Dissecting Grey's Anatomy

To all the twenty-somethings out there, welcome to our Thursday night, where we all gather around the TV eagerly awaiting to see what will happen to the doctors, interns and nurses of Seattle Grace Hospital—a jovial hospital where the doctors have a sense of humor, a whole lot of casual sex, and a bar across the street they’re usually drinking at when they’re paged to be rushed into major surgery.

The whole show is intriguing—really strong story lines, quality acting, and their cuteness in renaming everything with a “Mc” in front of it. McDreamy, McSteamy, McVet, McDiarrhea, Mc Coitus, etc. But I must say—and I don’t feel like I am alone here—last night’s season finale left me with a sort of confused “huh?” feeling compared to last years enlightenment and devastation.

The season started off strong and with everyone eagerly anticipating who Meredith would choose to be with, McDreamy or McVet. McVet was credited under “guest star,” so smart viewers knew he wasn’t going to make the cut. But I remember last season’s finale—no one had seen emotional devastation like that since 1997 with the debut of Titanic. The following Friday after Denny died women across the country were wandering the workplace aimlessly, puffy eyed, droning along as life no longer had meaning, leaving their boss and male co-workers wondering why they were all muttering and pissed that Denny Dukett had died.

"Women will have no choice but to stop watching if McDreamy becomes McDouchebag."

Because that’s what the two-hour season finale was all about last season: doctors getting shot, will or won’t Denny get the heart, and a sex scene that was practically soft-core. Seriously I think if the writers could get away with it, Meredith would have stuffed her McPanties in his McMouth instead of his tuxedo pocket. It was the crème de la crème of season finales and by the end I wiped my tears and thought there was going to be a serious McVoid in my Thursdays this summer.

Thursday’s season finale was so underwhelming that if my friends and I hadn’t been drinking through it we never would have made it to the end willingly. So there we were eating strawberry cupcakes with coconut icing, plenty of vodka in our glass, and Patrick Dempsey started acting like an asshole. So during commercial break my friend Erin (recently broken up with her long-term bf) stood up and went into a soapbox speech in the middle of my living room like she was the CEO of a major production studio. “You know these writers better watch out. That McDreamy is becoming more unmarketable with his personality flaws growing bigger and bigger every week… and ABC really can’t afford to lose this show, because they’ve already got holes all over their schedule. And women will have no choice but to stop watching if McDreamy becomes McDouchebag.”

As supportive friends we all applauded and agreed until the next scene where he made a big ol’ love speech and suddenly was back to being a knight in shinning armor and Meredith was just aching for a beating—and this time she didn’t want it from his penis. A season finale with no sex scene? That’s like going to see Die Hard without explosions or chase scenes and just watching John McClane negotiating with the terrorists over the phone for two hours. It doesn’t work. And neither does no sex.

Not that there wasn’t sexual tension, but I don’t understand Izzie’s character anymore. Last season she was ready to marry Denny and his new heart but it fell through. He died and left her with 8 million dollars and her mourning period lasted her FOUR episodes (time equivalent of three weeks) before she decided she was in love with her buddy George, who’s married. That’s not love lady, that’s a serious lack of options. Take off the scrubs, put on a dress and go out; you used to be a model, you can pretty much land any guy you want. Maybe someone who’s not already taken or someone you have to practically kill to keep alive would make a nice change.