I have a confession to make. I’m not talking about a “Yea, whatever, we’ve all done it” type of sham confession, like “I’ve sworn in front of my kids,” or, “I can eat a full bag of chocolate chips in one sitting.”
Oh no, this is far more image-shattering. I could potentially lose half of my bare-acquaintances on Facebook by admitting this dirty little secret.
And yet, the need to maintain a decent reputation is outweighed by the urge to bare my soul, and perhaps give voice to others who share this feeling but are too afraid to speak out about it. So please hear me out and, at the very least, marvel at my bravery before condemning my idiocy.
Here goes nothing …
I watched some of the first season of “Gilmore Girls,” and I gotta say, I didn’t love it.
As you let the outrage wash over you, lemme list a couple things I did like about the show:
1) Delightful, quippy dialogue and solid acting
2) McDreamy the II (Scott Patterson)
3) Relatable, quirky characters and intriguing exploration of family communication patterns in managing multigenerational conflict
I think we can all agree on a few of its weaknesses:
1) Oy with the pop culture references already
2) TMMM (Too Much Melissa McCarthy)
3) Perpetuation of the myth that you can eat tons of junk food and still be thin and have a fresh-as-a-thousand-daisies complexion
Really, I think I could overlook these minor flaws and embrace everyone’s favorite mommy/daughter/sista friends if it weren’t for one important sticking point: the show’s too girly for me.
Maybe that’s because I have two sons and am married to a sports fan, which means our TV is typically dominated by Jedi, superheroes, and all the football that could ever be watched. Or maybe it’s because there hasn’t been a good romcom since “10 Things I Hate About You,” and as that genre has bit the dust, I’ve fallen out of habit viewing chick shtik.
In any case, given that I’m not a huge fan of the “Our Love Lives Are a Hot Mess But At Least We Have Each Other” dramedy trope, I don’t find the fast-talking Gilmore gals all that fascinating.
I can feel your indignation radiating from your device’s screen. I know I struck a 2016 election-level nerve saying something negative about America’s sweethearts.
Considering how Gilmore Girls Addiction spans a spectrum of ages, personalities, and tampon preferences, giving it a “meh” rating puts me at risk for rejection and labeling as anti-all-things-women-hold-dear. Once this gets out, I expect to face an onslaught of judgment, derision, and a host of disgusted “can’t evens.”
Before you brand me a traitor and ban me from future ladies nights out, let me reassure you that I am, indeed, a woman, and enjoy watching shows traditionally targeted at female audiences. I grew up on “Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman”; I was a devoted “Fashion Police” Joan Ranger; I, like the rest of humanity, simply adore Chip and Jojo. Through no major fault of the show itself, I just don’t consider “Gilmore Girls” as obsession-worthy as does 99 percent of the world’s female population.
Perhaps, in time, I could come to better appreciate Lorelai and Rory, and even want to tag along on their mile-a-minute running commentary as they meander through Stars Hollow and womanhood.
Oh wait. There are seven seasons and a new one that just came out on Netflix?! Screw that; I’m streaming “Daredevil” and watching Matt Murdock kick the crap out of some bad guys.
To each her own taste in coffee and entertainment.
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