Dear THE SECRET LIFE OF THE AMERICAN TEENAGER,

I love you. Not because you’re the greatest show that ever aired on television. Not because you have incredibly original story lines that blow my mind. Not because I have to watch you every week to get my fix. I just love you in the way I love a good car accident or traffic stop. I cannot turn away no matter what I do. You cause a gaper delay in my heart. There’s just a lot going on and I have a few things to discuss with you.

Confession time…I was in high school marching band. I played the piccolo and then I was the drum major (GO NPMK!)! Never, ever, ever, ever in the history of my 7 years in band (including middle school) did I walk around the hallways of school in my band uniform, nor did I carry my piccolo around without a case (though it was small enough to fit in my coat pocket, which often was where you could find it). It was actually sacrilege to be seen wearing it away from the field, and we never practiced in our uniforms, unless you count warm ups before Friday football games, and even then, we only wore the pants with Tshirts. Long story short, we knew were the geeks, the band nerds, or band “fags” as we affectionately called ourselves (no disrespect meant, I swear). We didn’t need to call more attention to ourselves than we already did.

Which leads me to my next little gripe. Band camp is not a sleepaway adventure with fun times, and group sings, and time to fool around with the drummer. Band camp was a grueling 2 week period (kind of like when football players do 2 a days) that hurt every muscle in your body. 9-3, dinner break, 6-9, for two straight weeks. There was no time to fool around with the drummer; you were too exhausted. The fooling around with the drummer comes later in the season!

Though I will give you credit, show, for proving that the band kids get it on, too. I know plenty of people who had sex in high school marching band. In fact, some of my closest friends have probably had sex on the way to a marching band competition ON THE BUS. But my point is, it happened, but not during hell week. And yes, kids in band got pregnant, so kudos to you for saying it can happen.

Oh and we don’t call practice “precision drill team practice for motion” or whatever Molly Ringwald called it. We just called it practice.

I want to take a minute and address the religious aspect of the show. Grace doesn’t need to be a walking cliche to prove that religion is happening. And maybe, show, you’re making John Schneider too preachy? I’m just saying. He’s got more sermon in him than Reverend Camden ever did.

Along those lines, Adrian doesn’t need to be a walking cliche to prove that people are doing it with whomever they can find. But show, that’s why I love you. You take cliches and exploit them.

And seriously, Amy’s dad GETS AROUND! Married to Molly Ringwald, divorced from Josie Bissett, and sleeping with Adrian’s mama? They should make a spinoff. Secret Life of the American Furniture Salesman. I’d probably be hooked on that, too.

Lastly, at first, I didn’t buy the whole Ben loves Amy after one meeting thing, but people really are like that in high school, so again, show, more credit to you. Oh and I love Henry and Alice. She seems to be the only normal one on the show. Reminds of Christina Yang from Grey’s…

Anyway, show, I hope we can stay friends and I hope you work out the kinks of this freshman season so that by next year I’m a little less “staring because I can’t turn away” and a lot more “this show is getting very good.”

XO, Am