Hi Television,

I really really miss you. One week ago, after cramming in two more episodes of OINTB, the devastating GoT finale, Silicone Valley (which I think we’ll both admit is not either of our favorite spawn of yours, but it’s eye between GoT and Veep), and the Veep finale, we decided to take a break. Nothing permanent, I just think it’s best that we spend a month apart.

I think it’s rad how cool about it you were. You were all, “Netflix will be here when you get back. I’m sure you can manage to avoid any major spoilers on your favorite orange-clad girls. And Michael can still listen to Chicago Cubs games on the radio!”

I was really inspired by your reaction, but that kind of made it harder for me. You know, TV, you’re definitely one my longest relationships. You and I have spent more time together than anyone I know. So I thought, instead of lamenting on how I miss you so much, I’d just write you this love letter and reminisce about all the good times we’ve had over the years. After all, me writing more was one of the big ideas behind our mutually consensual hiatus.

When I was a kid, do you remember how you’d surprise me every now and then with free Disney channel for a week or sometimes a month?! My parents cable package didn’t include Disney, so if I happened to be lucky enough to find out from a cousin or classmate that Disney was ready and waiting on channel 74, oh man what fun would ensue. Hopefully, the Race to Witch Mountain would be on so I could fantasize about being a warlock (gay I know) or even better The Little Mermaid TV series so I could fantasize about tagging along as Ariel’s little merman cousin. It got gayer.

Or while growing up, how you showed me the struggles of teen hood via Boston Public and gave my sister her first opportunity to talk about gay people with me, how she wondered what it must feel like to hide something so profound about yourself, and how you’d know when you found a person you could open up to. It was her way of telling me, I would always be loved no matter what.

You weren’t always so great for me. Eventually, we became a little codependent like many of the relationships in my life. I couldn’t get enough of you. You were intoxicating. I abhorred summer for its lack of quality programming. In high school, on school nights, I couldn’t wait to turn off all the lights, climb in bed and watch Untucked on MTV — titillated by the very idea of seeing two very shirtless, very sexy dudes get it on in a dorm room or basement apartment. You kept me up late absorbing all the wisdom that 2 loony psychologist brothers and three widows and a divorcee could offer a blossoming homosexual. Or in college, when I would stay up watching Text Me TV for no apparent reason other than I was in need of zapping some brain cells.

You’ve change so much since I’ve known you. Where once you were antennas and basic cable and an occasional video game, you are now that and Netflix and Amazon Prime. Where you were once Roseanne and My Brother and Me and the Cosby Show, you are now well, still Roseanne, but a lot of other new stuff too.

You are independent dramas. You are emotional and heartfelt comedies. You are terrible cable news cycles. You’ve shown me great triumphs like the 1996 Women’s Gymnastics Olympic Team. (Shout out to Dominique Dawes and Dominique Moceanu!) You introduced me to Will & Grace, to this day one of the funniest comedies of all time. You were there to show me attacks on the World Trade Center as my world began to expand beyond the small bubble I had known. You brought me close to me late 20s sister as we bonded over Buffy and Angel. You gave me an excuse to have out with friends every week and watch the OC or Real World or the Bachelorette. You showed me our first black President Barack Obama’s inaugural speech, twice!

You are my Friends. You are my Girls. You are my Top Chef. You are my Mad Men. You are not America’s Next Top Model. You are my daily dose of Star Trek wisdom. You are my comfort in a lonely hotel room. You are my means of escaping a world that seems ever-riddled with terrors and problems that are just too big. You an ever-changing and adapting tool for entertainment, fantasy, education, bullshit, and change. And I love you from the bottom of my heart.

Forever yours,

WFH