Is This Guy the Next 'Girls?'
I watched one episode of Girls, turned it off and never again watched it. The world would have thought I stopped breathing.
“What do you mean you’re not watching Girls?”
“I’ve watched every episode of Girls. It’s epic.”
Epic? That’s a little much. Did a ship sink or anything? No? Then it’s a good show. A good show I don’t want to watch.
“You only watched one episode? Well of course you don’t like it! Watch a few, then you’re hooked!”
Hooked you say? Okay, it did work with Nashville. (I just lost all cred with you, didn’t I?) I’m a sucker for some country. In fact, if I said that on a first date with you, you might turn around screaming. How could you possibly be attracted to someone who spends a night a week watching Hayden Panettiere pretend to have hardened over feelings?
If that really bothered you, that may even be our last date. Then a buddy of yours says, “Yeah, at first Mikey’s that guy who watches some cheesy shows and has sorta a funny walk, but wait until you hang out with him a few more times. You’ll really like him.”
Suddenly I’m the television show you can’t watch just once to really know. I’m Girls… without as much feminine angst but, perhaps, with just as much unnecessary nudity.
I used to think if I didn’t feel sparks the moment I met someone, they weren’t there to be felt, and they never would be. Isn’t that the kind of love that Nicholas Sparks movies are made of? (Yes, I am aware that they were originally books, but the books don’t have Rachel McAdams).
Lately, I’m realizing that the sparks might not come instantly, but that doesn’t mean they won’t ever. A few years back I had a boy I was trying to woo – so much so that any boy wooing in my direction fell on deaf ears. Waiting tables in Gay Town one night, Jimmy, a guy I’d never met before, waltzed in with a group of regulars. When I saw him I just thought… how obnoxious. I think he called it flirting. (Ok, so in the obnoxious, but still kinda cute way.)
After a couple more visits, he asked me out. I was still in hope-mode on my original fixation, but whether it’s a job or a date, turning down anything while in hope-mode is dangerous territory. It can lead to unemployment or a lifetime of cats. I said yes, and Jimmy and I went to lunch. Then our arms brushed against each other at lunch, and I thought, “That did nothing. I’m ready to go home.”
I guess I managed not to put him off by my tendency to pretend to throw my hair back behind my shoulders even though it’s never exceeded and inch and a half in length. So he asked me out again. Why did I say yes? Spite. The one I had my eye on cancelled on me yet again, and I was not about to waste a new dress…er…shirt. (Dress just sounded more dramatic.)
Based on our first lunch excursion to a barbecue shack next to Target, my expectations were pretty low. We would have fun. I would see a new flick, grab a meal. Then we would fizzle into running into each other at bars and giving a half hug while telling our friend, “yea, we hung out a couple times.”
New flick? Check. Meal? Check. Incredibly enjoyable conversation? Wait…what? Newfound sexual chemistry that made me nervous and giddy? Hey…that wasn’t what I was planning. Yet it happened. The only reason we made it to the bed after the date was because it was actually closer to the front door than the kitchen. I was smitten. (Do people still say that over the age of fifteen?)
So yes, in dating and in television, I now try not to judge by the first episode. Sometimes you just have to introduce the show before you jump on whatever ride this series will take you on that you can’t get enough of.
My affair with Jimmy lasted a pretty intense month before he got a job in another part of the world for a year. Though that relationship did not get renewed for a second season, the first was definitely Emmy worthy.
I watched another half an episode of Girls. Yep. Still didn’t like it. But then again, we know my taste in television.