in high school, it was life goes on. carrie and i watched it religiously and compared notes the following day at the lunch benches. i cried when jesse told becka he had aids.
in college, i never missed an episode of my so-called life. ricky used to watch it with me, poking fun during commercials but shutting up as soon as the episode resumed. when jordan catalano asked angela what was wrong with her, i died inside.
for the past two years, i have been addicted to felicity. a guilty pleasure, i begin to explain, but if you admit to me that you can stand the show, i launch into a frightening state of glee that proves i have more than just slight interest in it. when felicity followed ben to go to school in new york city, i felt like i was getting the chance i never had.
it’s become a tradition for the girls to come over every wednesday night to watch the TV show, eat too much junk food and gossip during commercials. tonight, the WB aired the last episode of felicity, but i spent the evening alone, watching the two-hour special from my bed, alternately stretched out on top of my quilt and sitting cross-legged on the floor, too close to the television.
i did not cry and i did not die, but i did feel as though another era in my life was coming to a close. as the credits rolled, i wondered, who will be my new heroine? what will be the new television reference i insert into every conversation i have? where will i be next wednesday night and the ones to follow?
i don’t know if i can survive. i might have to get cable.