The L Word

I've been watching the L Word on DVD. It's awful. First, it's soft-core lesbian porn, which raises the lingerie debate, which is, does one prefer to be teased, or does one want to cut straight to the uncensored version? I've never been good at answering that debate. In fact, I prefer to have it answered for me. Which the L Word does. Which leaves me wanting more but regretting when I get it. Second, everyone on the show is hot -- their entire community is hot: the taxi drivers, the anonymous extra coughing in the background, everybody. It makes me wonder how I wound up in such an ugly place. But even that's not the awful part. That's standard Hollywood, only here it's amplified by an all-female, dominantly lesbian cast of characters. Also not the awful part is that one of the actresses, in a broad-brushed sort of way, reminds me of Emily. She humps people and I'm inside a cement mixer. But even that's not the worst of it. The worst, most awful part of the show is how easily people move from relationship to relationship. Pain dies and new love blooms so quickly for these people. And I wonder about the relationship between life and art. Is this unbelievable, or is this how everyone but me functions? Is the audience suspending its disbelief for the sake of drama, or do they see an accurate reflection of their own lives? Am I the alien in the audience, or are the aliens on screen? I have know idea. All I know for sure is that I'm not the only one who likes to watch soft-core lesbian porn.