Misty-eyed by Warren Zevon’s “Keep Me in Your Heart”, I lay prone on my bed for around 20 minutes before falling asleep for eight hours, waking up at 9pm. I went about the next 48 hours in a state of ennui.
Binge-watching TV is akin to any other psychological habit; it fills some void in your heart you don’t know how to fill otherwise. If you’ve never binged a show, trust that it releases dopamine the same way that eating junk food, shopping online, or drinking coffee does. And the withdrawal is real.
I miss House! I miss Wilson and I miss Chase and Cameron and everyone!
It really feels like a breakup. I came home to Greg House every night. We laughed together, we cried together, and we got some important life lessons along the way. And seemingly in a heartbeat, he was gone. There’s an empty spot in my bed– where my computer used to sit, autoplaying episode after episode of this impeccable black comedy. And I miss it.
A few months ago, I finished Veep (I have a thing for Hugh Laurie, can you tell?) and it left me with a similar languor… but the one I feel now is more profound. I guess the thing about Veep is that it’s so elaborately written that I’ve started it 3 times with different people and every time I rewatch an episode, I catch a joke I missed the time before. So I can keep laughing at and with Selina amid all of D.C.’s antics.
On the other hand, House really tugged at my heartstrings. It would be hard to start again, knowing the fate of each friendship, the outcome of each decision. The love I felt for these characters was, and is, so real.
And that’s crazy, right?! They’re fictional entities that live within the confines of a Word document on someone’s 2006 Macbook Pro. Robert Chase isn’t real. Allison Cameron isn’t real. James Wilson isn’t real!
…though, Robert Sean Leonard has held a special place in my heart since I watched Dead Poets Society in 7th grade and fell in love with Neil Perry. But that’s beside the point.
177 episodes, with an average length of 44 minutes. I spent nearly 130 hours with these people. They fell in and out of love. Friendships began and ended. A bunch of people died. And I gave it all my undivided attention.
I compiled a list of my favorite episodes. I texted my friend (who had already finished the series) every night with updates of where I was and how I was feeling. She and I assembled a game of House Bingo, featuring boxes like “opening intentionally misleads you as to who is sick” and “diagnosing amyloidosis, despite it never being amyloidosis.” And you know what? It was really fun! I haven’t gotten that invested in pop culture in a long time. It feels good to be passionate about something.
I cried when it was over, but I will still smile because it happened.