Desperate Housewives

Okay. First of all, this is sort of jumping the gun because I haven’t finished the series. I mean, that’s impossible because it’s still running. 

But I have this confession to make. 

I kind of like this show.

I swore that I would never do it, I was appalled when I found out that people watched it and – even worse – were addicted to it. And then I had the opportunity to watch it free of commercials, free of cost, at a friend’s house in Belgium and, well, I took that risk. I made that commitment. It happened. And I totally see it now, since I watched it from the beginning. It’s terrible, really. The drama is way out of whack, women are mothers in the morning, hookers in the afternoon, wives at night, friends one day, enemies the next, and yet you get caught up in it. Well, I’ll speak for myself; I get caught up in it.

I once went to a party back home following a relatively high-profile golf tournament, and one of the performers was Band From TV, which features James Denton on lead guitar. I admitted to myself that he was pretty cute, albeit a little short, but definitely working the badass t-shirt he had on. And yes, I remember the t-shirt. So when I made the connection that he was Mike Delfino, a.k.a. Teri Hatcher’s best job yet, I was basically won over by a show that made me lose any sense of media-related dignity that I had left in me. But, after all, happiness is losing your dignity to bad television, isn’t it?

These actresses don’t have the greatest challenges on their hands, but they sure are fierce. And, despite the fact that I’ve never come anywhere near the experiences on the show, I sense that each woman was based at least faintly in truth, because the pain and joy they experience on the show stem from something realistic. And that’s something I think we can all agree on.