So I’ve met someone. It’s not my intention to break too many hearts here, but let me complacently say, I think it just might be love. I have fallen head over oxford-style-heels for Downton Abbey. Like all worthwhile romances, it caught me off guard; I wasn’t looking to commit, but it wooed me. Believe you me, this is soul mate type stuff. Yes, I realize Dr. Phil would probably diagnose me certifiable for my newfound emotional attachment to a television show, but let me make one thing clear: I Love TV and do not particularly care for Dr. Phil.
Much like so many fleeting relationships, television shows float in and out of my life; sometimes they are fun and sometimes they are heartbreaking. There are those I’m willing to commit to long term, those that don’t meet my expectations, those I like but to which am too ashamed to admit, some I’ve cried over when they’ve ended (cough Gilmore Girls cough) and some, even though they meant a lot to me, I’ve sadly lost touch with.
As with any relationship, there is nothing better than the promise of a new one. The giddiness, the excitement, the anticipation, the OMFG! DID THAT JUST HAPPEN moments. It is almost too much for one girl to handle. So yes, I have developed a crush and have all the tell tale signs (much, I assume, to the annoyance of all my friends).
I can’t focus on anything else. Forget being productive at work or going to the gym. I am far too preoccupied day dreaming about Matthew Crawley. How does anyone expect me to focus after I just found out William has enlisted in the army? A few days ago, I’m ashamed to admit, I actually started spelling the noun “downtown” sans the second w.
I can’t talk about anything else. I constantly think of ways to bring it up in conversation. I find myself starting every sentence with “This one time on Downton Abbey...”, or “Well on Downton Abbey they...” and if those can’t be finagled into conversation, I make an abrupt transition by yelling out “I’ve started watching Downton Abbey!” and hope for the best.
Even the slightest bit of contact gives me butterflies. Articles, tweets, brief mentions in strangers’ conversations I overhear on the subway; I find it all terribly thrilling.
I really want to introduce it to my friends, but am also really nervous they won’t like it. I really want my friends to meet Mr. Bates, Daisy, Lady Sybil and Mrs. Patmore so we can gab about how great they all are. I really want them to despise Thomas, fear Mrs. O’Brien and share in my annoyance yet admiration of Lady Mary; but I’m anxious they won’t. Won’t understand what I see in it.
Other plans don’t seem as important. I am not saying I’ve actually bailed on any plans, yet. What I am saying is that when my brunch plans got cancelled this past Saturday I fully embraced the opportunity to make myself a cup of tea and bask in the sexual tension brewing between Lady Sybil and Bronson.
I’ve started to ignore people. This may come as a shock to you, but last Sunday I was watching Downton when unbeknownst to me the clock struck 10pm and I barely gave a millisecond of thought to watch Kim and Kourtney Take New York (disgraceful, I know). Yes, this does upsets me and I don’t condone this behaviour, it’s just not right.
If you haven’t yet embraced a new exclusively one-sided love affair with Downton Abbey, then you’re either a soul-less cretin of a human or you just can’t get down with old-timey period acting. For shame. Just know that you are missing out on some serious classic television that will be talked about for years to come, be prepared to be totally out of the loop. I suspect that you are the same jerks who eschewed Mad Men with a hasty fist. That really blew up in your face didn’t it?
Cordially yours,
Lady Lauren
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