Tell Me You Love Me

I have to admit: I love HBO’s “Tell Me You Love Me.”

Here’s how it happened. I got about halfway through the first episode and turned it off, bored by the slow pace and, honestly, bored by the sex scenes.

Then one rainy day I’d exhausted my DVR’s store of “Ugly Betty’s” and decided to give “Tell Me” another chance. Three hours later, I was won over by the slowly progressing stories of the four featured couples, all of whom struggle with and for intimacy. The show’s use of sex, though graphic (and I would argue, a bit overdone), candidly displays the way people use it as a way to forge and avoid connections, manipulate and engage each other, reveal and hide themselves.

I was already applauding the show’s refreshingly honest exploration of sex, sexuality and relationships and my sentiments only increased after reading Sunday’s NYT’s story on TV’s “Va-jay-jay,” phenomenon (complete with Gloria Steinem’s concerns)

Yes, it’s a slow burn but — call me crazy — I’m willing to bet that things are building to a big, umm, finish.

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