Always Cheesy

Grey’s Anatomy is ridiculous, and it works completely when you’re alone with it. The sex, the gore, the perfectly timed soundtrack underneath someone getting cut open or people making out in a closet—I don’t know, something about it lands. I watch it without thinking about whether it’s stupid.

Then a friend shows up and something changes. You’ve made it this far into the evening, the show’s on, you’re settled in and happy with what’s coming. You’re grinning like an idiot at the screen. And then someone walks in.

If you’re lucky they just sit quietly and look bored. If not, you get comments: Is it always this melodramatic? or Does this ever get better? And it doesn’t matter how much you’ve made peace with this show when you’re alone, how aware you are that yeah, some episodes drag or get embarrassing before something stronger comes—you still fold. You find yourself saying it: Yeah, this one’s kind of bad.

So throw them out. Make popcorn. Sit alone with Seattle Grace Hospital and let yourself have all of it—the sex, the blood, the earnestness—until it’s over. That’s the only way this actually works.