It started last spring. I'd lost my last on-air alterego, and realized there was going to be a show premiering this fall that held my future in its hands. Not that I really believe my favorite characters come to life and force me to date inappropriately or run off to Paris. But there has just been such a string of tv women I relate to on a scary gut-level that the prospect of not having one didn't occur to me.
I think every single girl in a city has had their Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte or Miranda moments. Part of the charm of a truly good show, what makes it so beloved, is how universally it can apply to a stage of real life. My lives, married, single, dating and otherwise have always had small-screen doppelgangers. Beyond the Sex:City girls, I've embodied Mad About You's Jamie, done a few turns as Will's Grace, and questioned God with Arcadia's Joan.
Problem is, they've all been taken away like the big ol' console zenith that used to live at mom & dad's house. Some live on in reruns and dvds, but no one's alive in my set, so the search has been on to find the next piece of me in some hollywood writer's version of life.
the jury's still out... but I found myself nodding in agreement with Tree's Marin as she navigated a common single girl quagmire: the struggle to balance self sufficiency with a need to ask for help when the bed's too heavy to move alone. Not that I'm chucking my life and moving to Alaska anytime soon; the cold, dark Minnesota winters are close enough.