It’s an episode of Friends.
Friends is my all-time favorite show. Ever. I can (and usually do) watch it every day. And the more I watch it, the more I relate to it.
I’m Joey. Struggling to break into my dream career, but have been known to take the crappiest of jobs if it meant that I was even remotely connected to where I ultimately want to be in life.
I’m Chandler. I’m hopeless and awkward and desperate for love. Okay, maybe not desperate, but I have a habit of defaulting to my “Janice” when I’m confused about relationships.
I’m Monica. I’ve dated a man old enough to be my father and I am ridiculously competitive.
I’m Rachel. I had a kid as a result of a one-time deal with an old boyfriend and an accident happened and had no idea how to change a diaper, much less be a mother. (My kid is way cuter than Emma though.)
I’m Ross. I’ve been in love with a friend of mine for nearly ten years, but I’m too chicken to do anything about it.
I’m Phoebe. I didn’t grow up privileged, and that has made me a free-spirit.
I’ve had ick factors and crushes on cute doctors, I’ve worked in jobs I hated and busted my ass to get a job I wanted that I was underqualified for. I frequent a coffee house with my best friend, where we talk for hours about nothing. I’ve been in love and I’ve been married. I’ve had crazy roommates and been obsessed with Baywatch.
The genius of this show really is that no matter what you’ve been through in life, you can relate to some, maybe all of the characters.