This Year's Valentine's Day Mission: Fall in Love with TiVo

I've got to fess up to a couple of things. First off, I didn't watch Bleak House this past weekend, or the weekend before that. I had every intention of watching, and I'm sure it's very respectable, but, to be honest, I forgot that it was on because I had other things to do, like enjoy the sappiness of Grey's Anatomy.

This brings me to my second admission of the day: I'm supposed to be writing about new TV this week, but I'm not. The reason is that, because of my regular shows, and my alarming level of ditziness, I've forgotten to watch any new series. And as appealing as writing a made-up column is, I actually have something more important, and shocking, to bring up.

It's Valentine's Day season, and I don't feel lonely. I'm not quite sure what Valentine's 'season' is, but seeing as stores have been decked out in pink for over a month, and romantic comedy previews have started to use the term, I'm taking it as official notice that the powers-that-be want to make January even more miserable for single people. So, starting with the awkward no-significant-other-to-kiss-at-midnight-so-I-guess-it's-time-to-plant-one-on-the-nice-man-behind-the-bar moment on Dec. 31, right up until the last cupid comes down from the Rite Aid windows on Feb. 15, anyone who is not in a relationship has little choice other than to just endure six weeks of couple-supremacy and focus on big, shiny distractions like the Super Bowl.

With just under two weeks to go before the heart-filled day, I've been waiting for that usual abysmal feeling of despair to start creeping into my stomach. But, as of yet, it hasn't, and that has nothing to do with lifestyle. I'm so far from being in a relationship right now it's ridiculous, my roommate and her boyfriend are doing their best to take the prize for "world's happiest couple," and an abnormal percentage of my friends seem to be coupled off. Given everything, I should be hunkered down with a pint of Ben and Jerry's, drinking straight from a bottle of Jack, and sobbing while watching something appropriate like Bridget Jones's Diary.

Something's going on, and I'm fearful that the real reason I'm okay is because, well, I'm kind of dating a whole bunch of TV shows. With Gilmore Girls, Project Runway, Grey's Anatomy, Boston Legal, and plenty of others, I've been a busy girl.

I'm not saying that I'm obsessed with the guys on the shows I watch, although I would date Logan Huntzberger or Dr. Shepherd in a second. And it could be nice not to date the Project Runway men, but just to have a harem of designer boys to go shopping with and to commission dresses from on a weekly basis. And there is something to be said about the idea of the TV boyfriend: unlike in a movie, you don't just spend two hours with him and then walk out of the theater and realize that, no, Gael García Bernal really is just on the screen. With the TV star, you get to see him week after week in your living room, allowing him to slip into your psyche unnoticed. But no, it's really more simplistic than that: I've resorted to regularly-scheduled programming for my emotional well-being.

It obviously isn't ideal: I mean, it's a little hard to make a connection with an appliance. But while the shows may not have, say, a corporeal form, they more than make up for it in their ability to completely support me emotionally, which is more than I can say about any boyfriend. Grey's Anatomy and Gilmore Girls must be listening to my problems, because they spout them right back through some characters and provide advice through others. The OC keeps up with my pop culture ramblings. Boston Legal and Scrubs always know how to make me laugh. And Project Runway lets me shout nonsense at it every week, manages to keep me surprised, and-as of yet, at least-doesn't ever let me down by making a bad decision. Most importantly, at least one of my shows, or a rerun, can be found whenever I need a break from life. With consistency and constancy like that, why would I ever leave these shows behind?

This relationship comes down to the very nature of TV. I go to the movies for escapism, and I listen to music in order to fill in the gaps everyday life produces, either in the most fundamental sense (I don't like silence, and I don't like to dance around like a fool unless I have a good beat) and in the more abstract sense (I'm quite happy to have songwriters answer questions of life and love using couplings of lyrics and melody). With TV, it's a little of both. TV's there for me, so as the battle for time slots starts up once again, I'm starting to feel obligated to stick by my shows.

So, to the creators of Bleak House and others like Love Monkey: I'm sorry, I'm flattered by the offer, you seem really great and I'm sure there's an audience waiting for you to find them, but, this February, I'm seeing someone else.

Ciel Hunter is a Columbia College senior majoring in English.