I'll never forget our first night together. It was a crappy hotel in Nevada, the same night I sobbed over that episode of Grey's Anatomy where we don't know if Izzie or George died (spoiler alert: it was George but it might as well have been Izzie cuz we never saw her again). And then I met you.
You kept me occupied for a good hour or so, and I found you fascinating. Sure, there were problems from the get go. Schue blackmailing Finn with marijuana he planted in his locker, for one. I can't stand Jane Lynch and want to send her to the moon so I never have to see her face again, but eh. At least she's a designated villain so it wasn't like I was supposed to like her, or anything (and I never did get the "love to hate" thing normal Gleeks have for her. I just don't). Rachel devastated by Finn's "unfaithfulness" when he was technically cheating on his girlfriend with her.
But I was enchanted, and willing to look past all of those minor things.
When the season FINALLY started, I remained in my honey moon phase. Sure, it was a soap opera--fake pregnancy plot, love dodecahedrons--the character development varied based on who wrote the episode and plenty of minor details tested the bounds of my suspension of disbelief, but the autotuning wasn't blatant and I was fairly emotionally invested in the characters, especially Emma, until...
I first remember nit-picking during Mattress. For one thing, the minors singing a popular song in a mattress commercial without any discussion of licensing issues? For another, minors in a commercial without parental permission? For a third, Will's freakout when he found out his baby wasn't real scared the crap out of me. I understand--I had a huge debate with Ethan about this--I understand he was upset. But people reacting violently--on screen or in real life--terrifies me, and his behaviour that episode completely destroyed any feelings of goodwill I had towards him, forever.
The rest of the season was a little lackluster. Nothing seemed to capture the magic of the first few episodes. Though the Idina Menzel subplot was beautiful and made me cry (even though we ALL SAW IT COMING EVEN BEFORE THE SHOW BEGAN I MEAN COME ON HAVE YOU SEEN LEA MICHELE AND IDINA MENZEL), I still found myself wondering how Quinn could give birth in the time it took for ONE SONG and why on earth would Rachel choose "Poker Face" as the one song to sing with her mom and why isn't Kurt getting called out for being a stalker? I mean really. The behaviours and values--which I tend to ignore in all the shows I enjoy--became more glaringly unpleasant and made me feel dirty, to where I no longer felt comfortable recommending the show to anyone under the age of 18. But I still indulged...
Season two has been rocky for us, hasn't it? Carl has RUINED Emma. Her clothes are off, her hair is off, everything is wrong. Rachel can't seem to figure out who she loves, Finn is lost, who the hell is that Swedish kid? what happened to the chinese chick? where is Quinn living now? Gradually, my snarking grew louder than my raving, and I knew I liked very little of Glee except complaining about it. Also Emma's clothes and Britney My Hilarious Twin.
But it wasn't until last night that I realised. Too much went wrong. I had a migraine, which didn't help, but our usual song and dance was just wrong. From the logistical realities of actually using a human cannon during a cheer routine to Will being present for Sue's dressing down to the fact that I HATE ZOMBIES WHAT THE HECK I WAS HOME ALONE THEY GAVE ME NIGHTMARES it was just wrong.
As I lay on the couch watching with an icepack completely covering the left side of my face, I asked myself, why am I putting myself through this? My reasons have always been "Britney and Emma's clothes", but there were no clothes on Emma because Emma was not there. And basically all Britney said, over and over, was "I don't want to die." Nothing funny there.
So Glee, I'm sorry. It's not you. You, like my exboyfriend, are as stupid as the day we met. I'm the one that's changed; I've lost patience with stupidity, and I'm can't excuse your ridiculous behaviour anymore. I can't love you anymore. I can't even like you anymore. I hope we can be friends--I'll keep an eye on your career and I wish you well. Congrats Chris Colfer for your award (Lara: "For playing HIMSELF that's not talent!"). But we can't enjoy that tight-knit rabid fangirlness we did in those early days, and I'm sorry for that.
So yes. We're over. Best of wishes.
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