The other day, Zach uttered the 10 words any self-respecting girlfriend fears most.
“I think I’m going to become a ‘Battlestar Gallactica’ guy.”
My mind started to race. “Oh God, did he really just say that? Am I dreaming? Is this just an awful, awful nightmare? Will I wake up any minute, with my only somewhat geeky boyfriend sound asleep beside me?”
When I realized that I was, unfortunately, wide awake, my heart began pounding so hard I thought my chest might explode. In between my ragged breaths, I noticed the room spinning. I may have even blacked out for a moment; it was too chaotic to tell. “Is this what my life has come to?!?”
All hyperbole aside, this story is basically true. Zach has crossed the threshold from part-time nerd (Ooh, look, a Wookie!) to full-blown geekazoid (Hey guysh, wanna check out my Cylon bobblehead collection? Hey guysh, where ya goin’? Guysh?). And all it took was three hours (read: eternity) of crap like this invading our television.
I would consider some sort of rehab program, but, alas, “Battlestar Galactica” is a lot like meth — you try it once, and suddenly things like personal hygeine and the outside world no longer matter. (Plus, my research indicates no such program exists. Yet.)
I can’t count how many times over the past few days Zach has gushed about Edward James Olmos and how he couldn’t wait for the next disc of ‘BG’ to arrive via NetFlix. I think I even heard him whispering to himself in robot binary code the other day. I’m starting to fear I’ll never again get to watch any of the completely normal movies or shows I enjoy, like “Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel,” on our TV. At least not for another four seasons.
Though my situation is hopeless, I feel I can still help others on the verge of being afflicted by this terrible, terrible condition. Ladies, if your significant other even mentions the words ‘battlestar’ or ‘galactica,’ run. Save yourself before it’s too late. Seriously, just get the frak out of there. You can thank me later.







