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My Bromance With Hank Moody

A few months ago, I watched the Showtime series Californication for the first time, even though it first aired a few years ago (2007?), about a fictional novelist named Hank Moody and his trials and tribulations, his quest to win back his Baby Mama and their teenage daughter. I first heard about the show on a Youtube video regarding Alpha behavior as depicted in TV and the movies, so I was intrigued. I was hooked immediately. There, on TV, was a fantastical depiction of my life and relationship with the Mamacita, minus the Porche, accidental sex with a minor, and the warm balmy weather of Southern California, but including a lot of drinking, pot smoking, threesomes and my fair share of self loathing.

You see, I have my own Karen (Hank’s Ex and Baby Mama) and my own Becca (daughter), and like Hank, I had my family “stolen” by a Beta Chump with more money than me, who made promises of marriage and a large brand new house, things I scoffed at. And like Hank, I won her back and rescued my Baby Mama from a boring and disenchanted life on Wisteria Lane, to have our relationship fall apart once again, followed by several temporary reconciliations. My Karen even looks like the fictional Karen, and my relationship with my daughter closely mirrors the closeness between Hank and Becca.  I watched every episode of the first three seasons several times, reveling in every lay Hanks achieves, and bumming out over every misunderstanding, mishap and scapegoating our hero has to endure. I was addicted in the same way a crackhead enjoys the euphoria of the hit and the pain of withdrawal as the euphoria morphs into disillusionment and despair. I was in awe with the fact the show depicted just about every argument, interaction and discussion I ever had with my Karen. I turned my ex onto the show, and she became hooked too, having closely identified with her TV counterpart.

It dawned on me that I was reliving my last ten years over and over again, which is something I had vowed to no longer do because if your obssessed with the past, you can’t enjoy the present or plan for the future. I also realized, for all of Hank Moody’s alpha-tude with getting hot skanks in the sack, he was also a chump who placed his ex on a pedestal and absolved her of all accountability, permitting himself to be blamed and scapegoated for every mishap. Hank, I love you man. Thank you for reminding me how to be cool and pick up chicks, but your White Knighting is lame and we can no longer be friends…


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