The Gilmore Girls, Downton Abbey & The Comfort of Binge Watching

Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime have become wonderful substitutes for an actual social life. No, really. It’s not that I have that much time, but when I do have time, being able to choose enticing entertainment, rather than the nonsense that is on much of TV often keeps me from getting sucked into my obsession and addiction to the news.

I am addicted the dreariness of England, and have spent many an hour watching Masterpiece Theater, and various versions of British Dramas. I can identify various accents, and felt a bit too attached to watching the United Kingdom fall apart during the Brexit vote a few weeks ago. What would become of my British TV addiction? Would I be forever trapped into the watching and re-watching of Downton Abbey, Luther and The Fall, or was there hope that whatever Brexit meant, it would not affect my addiction to good quality television from across the Atlantic.

In spite of my roots, I am plainly sure that I was an Upstairs on some days, and a Downstairs on others. Secretly desiring layers of skirts and Victorian fashion, I stand with my sister Suffragettes and take my right to vote as seriously as if I had joined the protests many, many years ago. My Outlander addiction has become my recent substitute for Downton withdrawals. Have you seen Jaime in a kilt? No? It is a truly satisfying experience. Sadly, running into work, asking if anyone saw Downton last night has never worked. Us Masterpiece types tend to be more silent loners.

Thinking that I might branch out and watch some more widely popular and conversation stimulating binge inspiring shows, I let my fingers tiptoe into the top selections of Netflix, and visited my long standing list of “To Watch” shows to see what my options might be. Jumping out at me, as something that I might relate to, and which has again risen to the tops of the suggested watching list due to a coming release of new episodes, I settled upon The Gilmore Girls. I know. There’s no fog, or accents, but there is a single mom, and her daughter.

Immediately hooked by the clever banter between the mom and daughter, and the fact that there are 7 seasons during which I can get to know these characters, I start to watch. Light and fluffy, it is a far cry from some of the current issues currently weighing me down, I am instantly involved. Suggesting to my daughter that she might like this

, she tells me that her friends who are “obsessed”, and she was going to ask permission to watch it before my suggestion.

Not to ruin it for anyone who might decide to watch the show, or as I should probably yell “Spoiler Alert”, the show has begun to ring a little too true for me. Is it a good thing to so closely see yourself in a character? Faced with the prospect of marriage, there are fleeting feelings of confusion mixed with hesitation regarding  the failure to create a second set of keys, along with the fear that somehow the new husband might throw off the balance created in the home. He won’t know the lingo or the jokes. He won’t be able to catch on to the existing humor developed while watching the same movies together again and again.  Will it ever be possible to have someone break through that “outside” status? Is the inability to do so by my own choice, or because it is simply impossible to begin again at 50?

How I wish I had seen this before I married for the second time. It might have encouraged me to think about what I already knew deep in my heart; this just isn’t right. The realness of the seemingly fictional character comforts and supports me in the feelings that I had, along with my current lack of desire to join into a serious relationship. Seeing the subtle connections to my experiences in this show has kept me binging. Surrounded by seeming happy married folks, and newlyweds in my daily life, Lorelei and Rory have become my secret friends. Some things you just can’t say in real life. BFF tries, but really only Lorelei would understand.