I paused before writing this piece. I hesitated for a variety of reasons. It wasn’t some feeling of embarrassment connected to the admission that I watch reality television. It’s not a staple for me, but I certainly haven’t shied away from it, either.
Why?
Oh, well, likely for the same reasons everyone else watches it. Escapism. There’s something delicious about watching the drama of others knowing full well it’s real (ish) and also, not your own. There is something about watching something absurd during a time when life is stressful and challenging.
In truth, I hadn’t watched Summer House for a bit when the scandal hit the news. While I could have ignored it altogether, it felt like a good time to dive in. And by that, I mean, go back. I had to catch up before I explored what is currently the stuff of memes, Substack pieces and Cosmo articles.
As I’m apt to do, I want to start with something of a disclaimer. I don’t know these people at all. In fact, one of the biggest mistakes I believe we make as humans is presuming that we know people because of their presence on social media or the internet or television. It’s intensely silly to imagine that what is put out there for the world to see isn’t a created narrative by whomever the author is- intended to show the worst or best, depending on the agenda at hand.
There is no discernable difference for me between the highlight reel and the smear campaign- as they are both only a piece of the story with the truth floating around somewhere in the middle. This is all to say that I don’t know these people at all- Amanda Batula, Kyle Cooke, West whatever the fuck his name is, and I would never presume to.
I am speaking from a place of observation and gut feeling. I am writing from a place of painful familiarity. These are my observations and my thoughts based on who I am and what I am seeing, and nothing more.
Good?
Good.
I went back a few seasons to get a sense of what’s been happening out there in the Hamptons- also to serve as a reminder for the main “characters” on the show. Something fairly intense happened to me when I did this. I instantly recalled certain of my relationships while watching the interplay between Amanda and Kyle.
For those of you who aren’t very familiar with Summer House and can think of many other things you’d rather do with your time (like watching paint dry), Kyle and Amanda have a long history of dating, getting married, and then, getting separated with a stated intention of divorcing. The timeline is roughly as follows: they meet in 2015, get together officially shortly thereafter, and then get married in 2021. They separated in November of 2025 and announced this formally in January of 2026. Let’s call it a decade.
The timeline is very important to devoted fans, and I get it, but less important for this little exploration we are about to embark on.
Kyle was (and perhaps still is) a fuck boy for most of their relationship. He refused to give a name to their relationship early on. Heavy drinker, intense partier, and occasional cheater (one known indiscretion was admitted to, but who actually knows the rest of it). Amanda expended a lot of energy trying to get Kyle to be the person she needed him to be in their relationship.
She said she loved Kyle for Kyle, but also, she spent a LOT of energy and time trying to get him to be a “better” partner. This was so evident to Summer House watchers, that many breathed a publicly shared sigh of relief when it became known that the two had parted ways. One of the reasons that the public is coming down so hard on Amanda is because one of Amanda’s biggest champions in the ‘move away from the fuck boy that is your husband’ exercise, was Ciara, the woman who Amanda wronged.
Let’s get this straight, the masses have screamed, you move away from Kyle only to betray Ciara, the woman who had your back through this entire misadventure you called a marriage?
Sure.
This is where I’m going to get deep and remind you that I don’t know the first thing about Amanda Batula. She might be a really awful person beyond the facts that are currently laid out in front of us. She might be a malicious, backstabbing, conniving bitch.
But also, she was deeply imbedded in a trauma situation and never really (at least not publicly) took ownership for her part in it, nor did she heal from it before moving on to someone new.
I’m here to tell you that it took me a long time and also, therapy, to own my role in the catastrophically awful relationships I had with men for much of my life. I vilified them without ever acknowledging that it does indeed take two. My expectations of these men to be someone they clearly were not, was on me. My choice to stay, in spite of the abuse directed at me, was on me. The dishonesty I used as a tool to avoid said abuse, was on me. Me, me, me.
And like Amanda, I didn’t move away from these relationships until one of two things happened: (i) I was broken up with, or (ii) I got the ick. Ironically, they talk about the ick on the show. That’s right. They give a name to that feeling you get when someone has rubbed you the wrong way for so long, so pervasively, that you can no longer see any good. You only see their flaws and faults.
Here’s the thing that very few people say out loud: many humans, myself included, stay after they get the ick. They do. I did. I got the ick and I stayed. It wasn’t until I was broken up with and had the ick that I decided to not go back. Or I had the ick and it naturally created a rift so significant in the relationship that it ended, typically with great drama and ugliness.
What’s my point?
Well, when I moved from trauma to another trauma and didn’t take the time to really process my role or what actually had happened, I continued making the same bad decisions. There was zero chance of me choosing someone who fit me because I didn’t even know what that looked like. My fit was whatever space a man was willing to leave for me. If that space was made smaller over time, I just shrunk myself to fit that new space.
The truth is that a person who is morphing like that and not accepting any responsibility for their own behavior, for consequences, isn’t really capable of having good relationships, platonic or romantic. They are so deeply intrenched in a situation that fosters inauthenticity that the thought of them being a loyal, reliable, stable partner or friend is laughable.
The old saying goes something like ‘no one will love you if you can’t love yourself’ and while we all cringe, it’s the truest thing out there. Maybe getting to love is a stretch, but unless you find yourself worthy, there is no chance you will attract or retain a partner that sees you that way.
People will tell you that Amanda was mean to Kyle at the end. I will tell you that she finally got the ick, but she didn’t know how to move away from him. And that her betrayal of Ciara to link up with West (a clear fuck boy) is not necessarily an indictment of her character, but a clear sign that she still does not think herself worthy. Not of meaningful female friendships, and not of a solid, healthy romantic relationship.
And could I be wrong about ALL of this? Sure. I could. But I don’t think I am. And Amanda will lash out and tell everyone to fuck off, because doing that and isolating herself in that way doesn’t feel as bad as owning her shit. She knows how to cut herself off, because it’s the thing you do when you are in a toxic relationship like she and Kyle entertained for ten years. You cut off your nose to spite your face and you hate yourself more, and you make bad choices.
Maybe Amanda Batula is happier than ever, but I’m going to argue she’s not. I think Amanda is just another sad, broken woman in New York City. I think she needs therapy and time alone, and accountability.
Do I feel sorry for her? No. Do I have compassion for her? Yeah. I do. And that doesn’t mean I don’t think she’s being a shitty person and a worse friend. It just means that there’s always more to the story, and trauma is a powerful weapon.
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