Confessions of a Suburban Househusband: Pt. 2

I laughed along with them. I cried with them. I admired their strength and stories. I often wanted to be invited to a party and have the biggest gift have been from me and write in the card attached saying “Thank you for being a friend.”

And that was okay; that was accepted. But I never expected we would become addicts.

When a couple first moves in together, as The Boyfriend and I have recently done, it takes some time to settle in. You find your groove. The boxes are unpacked, the furniture is in place, and the pictures and art have been hung. Now we’ve settled into our weekly routines of: Monday night is this, Tuesday is this… etc. But there is one common thread as of late. One thing that ties each night to a close…

Almost every night for the past few weeks, The Boyfriend and I have poured a glass of wine (or Brandy, or Port, or Listerine- we're not fussy), put up our feet, grabbed a blanket and popped “The Golden Girls” Complete First Season DVD into the player.

Yes, dear readers, My name is Lance, and I am addicted to a campy mid- 80’s TV show.

Every night.

Without fail.

Just us, slutty Blanche, sarcastic Dorothy, simple Rose and dear straight-talking Sophia Petrillo.

Picture it... Toronto... 2006... Two grown men, in their pyjamas, watching The Golden Girls. Even worse (as if it could be) I have even caught myself, TWICE, watching an episode or two to myself. Oh, the shame of it all.

To all you single girls out there: Be Warned. This is what Suburbia holds for you. Mid-week roast dinners, apartment style laundry, and obsolete Television shows on DVD!

I wouldn’t change it for the world.