Truly, Madly, Sleepy

I've been an ardent fan of Mad Men since episode one. It shows Sunday nights at three different times so it's rare that I'm unable to see it on a week-to-week basis (who's not around Sunday nights at 11 p.m.?). In this TV-on-DVD day and age, it's the one show that I continue to arrange my life around and manage to stay current. The fact that Mad Men runs as an abbreviated 13-episode season is a bittersweet thing for me—as much as I miss it when it's not there, at least I don't have to worry about missing it. Without the love of that damned show holding me to my TV set like a beautifully styled set of handcuffs for an hour each week, I'm free.

I'm not sure what I could say about last night's season 3 finale that hasn't already been said by a billion other bloggers. It was a refreshing surge of momentum after a season that had, for the most part languished in the doldrums, (albeit brilliantly—no one does the doldrums like Mad Men). It set up a doozy of a season 4, what with Don getting the SC band back together, Betty the ice queen embarking on a new position as a political wife, and an era of historical turbulence ahead to mine for dramatic arcs. And then there's Don himself—the flawed antihero who has managed to become a man for his and this time despite the fact that he's a hard, selfish and possessive bastard (literally and figuratively) with abandonment issues and a shady past. Any tenderness he's shown comes on the tip of a dart. He's dangerous, complicated and so bloody handsome that you can't rip your eyes away when he appears on screen. His moving out of his Stepford house into a New York apartment at the end of the finale episode has been construed by many to be a sad thing, but for me it was a thrilling sign of things to come. I can't even begin to fathom the white-hotness that will be Bachelor Draper. His character is about to become THE man about town (in a helluva town), no strings attached—other than the fact that he's going to miss his kids, of course. It's a whole new era for the show and it's going to be amazing.

Despite this terrible attraction to the character of Don, I've been all look-don't-touch up to this point—never once succumbing to a fingerbang fantasy, or imagining myself saying "yes" when he asked me to ditch my position as the owner of a luxury department store and run away with him to California. But then, last night, after the season 3 finale, I had my first real technicolor Draper Dream—and let me say right off the bat, in the interest of quelling any worries that this post is about to become NSFW, that it was not in the least bit hot. The dream mostly involved me trying to check out of a hotel room I'd been staying in because Don asked me to come away with him and help him out with something. Whatever that situation was is not important. What is important is that this essentially makes me Peggy. If this dream means anything, it's that subconsciously, I don't want to fuck the Don Drapers of this world, I just want to impress them with my creative capabilities and dependability. I'm not sure how I feel about this. My subconscious had all the tools for hot Draper sex last night, but instead I got to relate to him on an intellectual basis. I guess that's kinda hot. Right Tina Fey? 

I know what you're thinking but I'm chalking this up to the fact that I went to bed with the season finale running through my mind. No use getting all mad about a lost opportunity to screw Don Draper's brains out—there's no one I can fire over this. I won't really start to worry unless I start having dreams about offering to lend Brad Pitt my favourite book, or sharing a cheese platter with Ryan Gosling. Actually, that is kind of hot...

TTFN!