if ted’s s1-s3 arc is the wizard of oz—innocent from kansas travels to a distant land, meets many strange people, fixes a systemic governance issue with the Power of Goodness, then goes home—that makes s4 return to oz and, uh… 😬

seriously, though, one of my big issues with the erstwhile finale is how it failed to say anything meaningful about the concept of “home.” Ted goes “home” at the end meaning back to kansas, but is that home for him? He leaves the community he built, the people whose lives he changed for the better, the place where he grew and changed as a person, to, what? Coach peewee football with a thousand-yard stare that makes the final ten seconds of this feel-good comedy lean uncomfortably into existential horror? Why? Just because it’s back in kansas?

(because that was The Arc and The Plan and one does not deviate, even when what was planned at the beginning no longer makes sense. Probably.)

anyway, that’s not the point. Point is, ted lasso works far better not as dorothy but as mary poppins. Unconventional educator floats in on the wind, pisses off the establishment with kooky methodology, a spot or two of magical realism, and the unshakable refusal to be cowed by conventional beliefs or what others call authority. And then, crucially, when the Job is Done, they fuck off somewhere new to a new job and start again.

all i would have needed to reconcile me to the original arc’s ending is to have ted coaching not peewee but maybe a college soccer team, one that’s losing due to bad management, low morale, etc etc and needs ted’s folksy wisdom and people-first approach to sort them out. That should have been his calling.

which would make this new season not return to oz but mary poppins comes back, the second in the mary poppins book series and a pretty good sequel from what i remember, having read it *cough* number of decades ago. In short, mary poppins returns because the banks family needs her and she goes where she is needed. She doesn’t need to be coaxed back, she just shows up, because she knows where she needs to be and why. Then when her work is done she’s off again. This is the framework that would suit ted best and what the show ought to have leaned into if it wasn’t going to take him through the process of redefining what home means to him, another far more satisfactory way s3 could have ended.

so yeah. Withholding judgement on s4 until i hear more about the vibe of the season and whether it might actually stick a landing this time.

Ilya Rozanov has a girlfriend. 

That’s what the internet is saying and saying it loud, great, blaring headlines and splashy photographs all across the tabloid news sites, from Page Six to TMZ. Not that Shane reads any of that shit. Not on purpose, anyway. 

It’s just, he can’t avoid it sometimes. Rozanov is clickbait. Handsome, photogenic, his exploits the sort that people want to read about. Crazy. Wild. Sexy. Never with the same girl twice. Until now. 

She’s really beautiful, Shane thinks, when he first sees the photos. Then he scoffs at himself. Of course she’s fucking gorgeous. Rozanov never fucks any woman who isn’t. 

There’s something different about this one, though. Obviously there must be, she’s the one who locked him down. She’s young according to the reports, barely nineteen, with long, dark hair and youthful softness still in her cheeks. Not at all Rozanov’s usual type, but then, maybe that’s the appeal. 

Shane thinks about how he was nineteen the first time he and Roz—but no. Fuck no. He’s not going there. He’s not fucking thinking about that, or anything to do with Rozanov. Not anymore. It’s done. 

It was always going to come to this, he tells himself. It’s not like they could go on as they are—as they were—forever. It’s not like they could be—

No. They can’t be anything. Shane doesn’t want them to be. It’s just—he kind of wishes he’d known that the last time was the last time. He’d have—fuck, he doesn’t know. Savoured it more, maybe. Really focused on the way it felt, Rozanov’s hands and his mouth on Shane’s skin, his cock buried deep in Shane’s ass, filling him up so beautifully full and clearing all the clutter from the corners of his mind, to be replaced by sheer sensation. Shane wishes he’d fixed his memories of it more firmly in that clear mind so he’d have them ready to call up when he needs them. When he’s by himself and empty, without even the prospect of Rozanov to look forward to. Shane’s not sure when he’ll get fucked like that again, if he ever will. The times he’s tried sleeping with other people haven’t gone great. They weren’t bad exactly, he supposes. They just weren’t Rozanov. 

He envies Rozanov that, so fucking much. That ability he seems to have to just fuck anyone and enjoy it. Shane's wondered about it over the years, what the hookups who aren't him are like. He wonders if Rozanov takes a systematic approach to them, like what he does with Shane is what he does with everyone. That would certainly save him time and effort. It might get boring, though, and Rozanov is easily bored. No, Shane concludes, it's far more likely Rozanov changes things up every time. Tries something new with every new person.

Maybe that’s why he got tired of Shane. 

His girlfriend is young. Athletic-looking. Agile. She’d be able to keep him on his toes. Shane’s pretty flexible himself thanks to his yoga and he and Rozanov have done some stuff, but this girl probably has tricks Shane’s never even heard of. Maybe he should read up on sex moves, new positions, so his next hookup won’t get bored and go date someone else. 

“Fuck this,” he mutters under his breath and slams his phone face down on his bed. He’s being ridiculous. This doesn’t have anything to do with him. Rozanov probably just met this girl and fell in—whatever. It’s not Shane’s business. 

It’s just that he’s going to miss him. Deep, deep down in the darkest corner of his mind where he keeps all the thoughts he barely dares to think, Shane knows he’s going to miss Ilya Rozanov. And not just for the sex. 

If he could be honest with himself he’d admit he’s not sure he can handle that. 

(He can’t.)

tinhfmly, one month later:

me: