So I’ve been watching Doctor Who.
But there must be stronger words to describe what I’ve actually been doing. Because it’s more like I married a fictional character and now I have a new last name, and I have to go into work and go about normal life when really everyone should be giving me presents. I have a whole new emotional register now! And in the words of new personal life hero David Tennant, “the thing about Doctor Who is that it’s very hard to explain without sounding like a lunatic.” But all I want to do is talk about it.
I started watching months ago, actually. But I was moving to New York and looking for jobs and marathoning other shows simultaneously and anyway, I started with season one of the reboot, which didn’t grab me. I can of course see now that these excuses are totally worthless because the Doctor is the only thing that matters, but I didn’t know that yet. So I made my way through the Ninth Doctor gradually, with a healthy amount of emotional distance. I was still a stable human being.
And then David Tennant roared “I DON’T KNOW” in his pajamas, and I was smitten. Five minutes later, he quoted The Lion King, and I pledged him my life.
We hit critical mass two weeks ago, when I finally made time for a proper marathon and it all sank in. I am deeply, madly, hopelessly in love with a fictional 900-year-old Time Lord. He wears converse sneakers and a pinstripe suit and his hair is full of secrets. He looks dashing in glasses. His hugs are the stuff of paper cuts. He’s very clever. This is his smile.
No seriously, this is just how his face works all the time.
It’s the most expressive face on this or any planet.
Bonus points for his sophistication.
The Doctor also happens to be rude, not ginger, and a total badass. His voice is all shivery with pure joy and righteous indignation, and the way he says “ALLONS-Y” is the only way I want to live my life.
I love how much the Doctor loves people. He can travel through space and time and he still thinks everyone he meets is important. He never gets to stay with them. He outlives everyone he cares about. He endangers all of his companions. But he can’t stop loving people and calling them brilliant and sometimes letting them into the TARDIS, because he knows that it’s worth it to let them in. The Doctor needs his companions. They make him better.
I don’t care that the aliens sometimes look ridiculous, because the way he looks at Rose Tyler is more important. I don’t even care that I’m watching a show about aliens in the first place, so long as Donna Noble gets to sass them. What I do care about is the way I couldn’t bring myself to sleep at 3:30 am on a Saturday because I’d finished Ten’s last episode and was too busy thinking about life. (I go hard every weekend, you guys.) I can’t stop googling pictures of David Tennant’s stupid face. I missed a subway stop the other day just because I was thinking about him. I listen to the soundtrack when I wash dishes. “I’m Gonna Be” now makes me kind of squeaky. Don’t even let me on YouTube.
I’m into the Matt Smith era now and still kind of feeling like I’ll never find love again. I really like him, and I know I’ll like him even more as I go, but Tennant will probably always be my Doctor. So basically, I married a fictional character and then lost him all in the same week. But that’s cool. The Doctor is all about accepting things that are temporary and embracing them anyway.
Plus, LOOK AT HIM.
So that’s what I’ve been up to lately. If you’re down to completely lose your composure and change the way you live your life, I highly recommend it.