The Grand Paradox of Television: TV Executives want a brand new, original, off the wall (and hopefully edgy) idea based on an established idea that they know will work.

It's true. Think about it. All of your favorite shows are pitched that way. Roddenberry pitched 'Star Trek' as a "Wagon Train to the stars." The X-Files? A combination of the tired old TV cop show formula combined with 'The Twilight Zone.' There are many more examples. This concept becomes clear when you sit and think about existing shows. All successful TV shows now are the combination of two provenly effective genres, or, at the very least, an old idea presented with a fresh twist.

Speaking of combinations of the old and the new, Betty stopped by last night while Sally was over. Sal and I were sitting in bed, not doing anything lurid, mind you, just watching Law & Order. I was so incredibly tired. I was at that state of fatigue where the most comfortable thing in the world is just to sit there and enjoy the intimacy of tangled arms and legs. Body against body, not in a sexual way, just the small softness of flesh against flesh, like an old sweater on a cool evening. I could have, and would have, stayed that way all night. But then the doorbell rang.

I was expecting that. Actually, I was expecting a phone call. See, Betty now lives in the suburbs since she has moved back, but, on Monday nights, she is in the city taking a dance class. If she were just a bit more considerate, she would have called first. However, just as L&O was building up to it's last fifteen minutes of climax, my doorbell rings. First, I wanted to ignore it. Sally said "But your lights are on." I decided that if it rang again, I would answer the door. Just as I was explaining this plan to Sal, the bell rang again, cutting me off in mid-sentence. I went to the door, and pressed the button that allowed my visitor to be buzzed in. I looked through my eye-thingy in the door, hoping against hope. Betty. I opened the door. She saw Sally. An awkward moment as she offered to leave and I invited her inside. She took me up on my offer, either not caring or not realizing that I was only being polite.

So, the three of us just sat in stilted silence, under the auspices of finishing the episode, Sal and I on the bed, Betty on the couch. At L&O's conclusion, we launched into the small-talk ritual. The whole affair happened in a strange sort of slow-motion, all of us high on the mind altering effects of embarrasment. Betty, for having to see her ex and his new girlfriend. Sally, for being reminded of an unpleasant figure from my past, and me, because I was stuck between the two, refereeing the event, engineering it towards a polite meaninglessness.

Finally, Sally left. I walked her to her car, offering platitudes and regrets. She said she didn't like it that Betty stopped by like that, and I honestly had to agree. I preferred the scenario that would have ended in kisses and unhurried good-nights. As I walked Sal, Betty took the opportunity to go to her car for cigarettes. Fine. Damn it. I came back, and we went inside. Despite earlier events, the conversation was actually pleasant. It benefitted my attitude toward her when she gave me high praise for a multimedia project I've been writing. She knew how to gain my favor; her flattery of me saved her from my resentment for dropping by so abruptly.

We watched The Simpsons together. It started to rain, heavily. Thunder was setting off car alarms. She didn't want to drive in the weather, and I couldn't blame her. Betty stayed for half of Letterman (what does it say about me that I mark the passing of time by referring to television?) and finally left. I gave her my jacket as we ran down the street to her car, resulting in my getting soaked. Finally, she was gone. I went back inside, called Sally (who, in her cute way, got a report on the rest of the evening by asking whether I "had fun with my girlfriend.") and said some proper, yawning good-nights.

I think I might take Sally out next Monday night.

I'm hungry for some feedback already. Let's be friends, people!