Girls (2012–2017)

The fifth season of HBO’s Girls is airing later this month. I’m devastated that it will be the penultimate season…it feels like I’m on the brink of losing some really close friends.

The first season of Girls premiered in spring 2012, when I moved back to New York City for my first job. The four girls were also recent graduates from liberal arts colleges striking out anew in my city.

I grew up in the boroughs, and could name all the stations on (almost) every single subway line. When I finally moved into a high rise in midtown Manhattan at 22, all I ever saw of the city were through the windows of cab rides home past midnight.

Watching Girls was my drunk and orderly Friday night, sprawled across the bed with laptop open and a glass of cheap wine from the bodega across the street. I lived through them, walking the sidewalks in sunshine, financially unstable, and having much more sex than I did.

It was the dream — in my 20s and living in NYC, but the Girls lived a part of it for me. I watched for the snippets of dialogue so genuine I had to call my sister and tell her “Lena Dunham knows exactly how I feel(!)” But they also knew a different city than I did, one that embraced their sense of entitlement, their right to discover who they were. Whereas I was plagued by claustrophobia, and felt so small against the skyscrapers.

I loved Marnie because she is so devastatingly beautiful. But I loved Hannah the most, because she is the writer. She is the epitome of a self centered 20 something year old, believing that people will listen, that her story is profound. She is the self-described “voice of my generation”, or at least “a voice of a generation.” She is doing what I wanted to, but never had the balls to do.

I watched them grow up, and I’ve grown too. When I moved away, I craved the montages of the city. When the final season of Girls kicks off, I’ll be twenty seven, but always a Girls girl.