kind of people who think all reality television is trash. And they’re not wrong! Most reality television is trash. Most things on Bravo are trash. RHOD is totally trash. But even in this peak TV era, it’s Bravo I turn to after a long day to sooth my mind and body. Its content has helped me survive endless small talk scenarios. I both love and fear the women of RHOD. This year, LeeAnne Locken walked by a group of us at DIFFA and half the people nearly fainted. That’s power.
So I’m definitely not Tim (I’m sorry!). I love this mess. I promise I will never talk about myself this much again in these recaps. So without further ado, let’s dive back into this beautiful, exquisitely edited disaster.
But, actually, before we do that, we need to address the fact that Brandi is the star-holder at the center point in the opening credits. Not LeeAnne, the likeliest and most appropriate choice. Not even D’Andra, who has the clout to pass as the center star. But scatological humor-loving Brandi. What gives? Also, there are new taglines. They’re fine.
We see lots of Dallas scenes. The ball! The trolley! The lifestyle porn of Cary driving a new Porsche! A dog in a hat! We finally settle upon Brandi. Since her “vagina is closed,” she’s recently adopted a baby whose name of course starts with a B. (It’s Bruin.) I have nothing bad to say about any of this. It’s wonderful. Stephanie, a former social worker, gave a major assist here and it’s incredible how smoothly the whole process has gone. This baby has red hair and green eyes and I’m truly happy for Brandi, a woman who once tweeted at me that I don’t know what the word “real” means, and her sweet, letter B-loving family. It’s great!
LeeAnne meets D’Andra for Mindfulness Meditation at the Dallas Yoga Center with someone whose real name is David Sunshine and congrats to David Sunshine on being the first balding person I’ve ever seen also have a man bun. We get our first glimpse at one of LeeAnne’s confessional looks and it’s … bold. Her hair and eyeshadow match her fuchsia top like some sort of Maleficent meets My Little Pony mashup. It’s still better than that blush from season one, but who did this?
There are only two things that matter about this meditation session with David Sunshine. The first is that LeeAnne is now blaming all her past volatile actions on something called an Amygdala, and the other is that, as the ladies “meditate,” the editors take the opportunity to flash back to all those volatile actions, which include the now-infamous “They’re not knives, they’re just hands” scene. I can’t wait to see how Bravo editors plan to work one of the greatest speeches of our time into every episode.
Baby Bliss gets some time in the reality TV sun as Stephanie meets Brandi to shop for Bruin. Stephanie bursts into tears when she first sees that baby, and, damn it, so do I. Over at Bistro 31, D’Andra and her husband Jeremy are doing a tasting for a party celebrating the all-crucial fourth anniversary and I can’t concentrate on anything that happens because JEREMY CAN GET IT IN THAT LIGHT BLUE SUIT. Jeremy can get it anywhere, anytime but I was not prepared to see that man in that suit. He describes something he eats as “dynamite,” and I don’t even care because I’m too busy searching for the nearest fainting couch. I do catch that they’re having said party at the home of Bill Hutchinson, of the Design District Hutchinsons. I’ve been to that Highland Park house for a D Home party, and it was sick. There’s gold everywhere.
We briefly catch up with Kameron and her Sparkle Dog food, but all that scene did was remind me that her kids’ names are Hilton and Cruz. Court (the South is so weird) wants her to spend more time at home so he pulls a pretty manipulative stunt by asking the kids if they want Mommy around more. Gross, Court. Kameron, who looks absolutely stunning in her confessional look (less is more, LeeAnne!), continues to drive the message home that she’s not a dumb blonde by talking about how she didn’t go to school to get her master’s in textiles. Fine.
Then there’s all this stuff about Cary and LeeAnne having issues, which I guess makes sense because LeeAnne said Cary’s husband gets his d*** sucked at the Round-Up and Bravo will blessedly never let us forget that. They play the clip (that’s twice now), and Rich and his eye patch (TBH, Rich can also get it) tell LeeAnne to just call her and say, “Hey. What’s up?” Men, amiright!? The women meet at Dream Café and I realize just how little I’ve missed Cary. Nothing of note happens but the juxtaposition of Cary in scrubs and LeeAnne in discarded scraps of a costume from La Cage aux Folles is a sight to see.
It’s finally time for D’Andra’s party at Bill Hutchinson’s gilded manse. All of the women look absolutely beautiful, but good God, LeeAnne, NO. No to this fishtail braid and this crystal-studded half flower crown. No to this glammed up peasant dress. It’s not your style. It’s not even on theme. WHO DID THIS?
(Rich has swapped his day eye patch for a night eye patch and looks dapper as hell.)
D’Andra seats Stephanie next to LeeAnne because she thinks they’d get along, and I do, too, actually. When Cary espies Stephanie espying the seating arrangement, she says that “Stephanie’s butthole just tightened.” Ew, Cary. Brandi doesn’t show because D’Andra Adderall-shamed her on a podcast or something,
But this is all low-key filler drama compared to the fact that Dee has arrived and Dee is one bad bitch. She confirms right away that she was the best tangential season two addition by dropping some actual gossip (ABOUT HER OWN DAUGHTER) that no one can believe that D’Andra is happily married because she had “a few experiences.” WOAH. Then she says, “I wish they’d do something, this is boring,” and hands her champagne glass to a young male guest to have it refilled. DAMN. Later, someone mentions that it’s so nice to see that D’Andra has found happiness and Dee chimes in, “I didn’t think she ever would.” ICE COLD, BABE. GIVE DEE THE CENTER STAR.
Bill Hutchinson gets up to speak in quite the jacket (seriously, what was the dress code here?) and says something about how in Dallas we do crazy s***. Indeed.
Until next week, when Brandi, a woman who once tweeted at me that I’m jealous of her, arrives tardy to a party.
