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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me


where you lead

Gilmore Girls--the show I've blogged about and agonized over and hated and loved at the same time--wasn't renewed for an 8th season. This is actually a blessing, considering the show started seriously sucking halfway through last year. The Gabmore Girls were all talked out, and it was painful to watch.

I wasn't really sad to see it over. In a lot of ways my relationship with GG had became unhealthy; I wasn't getting any enjoyment out of it and I'd complain to my friends about how much I hated it when it wasn't on, yet I'd still sit down to watch it every Tuesday. And as much as I went on and on about how bad an 8th season would be--"i can't barely sit through it now, how am I going to sit through it then?"--I knew, deep down, that as long as aired I'd still show up to watch it. This, in essence, made Gilmore Girls my abusive boyfriend. And even though I felt slightly burned, I'm glad it broke up with me first, so I wouldnt' have to. Because I honestly don't know if I could.

But we've had some good times, so here's my swan song to the show that has been a big part of my life. I discovered the Girls the summer after season 1, via Gilmore Girls Beginnings, a marketing scheme created by the WB that pretty much aired repeats with a cornier beginning. The corny scheme worked--I made sure to watch the 2-hour season 2 premiere that September, making my mom sit down to watch it with me so we could bond. I was 15, and Rory was 15, and I thought it was cool that she took the PSATs the same time I did (although her score was ridiculously higher). I'd later grow to hate Rory, but that was no matter, since I already liked Lorelai better. She was funny and smart and everybody seemed to love her. She also gave me the false confidence that I, too, could have a baby at 16 and move to a cute town and own and Inn and look fabulous while doing it. Thankfully I was too big of a prude--and lacking for opportunities--to get knocked up, so I never had to learn the hard way the difference between fantasy and reality.

After years of soap opera 'shipping, Gilmore Girls gave me plenty of will-they or won't-they drama with Luke and Lorelai, a couple I loved before time and bad writing ruined them. Still, I dreamed (and maybe still dream) of one day fall falling in love with someone like Luke. I've searched for signs of sexual tension between myself and every cranky, stoic, mysterious, 'misunderstood' and emotionally unavailable (or downright unavailable) guy I could find. As you might have guessed, it hasn't turned out very well. Lesson learned: not every asshole has a heart of gold hidden inside. Some assholes are just assholes. Or, you know, not available.

Did I know who Norman Mailer was before he was a guest of the Dragonfly Inn? No. Embarassing, yes, but honest, and I have the show to thank for giving me some literary cool points as I dropped his name in conversations (if only they knew). Same goes for Ayn Rand and Sparks and Grant Lee Buffalo/Phillips and all the other indie, painfully cool bands and pop-culture figures and 70s TV stars that became blips on my radar all thanks to the show. I've always been the Queen of Random, the go-to girl who knew so little about so much, but GG just heightened my status and my knowledge. Again, thanks.

I used to get a lot of pleasure out of my Tuesday night ritual; there was a lot of love there. This relationship has run it's course, and now it's time we go our separate ways. It's time I find another show to love, to obsess over, to talk incessantly about. Gilmore Girls meant a lot to me at a time in my life where things like shows were supposed to. I've laughed and I've cried, and you just can't let that go completely.

I'm growing up, and so are my favorite TV characters. And I'm finally ok with that. I'm finally ok to let them go.

I wonder if my writing has even improved?