My “Degrassi” epiphany

OK, I’ll admit it. Degrassi is my guilty little pleasure. It’s the 90210 I wish I could’ve watched during my teenage years. Maybe watching Paige and Alex come to terms with their sexualities would have helped me figure out about myself what so many of my friends claim to have known since I was 16.

Instead, it took the not-so-subtle subtext between a warrior and a bard to propel me across the river of denial.

We won’t get into what finally drove me out of the closet of despair, but I digress. I was talking about my Degrassi infatuation.

Being the obsessive personality I am, I wandered over to IMDb in search of other worthy ventures in which to view my Degrassi favorites. After immediately discarding anything involving Antonio Banderas, I was hit with a rather disheartening realization. I am, in fact, older than Snake.

Yes, the balding dad of Degrassi is several weeks my junior. At least the principal is older than I am. Unfortunately, Ms. Hatzilakos does absolutely nothing for me.

I certainly wasn’t deluded enough to believe that I would be anywhere near the same age as the teenage Toronto denizens with whom I actually identify, but older than Snake? That’s just wrong on so many levels. Ever have one of those moments when time kicks you rather firmly in the behind? I think I might need to start acting my age. Pardon me while I go ice my cheeks.

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