I know, I know, I’m very late to the party. I’m so sorry, Ms. Dunham. Sorry, that it took a pandemic for me to finally watch your iconic creation, Girls.

The Lena Dunham series was groundbreaking when it premiered on HBO in 2012. I remember people talking about it all the time at work, at social gatherings, even overhearing conversations about it in coffee shops.

And I guess since I’m a writer and a female I often got asked, Are you watching Girls, Susan? It’s so up your alley. So, peharps because of all the hype and pressure I rebelled. I was defiant. I went out of my way to absolutely NOT watch the series.

That is until 10 days ago when I ran out of things to watch.

During this pandemic I have gone through my Netflix library, Amazon, seasons of Dateline, Holiday Baking Championships, old episodes of the Bachelor, even the worst of the Bravo shows – Below (fucking) Deck! I had run out. Run dry. I needed something… something… something…

Girls… It whispered to me.

You need Girls, honey.

Okay! Fine! Let’s do this!

And so it began. Girls, pilot episode, here we go. Play.

I didn’t leave the couch for 8 hours that night and I have continued to get on that couch every night since. Ignoring my fiancé, eating nuts and Sees chocolate for dinner, paying no mind to when the sun has set and the outdoor lights have gone on.

No, I have been binging like a full on junkie. Every 30 minutes jabbing another needle in my arm wondering what color the Girls logo will be this time. Season to season, bathing in the writing, the acting, the directing, the music, the subjects, the nudity (yes, Lena, you were ahead of your time in every way), the New York streets.

I wanted to go to work and social gathering and coffee shops and join the conversations from 8 years ago about Hannah and Adam and Jessa and Marnie and Shosh and Ray and on and on.

I was even having dreams about the characters. Like, seriously.

Was something wrong with me? Was I avoiding life? Would I ever exercise or eat dinner at a table again?

And then I woke up today for the first time in ages wanting to do something I haven’t been wanting to do at all.


You see, I’ve been in a rut. Not just because 2020 has been a shitshow of mega (and MAGA) proportions. Not just because my heart hurts every single day for the people who have died from Covid, who are unemployed, who are without food, who are relapsing after years of sobriety, who are losing their businesses, missing out on school, fighting in the streets, hating on social media, and on and on…

But I was in a personal, creative, quiet rut. The kind that sneaks up on you and before you know it the light inside of you has blown out and you’re in total darkness.

The loss of passion rut.

Painful. Empty. Asleep. I didn’t know how bad it was.

And then… I discovered Girls.

The pilot light in my oven that is my art flickered. Remembered. Slowly, subtly woke up and spoke.

Oh, yeah… I love to write. I really love to write.

Thank you, Ms. Dunham. Thank you. I thought I was late for the show but it looks like I was right on time.