Sometimes, I wonder if my IQ lowers with every point of contact I make with Ryan Lochte. Iâ€™ll look at his face or his abs and zone out for a second, but then heâ€™ll open his mouth and my mind will be equally unstimulated. So I might be killing some of my brain cells by watching E!’s What Would Ryan Lochte Do?, but #YOLO, you guys! (Did I just use #YOLO in a sentence? Jeeeee-ah…Oh shit. I probably used his catchphrase wrong too. Sorry, too much douche.) The show is seriously designed for people who can only focus on a single topic for five minutes, max. And I’ve come to realize that’s probably so Ryan can sit through an entire episode of his own show. He has the attention span of a child, and shares some other qualities with them too.
So here we have it, the dumbest lines straight from the mouth of this babe. Because that’s kind of what we’re dealing with here.
â€śI guarantee I will be the first one peeing in that Reflecting Pool.â€ť For some reason, Ryan Lochte can’t stop talking about his own urine. The first thing he does when he gets to Washington D.C. is mention that he wants to mark his territory in the Reflecting Pool. His mom basically responds, â€śHa ha, thatâ€™s adorableâ€ť because, again, everything he says is precious. He may be in the Capitol to give a speech for his charity of choice, Project Parent Muscular Dystrophy, but pee jokes are still appropriate. Always appropriate in Lochte Nation.
â€śI always pee in the pool. You have to.â€ť NO YOU DONâ€™T. I repeat: YOU DONâ€™T HAVE TO. In fact, there are a million other things you have to do in a pool, like swim and hold your breath and try not to ingest chlorine. You want to know whatâ€™s not on that list? Peeing. Maybe Ryan Lochte has a Pavlovian response to bodies of water, in which he must talk about peeing in a pool of water whenever he sees one. If so, we should probably get him some help. Save Ryan Lochte!
â€śDamn Iâ€™m a genius. Look at this!â€ť [points to newly-tied tie] I get it. Ties are hard. But the level of joy Ryan feels after tying it is so exuberant that I’m actually proud of him. He tried to pull off tying his tie into a knot (â€ślike my shoes!â€ť), so I guess this is actually a big milestone.
“You know what? I swim. So I don’t know much about, like, all this that’s going on [in the world].” While at a bar with his mom, some D.C. girls approach Ryan, and they present him with various questions about the economy and gun control and Obamacare. With their knowing looks, it’s so obvious that they’re just trying to mess with him. And it works. Lochte zones out and looks super pained, before finally throwing in the towel. He swims, dammit! He doesn’t know “all this that’s going on”! If there’s one thing you have to give him credit for, it’s his blatant honesty.
â€śI know what being able to walk around, run, and jump feels like…it feels good. I want to help kids who donâ€™t know what that feels like.â€ť This is why you canâ€™t get too mad at Ryan Lochte! Heâ€™s like a sad little dumb little cute little puppy. Just confused. You can tell he comes from a good place when talking about why he supports his charity, but he has absolutely no tact. It’s almost sweet, in a bro-tastic sort of way.
â€śUnder each bullet point I had a little…bulletin? Um, like a fact.â€ť Ryan makes a big show of saying that he never gets nervous and he never prepares for speeches and he never has a speech cheat sheet. But this time, on the advice of his mom and his friends, he prepares an outline. Too bad he can’t explain what an outline is. And therein lies the central tension of watching this show. His eyes look so lost and his face looks so confused at the most basic questions that you physically have to will yourself to believe he actually exists as a person in this world. You’re torn between awww-ing at the sweet lines he says about how muscular dystrophy affected his family and cringing at the lines that make you wonder if he’s ever taken an English class. And then he removes his shirt and you’re like, cheap ploy, E! But still, it works. Sigh. Way to exploit my (fe)male gaze.