Mistresses (BBC 1, last night)

Something hit me while idly watching the first episode of the new series of Mistresses last night.

I think I'd seen the show before, and I'd read bits and bobs promoting it, so I had a general idea what I was in for. Besides, needed to kill time before Shameless was one.

I realised that the programme, and others like it, are 'grass is greener' television. Over-the-top scenes of illicit romps in hotel rooms with mysterious strangers... I remember being single, I remember liaisons, I do not remember anything like that. But then, I'm in my twenties, no kids, no mortgage, and whilst I'm very happy in my relationship and would like it to last, it isn't set in stone that this is my life until the day that I die. There is still possibilities, and my wild (ish) past is not that far behind me. I am not the target market for this show.

The target market are people who will look at these scenes and it will fulfill their 'grass is greener' fantasies that they secretly harbor. They will never go out and do these things, they don't have the energy once the kids are in bed, and his shirts need ironing, and they have to be up early to drop the Volvo at the garage. But, they will watch this show, tell themselves it's real, that people out there are doing that, let the thought flit across their mind, and return to boring normality.

I suppose the real difference between them and me is that I could do this stuff if I wanted. I don't, but I guess I have that option. I also have the option not to bother watching Mistresses again. Not that the world it portrays bothers me at all, it's the world of its viewers that I can't avoid thinking of that plunges me into the depths of despair.

I have nothing against marriages, mortgages, and kids, I hasten to add. But these are not things I intend to get tangled up in until I've done all I feel I need to do that they may stop me doing. Hopefully, doing things that way will prevent me ever feeling the need to go weak at the knees while watching crap television on an overstuffed floral sofa.