I used to love that crap. All of my favorite shows over the years have employed this tactic in some form or another, either romantic or platonic, and I thrived on it. Would Joey ever see the way Pacey loved her from the sidelines and realize he was the one for her? Would Bones and Booth get their act together on the job enough to start something away from it? Would Luke and Lorelai ever get their timing right? Would Sam and Dean ever put actions to their words and trust each other the way they kept insisting they did? These were the kind of screen relationships that kept me coming back for more. It was like media crack. But then, as life would have it, I went and turned thirty. The irony here does not allude me. The premise is a simple one: two high school best friends played again by Shum Jr and Grannis make a pact to marry each other at thirty, should they be single. Chance then takes the form of fate when an online party invite finds itself with the hilariously pragmatic Lisa Manon Mathews who is newly reunited life-buds with Joanna, who happens to have moved back home indefinitely and decides to surprise Peter by making an appearance. The first two episodes went hand in hand by introducing our main gang and putting their pawns on the chessboard. Aside from a host of wonderfully quirky, authentic supporting characters, series premiere Too Fast, Too Thirteous acquainted me most prominently with Peter, the typical nice guy with the big heart. Therein lay the biggest obstacle to this nearly-there romance. I buckled in for the long haul. Getting these two together was going to be one hell of a mission. I wanted to like this series. I wanted to watch it through to the end, happy sigh, tick it off my extensive to-watch list and move on with my life. I dug it, just not for the reasons one might expect. The secondary cast stole the show. Lisa Mathews is my spirit animal. I am neither married nor pregnant nor planning on either anytime soon, but she is my inner voice in human form, and I loved her. I found myself constantly nodding and throwing my hands up in praise whenever someone warned Joanna about her ambiguous intentions, or Peter about his spinelessness. I was in full support of their relationship before it got there, wanting the best for these two people because they were the characters I was supposed to rally behind. But after the fact, I found myself becoming wary. I felt like she needed it. I was overjoyed to watch Peter state clearly for the record what he wanted, and I was satisfied when he walked away. As for Joanna, she got the raw end of the deal with me. So imagine my thirty year old upset when Peter went and did to someone else what Joanna had done to him. At that point, I was ready to throw in the towel. I remained watching for Mark and Chloe, and Lisa and her adorable husband to see how their stories finished. In fact, all of it felt very down to earth, organic, a little jaded — real, like me. The only thing I can really blame is the fact that I have grown up, and my crack of choice is now seeing two characters trust, respect, commit, communicate and put the yards in together to make it work. My frustration in the show rested in how close to home it was, in the emotions, I was forced to face, which means that Wong Fu Productions ultimately did what they intended — they told a relatable story with characters capable of making me laugh and cry and scream until I was blue in the face. I hope they know I loved the show for the messy, hopeful, hope less, quirky, real story it was, even though it slowly drained away my will to live. Thank you for the laughs, thank you for the tears, thank you for making me feel and think and ponder.
