Doctor Who

So, although I am a Doctor Who fan, I shut off my cable over a year ago and so missed out on the last episodes of David Tennant as the Doctor. At the time, I was ok with it, I mean, I really wasn’t watching much TV anyway, way too much going on with classes and practicum and all that.

I watched a couple of the specials when I was at my mom’s (not like a family event – she has comcast on demand). Speaking of family events, the whole reason I watch Doctor Who is because I used to watch the old ones with my dad. I loved watching them with him. I think I didn’t like them as much as he did at the time, but I loved that we watched together.

When the new series started up in 2005, my then-partner and I watched it faithfully every week. We both remembered bits from the original shows and recognized the old enemies of the Doctor. I enjoyed Eccleston and was even a bit disappointed when he regenerated. At first, I thought David Tennant was a touch goofy, and too clean cut for my taste.

After just a couple of episodes, though…I was a Tennant fan. I loved his goofy presentation and found I hardly missed Eccleston at all. So, missing those last episodes of David Tennant as the doctor was really ok with me. I kind of wanted him to stay the doctor, at least in my mind.

About a month ago, the final episodes became available at the library (I had been on a several hundred person waiting list) and so I watched The Waters of Mars – a bit disgusting, but still, good stuff. Last week, the final two episodes came (almost like I’d planned it). I watched it till almost the end, and then headed out dancing. I thought I knew what was coming, just a bit of wrap up.

What was left, however, was the doctor making the rounds. As he did so, my memory was poked and prodded, and I started thinking about my ex, and how much fun we had watching those episodes. I thought about the time now gone, and how those memories are tied to that relationship – the way music gets attached to memories, how certain songs can prompt a visceral memory (to this day, We Built This City provokes a strong memory of washing dishes at my first full-time job).

The memory from the song is strong, and makes me feel a bit nostalgic, but nothing like the wave of depression that swept over me as I watched those last 15 minutes or so. No one I know cares one whit about Doctor Who – I remember I even wrote an email to my ex while watching The Next Doctor at my mom’s – I was dying to share that with him – to laugh together when they said “Allon-sey!”

No, I am not hoping to patch up that relationship. It is complete. Done. Over. And most of the time I am ok with that. I mean, hey, an hour before I was out dancing with wonderful women at Twilight, right? I was inviting people to breakfast! But that time, wasted, those memories, all tied up in the past, that really got to me. I don’t want to start over, build new memories, make new connections. I am lonely for a bit of continuity. Someone who knew my dad. Someone who knew my old dog. I don’t remember feeling this way in the past…


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