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Systematically spoiling every episode quelled zilch. The phenomenon of Netflix had trained my viewership, ensuring I keep watching: the unlimited access, the 52 episodes available for on-demand viewing, auto-play — features exploiting my dependence on fantasy and on the technology that enables my fantasy 24/7.

Also: I couldn’t risk being bored, sitting alone in echoing silence. I went to yoga that evening and moved the way the characters in Dance Academy moved, manipulating my body so powerfully I thought I must be sending signals not just to Tara and Ethan but to all of the ballet world.

Watching television reminded me that living could be more exciting, more interesting than watching television.

I had a lightness and a thrill in me as I waltzed around my apartment, washing my dishes.

When I first moved — from San Francisco, where I had three roommates, one boyfriend, and innumerable outdoor adventure opportunities — I’d look in people’s windows and notice each had a continuous blue glow. Soon I’d be attached to the same invisible tether, using TV as a substitute for living.

Streaming the first few episodes of Dance Academy after dinner one night, I listened to freckled protagonist and narrator Tara Webster, age 15, talk about dancing the way I thought of grad school: each required sacrifice, hard work, disappointment, pain, passion, exaltation, obsession.

Seasons one and two are available on Netflix Instant, and season three will air in Australia mid-2013 on ABC3.

One week prior, I sat in my one-bedroom Brooklyn apartment and clicked “play,” my only motivation being distraction — to watch something frivolous and chill out, to think tiny nothing thoughts and mentally exit my body, to tune in and tune out.

As if eating breakfast had taken on an emotional weight unforeseen in the history of human experience. Auto-play seamlessly transitioned to episode twelve, to Tara saying to her friend, “I think I have a boyfriend,” and my first reaction was, “You dumb idiot, of course you don’t,” because I knew, from life, a kiss does not mean a relationship. In the next episode, she introduces Ethan to her parents as her “boyfriend,” and he doesn’t flinch.

For the next three episodes — while I ate lunch — they are a couple, and he’s perfect and she’s perfect and they are perfect and at peace, and for the first time in a long time, I felt perfect and at peace, like I had love in my world.

For me, massive television consumption coincided with moving to New York in 2010 and subscribing to Netflix.

I could stream media instantly on my laptop for unlimited hours.

“So you see Dance Academy as a reflection of your past relationships? Tara performs a sexy contemporary dance, and I zeroed in on Ethan’s eyes — from my kitchen table I could see him see her differently — and when he extends his hand and when she takes it and when he twirls her on the floor and then lifts her up, draping her arm around his shoulders, and when they’re this close and when they kiss — my God!

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