My Love Letter to 2000s Network Television

As I sit in my cramped apartment, surrounded by the unbridled chaos of unpaid bills, constantly checking my phone to see if “Julia,” the latest messy situation I’ve gotten myself into, has answered any of my embarrassingly numerous consecutive texts, I find myself yearning for an escape. But rather than confront these absolutely terrifying facts of life head-on, I’ve discovered a foolproof method of avoidance: rewatching my favorite early 2000s TV shows.

In times of stress and uncertainty (how badly would you beat me up if I still called these times “unprecedented”?), there’s something incredibly therapeutic about immersing yourself in the familiar comfort of old TV shows. It’s like slipping into your favorite worn-out sweatshirt that you stole from your ex whose last name you’re not actually sure you remember and feeling instantly at ease. These shows, with their dated fashion trends, now-vintage pop culture references, and occasional sprinkles of racism and misogyny that makes your skill crawl, provide a much-needed escape from the pressures of modern life.

But it’s not just about escapism. Rewatching these early 2000s gems is a form of self-care, a way to reconnect with a simpler time and a more carefree version of ourselves. And dude, if you do it right, it’s so much cheaper than therapy. I mean still go to therapy. But if you play your cards right, you can watch damn near 10,000 hours of television for nearly nothing. I’m still using my roommate’s Disney+ account and I haven’t lived with them for almost two years. But it’s okay because they’re on my Hulu (well actually my parents’ Hulu but you get the idea). As we follow the trials and tribulations of our favorite characters, we find solace in their struggles and triumphs. We’re reminded that, no matter how overwhelming life may seem, we’ve overcome challenges before and will continue to do so.

In a world that often feels chaotic and unpredictable, these shows offer a sense of stability and familiarity. We know every plot twist, every punchline, and every heartfelt moment. I am so tried of surprises, you have no idea. Well of course you do. You’re a human being living in this god awful year 202_. There’s a certain comfort in that predictability, in knowing that, no matter what happens in our own lives, these characters will always be there, frozen in time, ready to welcome us back with open arms. Sure, sometimes they might be poorly written, poorly filmed, and poorly acted, but I’ll be damned if they aren’t the one constant in my life. And let’s be real, sometimes it’s just nice to watch gorgeous people whose lives are even more of a shit show than your own. Sure, I may be drowning in student loan debt that I haven’t paid in seven months (seriously…is the government going to say anything about that or am I like…good?) and questioning every life choice I’ve ever made, but at least I’m not Marissa Cooper, who seems to attract drama like shit attracts paperclips, or whatever the expression is. 

So, as I navigate the stresses of being an actual independent human being out in the world– the impending sense of doom that comes with each new political headline that I try to ignore, the constant pressure from every single direction to have it all figured out, and the nagging feeling that everyone else is more successful than me (seriously, do you guys have like 40 hours in the day, what the hell is going on?) – I find solace in the healing power of nostalgia television. And with that, I press play on another episode of Gilmore Girls, ready to lose myself in the fast-talking, coffee-fueled world of Stars Hollow. Because sometimes, the best therapy is the kind that comes with a side of pop culture references and a heaping dose of early 2000s fashion. And did I mention it’s free? (If you steal it) 

So here are some recommendations if you’re unsure of what to (re)watch.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Slaying My Real-Life Demons

When the weight of the navigating the post(?)-pandemic dating scene gets to be too much (and let’s be real, it was pretty terrible long before the world broke), I turn to the ultimate demon-slaying hero, Buffy Summers. As I watch her navigate the perils of high school cliques, teenage romance, and the occasional apocalypse, my own problems seem to fade into the background. Sure, I may be casually drowning in capitalist sludge but at least I’m not tasked with saving the world from literal demons and vampires. And can you believe she did it while wearing low-rise jeans? I swear to God if those actually make a comeback, you will be hearing from the lawyer that I definitely have.  

