Netflix’s ‘Love On The Spectrum’ Is The Only Cure For Your Cold, Dead Heart

I haven’t cried during a television show since season 6 of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

Damn you Ty Pennington for breaking my 20-year streak of burying my emotions under a mountain of sarcasm and craft beer and forcing me to connect with them in an authentic, healthy way. Less pulling at my heart strings and more swinging a hammer, Pennington.

But last night—as I finished season 2 of Netflix’s Love On The Spectrum—I suffered consecutive “Move that bus!” moments, sitting in a pool of my own tears, bursting with gratitude, exfoliated of the day’s Daily Mail headlines, wondering how I’ve become so jaded.

Anyone whose finished the docuseries following young adults on the autism spectrum embark on a quest for love need not be reminded, but for the unenlightened, please enjoy a palate cleanse from all the mechanisms at work trying to get us to hate each other.

On The Depth Of Women:

Michael, the breakout star from season 1, has shown me the light. Starting today, I will no longer ask my fianceé why she consistently leaves globs of hair in the shower drain. Love unconditionally.

On Human Differences:

Can you imagine someone saying this on Twitter? Someone would probably dig up their old tweets from 2012 praising Bill Cosby.

On Respect & Autonomy:

Good question. I have no other comments at this time.

On The Universal Desire

Michael’s dad fans the flames of his desire to find live with some fatherly truth bombs. Hug your parents, kiddos.

On Buddhist Ideology

Sage advice, Michael. I saw this on a bumper sticker on the back of a Suburu Outback as well.

On Buddhist Ideology

On Relational Turbulence:

Only married people can understand how you can be miserable and happy at the same time.

On Hindsight

On Vows

I get married next August and I am 100% using the “vow to keep making vows” line. Don’t say a word.

On The Fragility Of The Human Condition

I felt this in my bones.