Reddest of Flags

Not infrequently, a young brother will be invited to spend the night at the abode of his lady friend. In my younger days, I used to delay this as long as possible. It’s always awkward to try to sleep over; but it can be convenient to avoid the late-night drive back to home base. It’s also the prime place to gather intelligence on the psychological underpinnings of a potential medium-term fling.

One of the most annoying habits shared by a plurality of single twentysomething women is the need to fall asleep with the television on. I realize in hindsight that certain production outlets probably anticipated this from the get. Charlie Rose’s monotone voice and black background is more conducive to edging an aging skank into slumber than the canned laugh tracks and big band music of The Tonight Show. I doubt that’s coincidental.

The inability to fall asleep without stranger’s voices jabbering into their ears is a tell. People like tee-vee because it’s a means of escape from a reality that they can’t abide. When a young cubicle drone listens to the comforting father-tones, as she slips into her own subconscious, she believes (at some level) that she has daddy’s approval. This is only comforting to someone with no connection to community or authority.

The woman who falls asleep with the television on is the woman who hates herself, and can’t handle the reality that quiet introspection would force her to confront.