There’s something oddly comforting about watching Buffy and her friends face the end of the world on a weekly basis. It puts things into perspective, you know? Like, sure, I may have paid my rent late four months in a row. It’s not because I didn’t have the money, I literally just forgot. Sorry, Jeff, I just don’t think about you that way. But hey, at least I’m not having to sacrifice my love life for the greater good of humanity. And yeah, I went on three tinder dates this month just because I didn’t feel like cooking and wanted a free meal (but I didn’t sleep with them so it’s not sex work and even if it was, there’s not a damn thing wrong with that, you fascist), but at least I’m not having to balance homework with slaying vampires and preventing the apocalypse.

Buffy’s world may be filled with darkness and danger, but there’s a certain comfort in knowing that no matter how bleak things seem, she and her friends will always find a way to save the day. And if Buffy can do it while rocking some seriously questionable ’90s fashion choices (my lawyer is on standby, kids), then surely I can find a way to navigate the challenges of adulthood without completely losing my mind (though I make no promises when it comes to the questionable fashion choices).

Gilmore Girls: A Caffeinated Escape

Picture this: it’s 2 AM, and I’m elbow-deep in a pint of over-priced, freezer burnt Ben & Jerry’s that I bought from the bodega, scrutinizing how I managed to screw up yet another potential relationship. Enter Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, the fast-talking, coffee-chugging duo who make even the most stressful situations seem manageable with their quick wit and obscure references. They are not perfect, they are not always helpful, they are definitely not real, but they are always there to talk me through a difficult situation. As I watch them navigate the ups and downs of life in Stars Hollow, I can’t help but feel a sense of comfort wash over me. Sure, my problems may not involve a love triangle with a diner owner and a coffee shop entrepreneur, but the Gilmores remind me that no matter how much life (or love) throws at you, there’s always room for a good laugh and a cup (or seven) of coffee.

Screw it. Speaking of love, let’s talk about my latest romantic endeavor, shall we? Enter “Julia,” the girl who I’ve been texting on and off for the past three weeks, analyzing every emoji and exclamation point like it’s the goddamn Da Vinci Code. I know, I know, I’m bordering on being about as clingy as Kirk when he’s trying to win over Lulu, but what can I say? I’m a sucker for a girl with big brown eyes who laughs at my jokes and shares my love of obscure ’90s bands (even if she thinks Hootie and the Blowfish is obscure, bless her heart).

But here’s the thing: watching Lorelai and Rory navigate their own romantic ups and downs reminds me that I’m not alone in my struggles. Lorelai may have a thing for emotionally unavailable men (looking at you, Christopher), and Rory may have a habit of falling for guys who are all wrong for her (ahem, Logan), but they never let their relationship drama define them (looking at you, girl avoiding eye contact in the mirror). They pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and move on to the next adventure, whether it’s opening a new inn or running for student body president.

So, when I find myself obsessing over whether or not to double-triple-quadruple-text Julia (because apparently, I’ve regressed to my teenage self), I channel my inner Lorelai and remind myself that there’s more to life than waiting for a text back. I’ve got dreams to chase, coffee to drink, and a whole world of pop culture references to explore. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll find my own Luke Danes, a partner who appreciates my quirks and keeps me grounded (and caffeinated). But until then, I’ve got the Gilmore girls to keep me company, and honestly, I couldn’t ask for better role models. 

Where’s My Central Perk? 

When the daily grind of life starts to wear me down, and I find myself longing for the simpler times of coffee shop hangouts and rent-controlled apartments, I turn to my old friends from Central Perk. Rachel, Ross, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe have been there for me through thick and thin, offering a much-needed escape from the harsh realities of the modern world.

But as I sit here, alone in my apartment with only my cats as the only real constant in my life, I can’t help but feel a sense of bitterness toward the corporate greed and capitalistic systems that have fostered a generation of lonely, disconnected individuals. The world of Friends, with its tight-knit community and affordable living situations, feels more and more like a distant fantasy with each passing year.

