When Dawson’s Creek first began to invade the hearts of teeny boppers everywhere, I wasn’t old enough to watch it.
I know, I’m a baby. But it’s not like I was 5 or something. I was in the 6th grade, and I begged my mom for at least a week to let me watch it (that’s a long time to beg when you’re 12). She compromised with me, and said she would watch the first episode without me. If she thought it was okay, I could watch it. Long story short, she said no.
I was so angry. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why I couldn’t watch the show. I was 12 after all, practically an adult, right? Wrong. When I watched the first episode as an actual adult, I realized how right she was. For a 12-year-old, it’s COMPLETELY inappropriate. I think they rival ‘Secret Life of the American Teenager’ (which I flat-out loathe) in the number of times they say the word “sex” per episode. I would’ve made the same call my mom did.
It may have been inappropriate for me then, but for 24-year-old-me, it’s freakin’ crack.
About a month and a half ago (after seeing random episodes throughout the years, including half of the series finale), I decided it was time to cozy up and watch every episode of Dawson’s Creek. I have this weird TV habit. I find a show that’s been on for awhile, and then watch it almost non-stop via Netflix or Hulu until I’m either finished or caught up with the current season. In the past 2 years I’ve done it with Bones, Buffy, Doctor Who, 30 Rock, Community, and now Dawson’s Creek.
I officially finished it on Sunday. Now that I’ve soaked in all that Capeside has to offer me, I’ve come to a very important conclusion: I both love and hate Dawson’s Creek. Continue reading
Adorably Caffeinated 