When Will TV Realize Millennials Actually Have It (Somewhat) Together?

During the season finale of Master of None on Netflix, Aziz Ansari‘s Dev begins to have second thoughts about his relationship with Rachel (Noël Wells) while watching two friends get hitched. Sinking into his own subconscious, Dev succumbs to a bleak, black-and-white flash forward: he and Rachel are now at the altar, wondering what the heck they’re doing. “Rachel, I’m not 100% sure about this,” he begins. “Are you the one person I’m supposed to be with forever? I don’t fuckin’ know. And what’s the other option? We break up? That seems shitty too. And I love you. I do… I don’t know, I guess getting married is a safer bet at this point.” Rachel, who looks wholly understanding rather than hurt, more or less agrees: “I’ve spent two of my prime years with you so I guess I’m all in. That’s just math, right?” The minister isn’t so sure either: “Do you, Dev, take Rachel to be your partner in a possibly outdated institution in order to have a quote unquote ‘normal life?'”

It’s a tough moment to sit through, especially while watching with your partner, as it paints a painfully honest portrait of today’s current dating landscape. Do we want to settle down or do we feel like we need to settle down to prove we’re grown ups? Yet, the more the premise of Master of None sinks in — boy meets girl, boy and girl question their place in the world — the more the layers peel away, only to reveal this show isn’t about dating in the slightest: it’s about trying to discover what you want in life as an adult. Same goes for Girls on HBO. And Man Seeking Woman on FXX. And You’re the Worst on FXX. And Netflix’s latest, Love.

So why are these series, particularly Love, which hails from millennial whisperers Judd Apatow, Paul Rust (Comedy Bang! Bang!), and Lesley Arfin (Girls), marketed to audiences in a way that suggests young people simply cannot get it together? To add insult to injury, the discussion surrounding these shows (which are all critically adored and some of my current favorites, might I add) alludes to the theory that young people can’t get with it precisely because they haven’t found that special someone to, more or less, ground them. Not only is this a somewhat damning generalization of a large chunk of the population, but also unreflective of the depths to which these series dive.

I was hesitant to review Love for a couple of reasons. Not only have I grown tired of Judd Apatow’s redundant, drawn out storytelling, but I’m also sick and tired of watching my age group be promoted and misconstrued as spoiled, wayfaring narcissists. I know, I know: I can practically feel the seething Gen-X eye-rolls coming through the screen. I wonder, however, if these shows were marketed or even titled less vaguely if we would all feel differently.

For instance, before you know anything about it, Love‘s broad name and Gen-Y skewed trailer suggests a tale of will they-won’t they angst, fueled by haunting heartbreak and uncertainty about the future. Yet, what unfolds isn’t just a story of two polar opposite people who decide to give a real relationship a shot (late into the season, mind you). It’s a singular show about two very, very different paths to and through adulthood. Come to find out, our protagonists, Gus (Paul Rust) and Mickey (Gillian Jacobs in an award-worthy performance), are the way they are for reasons having nothing to do with relationships, whatsoever.

We learn that Gus, a hapless pushover, has never once felt comfortable in his own skin while Mickey, a recovering addict, continuously falls off the wagon despite ongoing support from those around her. The friendship and, with time, blossoming relationship that evolves isn’t so much a story of millennial commitment-phobia, but rather, two explorations of people who refuse to settle down until they fix themselves. And we consider that not having it together? These are individuals with steady careers, solid friendships, and goals for attaining happiness. So they aren’t getting married anytime soon. Big whoop.

According to a 2015 poll by the National Journal Heartland Monitor, and as dissected by The Atlantic, the median age of first marriages has risen substantially in the new millennium, citing reasons such as cohabitation, career security, and financial stability as crucial musts for many young people considering tying the knot. The outline also suggests that young Americans, on average, view marriage and parenthood as a sacred institutions — much like their older, polled counterparts — but money and comfortable standards of living are major factors in deciding to move forward with one or the other or both.

Now this may be the most millennial-sounding thing you’ll read yet, but I believe it’s time to consider the distinct difference between being selfish and acting narcissistic. But don’t take my word for it: watch it play out in Master of None and Girls and Man Seeking Woman and You’re the Worst and Love. These are series that, symbolically, are about relationships but are actually about so much more: insecurity, addiction, depression, failure, success, and perhaps, most importantly, trying to be the best version of oneself before making a lifelong commitment. Forgive my generational bias, but why is that selfish? My issue isn’t with the shows themselves, but how they’re lumped into this alt genre to be marketed to young people who can probably relate to quote unquote “not having their shit together.” But plenty of us do, and forgive us for wanting to hear and discuss more about the underlying themes of these vaguely titled series than what’s suggested otherwise.

[Stream Love on Netflix]

Photos: Netflix