In a society that prioritizes profit over people, the concept of “third spaces” – those beloved hangouts like Central Perk – is becoming increasingly rare. We paved paradise and put up a Santander. Coffee shops and cafes are being replaced by banks, soulless chains, or empty storefronts always promising development, while local bars and restaurants are being priced out by skyrocketing rents. The places where we once gathered to forge connections and build communities are disappearing, leaving us with fewer opportunities to connect with others.

And let’s not forget the ever-increasing cost of living, which has created a generation of transient twenty-somethings, constantly on the move in search of affordable housing and stable job opportunities. How are we supposed to build lasting friendships when we’re always saying goodbye? Frankly, I’ve just stopped trying. 

It’s no wonder that so many of us turn to TV shows like Friends for comfort and escapism. In a world where genuine human connection feels increasingly out of reach, we seek solace in the familiar faces and laugh tracks of our favorite sitcoms. We long for the kind of deep, meaningful friendships that the show depicts, even as we recognize how unrealistic they may be.

But here’s the thing: we can’t let the pursuit of profit continue to erode the very things that make us human. We need to fight back against the systems that prioritize money over people, and work to create a world where genuine connection and community are valued above all else.

Maybe that means supporting local businesses and fighting for affordable housing. Maybe it means creating our own “third spaces,” even if they look different from the ones we see on TV. Or maybe it just means reaching out to the people in our lives, and reminding them that they matter to us, no matter how far apart we may be.

Because at the end of the day, that’s what Friends is really about: the power of human connection, and the way it can help us weather even the toughest of times. And in a world that seems hellbent on keeping us apart, that message feels more important than ever.

So here I am, a single woman sitting alone in her apartment, watching TV with her cats. But I know that I’m not really alone, because I have the love and support of the people who matter most to me. I have my friends from college, I have my friends online, I have this little column that I contribute to whenever I feel like so I can at least feel like an old man yelling at a cloud. And that’s something that no amount of corporate greed or capitalistic bullshit can ever take away.

Conclusion

As I sit here, surrounded by the comforting glow of my laptop screen, I can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the early 2000s TV shows that have been my constant companions through the ups and downs of adulthood. In a world that often feels cold, unforgiving, and increasingly isolated, these nostalgic gems have provided me with a much-needed escape and a reminder of the power of human connection.

From the demon-slaying heroics of Buffy to the quick-witted banter of the Gilmore Girls, these shows have taught me valuable lessons about perseverance, friendship, and the importance of chasing your dreams. They’ve been there for me through breakups, job losses, and countless other challenges, offering a comforting sense of familiarity and a reminder that I’m not alone in my struggles.

But more than that, these shows have served as a catalyst for self-reflection and growth. They’ve inspired me to be braver, kinder, and more authentic in my own life, even when the world around me seems to be crumbling. They’ve reminded me that it’s okay to make mistakes, to be vulnerable, and to lean on the people who matter most.

So, to all the early 2000s TV shows that have been my rock through the turbulent waters of adulthood, I say thank you. Thank you for the laughter, the tears, and the countless hours of comfort and companionship. Thank you for reminding me that, no matter how bleak things may seem, there’s always hope to be found in the power of storytelling and human connection.

And to all my fellow twenty-somethings out there, navigating the challenges of adulthood in an increasingly uncertain world, I say this: keep holding on to the things that bring you joy, the things that remind you of who you are and what you stand for. Whether it’s a beloved TV show, a cherished friendship, or a secret dream that keeps you going, hold onto it with all your might. Because in the end, it’s those things – the things that make us feel seen, heard, and understood – that will carry us through even the darkest of times.

So go ahead, press play on that next episode of Buffy or Gilmore Girls. Let yourself get lost in the familiar comfort of Stars Hollow or Sunnydale. And remember, no matter how lost or alone you may feel, you’ve got a whole gang of early 2000s TV friends waiting to welcome you back with open arms (and maybe even a few outdated pop culture references). Trust me, it’s the best therapy money can’t buy.