“I thought about you the whole time, I promise”
We started this soiree back in April of 2012 when Lena Dunham first introduced Girls to the public. Spooning on a 1970’s era felt couch I never experienced being more at home than those days with Naomi. We had known each other for years, but we didn’t really know each other until we started watching Girls. It became a routine of spoon-feeding each other freshly baked Funfetti cake, giggling, crying, and spooning on Sunday nights. We were new roommates, and Girls brought an exciting dimension to our relationship.
But things change. People change. People have to move on. Episodes turn into a season, and a season turns into seasons. My beloved Nay left Chicago for the West, just as people had to watch loved ones leave on the Oregon Trail for new horizons, I watched Nay settle in LA. I moved too. Settling in Poland from our little nest in Chi Town. Things Change.
I made a promise to myself, no matter where I ended up, with whoever I would end up with, Girls would remain a Naomi and Rose endeavor. Watching Girls on that felt covered couch instilled a tradition I wanted to last a lifetime. I vowed that when the third season came out, I would find a way to make it to another couch, to Naomi’s couch, to watch the season just like we did before life happened.
I made it three weeks into the third season of ignoring reviews, ignoring blog posts, ignoring conversations and tweets relevant to the phenomena. But damnit, I was not strong enough. Late in the night, nearing the blinking hours of early morn, I succumbed. I broke down. I heard Jenna was in rehab and I needed to know and I needed to know then. I don’t have any excuses, I do, however have deeply haunting guilt. HBO GO soothed my anxieties, calming me into a few clicks until the brilliant Dunham creation splashed across the screen.
Naomi, I thought of you the entire time.
When I laughed, knots twisted in my intestines. When my eyes became heavy with wet salty tears, a wispy ghost squeezed my hand to calm me. Naomi, I felt you there. Around 4 AM I broke down. Pausing the show was one of the hardest things I did in those two hours, but I managed to do it. Shamefully, I sent the text “Hey! Are you watching Girls?” In my heart, I knew she probably was, nestled into some other person’s couch. Laughing and crying, just like we once had.
She didn’t text me back.
I heard through a third party source, her boyfriend, my brother, that Nay was watching Girls. But Nay and I, even when apart feel the eternal stronghold Girls has on relationships: she watched it alone, just like me in the depths of that guilt stricken evening. I told my brother to pass through the grapevines that I had thought about her, the whole time.
I like to think she thought about me too.
Now, I don’t know if I will watch the next episode coming this Sunday. But the likelihood is high. The Girls pheromone transmits at a frequency too high for anyone of sane mind to deny. All I know, is that I’m gonna call that girl, Naomi, and ask her to maybe Skype me. So despite the physical distance separating us, we can still be together, nearly back snugging on that felt couch like all those years ago.
We can do this.