So MJ and I have been doing some fangirl squeeing about Doctor Who – mostly about the tenth Doctor, portrayed by David Tennant. Or David Ten-Inch, apparently. (OOF.) What does this have to do with sex/relationships? Hang on, I’ll try to make sense. (Unless you’ve never seen Doctor Who before and could not find two shits to give about it or about any television program. If that’s you, I’m so, so sorry.)
I’ll allons-y with you any day, Time Lord.
I watched two episodes last night before bed. I intended to watch only one, but the first one ended in a cliffhanger and hell, I’d had a can of Coke at 6:30 pm and no amount of living room yoga can counteract caffeine consumed at that hour. In these episodes, the Doctor and Martha are on the run from some aliens who need to consume a Time Lord in order to continue their lives. The Doctor must become human. So of course, he, as a human, ends up falling in love. He then has to give up being human, give up his love to save the world. It’s so sad.
People LOVE Doctor Who. They fucking obsess over it night and day. (Uh, I’ve heard. Not me, no way! A-hem.) And I think I know why this version of the Doctor connects so well. It’s because he feels alone. He hurts and covers up the pain with jokes and/or immersing himself into a time/place that needs rescuing. I think a hurting world can most definitely relate. I know I can. I spent the bulk of the last 12 months feeling awfully, terribly, excruciatingly alone. But the difference between me, who has a husband, kids, family, friends, a good counselor, and you fine people; & the Doctor, who faces an eternal future alone while the people he cares for come and go, is that I know it’s going to get better. That’s what’s different.
That and also he’s a Time Lord with two hearts that travels through space and time. And apparently has a ten-inch penis.
