After a long day of school/work/being existent, there is always one show that you yearn to watch. For me, that show is Gilmore Girls. The following column will be about the relationship between people and comfort television—why do we turn to it, what does it say about us—through the lens of my relationship with my favorite Stars Hollow women.

When some of you read that Gilmore Girls was my favorite television show, you scoffed, others cooed, a few may have actively cheered (for that I salute you), but to those who judge harshly, realize that a person’s relationship to their television show is often deeply personal. Many are embarrassed by the shows they watch, and will give merely a sheepish grin when they name their guilty pleasures, while others parade their favorite show around in a trumpeting choir. Either way you swing it, we all have it: the television show that sometimes serves as our lifeline to sanity. The theme song is soothing, the plot lines are predictably wonderful and the characters seem as much a part of your world as actual people. It’s kind of bothersome to you that a television show can comfort you in the same way that real people can, but you’ve learned to cope.

I have been trying to boil down for months now what it is about Gilmore Girls that makes it so special to me; why do I jump to defend the actions and people of an imaginary town? I started with what I know about the show: Gilmore Girls is defined by its verbosity. They talk, and they talk fast. They reference pop culture every other sentence, and they exchange witticisms like fast-talking fiends. Of course it’s unrealistic, it’s part of the allure. These girls can talk, but they are so much more than that. They are the ultimate mother-daughter relationship, they are women who are trying to figure out their lives, they are women searching for love. The Gilmore way is something to be sought. Can I drink as much coffee as Lorelai today? (Probably not) Can I find my Luke? (Best of luck) Can I have the same ferocity as Rory and follow my dreams at the expense of a relationship with the man I love? (Egads!)

So now we know who the Gilmores are, but the question then becomes, why do we care about them so much? I know what I enjoy on a visceral level: the smart banter, the lovable characters and above all the clairvoyant moments. The time they sleep with the zucchini, the 1,000 yellow daisies, the horoscope Luke kept in his wallet and the moment when Rory and her mom say goodbye as Rory heads to the campaign trail. Another thing that draws me to the show, honestly, is that nothing ever goes all that wrong. Sure, when Lorelai and Rory fought for all that time, we were on the edges of our seats, and sure, we were all upset when Dean cheated on Lindsay with Rory, but come on, we all knew in the end that it would all work out. By the end of each season and episode, they would still be our lovable and zany Gilmore Girls. With a little introspection, I clearly see why I enjoy the show: I want to be as smart as the ladies who can throw zingers faster than anyone I know, I want that sort of relationship with my mom, I want to learn from their experiences with love, and I like a good, old-fashioned, cliché happy ending. The times when I watch it more (you know when you go on comfort-television-watching binges?), I should be on the lookout for what aspect of the Gilmores I am turning to in the moment. And, sure, sometimes it’s just a simple escape, but I think it’s important to analyze what we are escaping from and what we are running to.
All of us should allow in that level of introspection. Our obsessions don’t make us as individuals any less valid, but they should be analyzed so that we can decipher why we turn to them. We should be honest with ourselves, because feeling guilty for having guilty pleasures is irrational. I feel like this column has become a confession above all else. I raise the white flag, I secede to Stars Hollow; it has won me over. Here is what I hope you, dear reader, take away from this column: why are we drawn to the shows we are drawn to, and why do we feel ashamed to admit it?

Do any of you have obsession shows you’d like to admit? Let’s relish in our comfort shows for a moment, and tell me what you think it says about you. Maybe it says nothing at all, but either way, I’d love to hear your thoughts.