Dear Tami Taylor, I mean Mrs. Coach, I mean Connie Britton,
Well, I guess I should start by apologizing. I’m sorry for always calling you by the name of a character you played on a TV show that has been sadly off the air for over a year. You are Connie Britton, you are not Tami Taylor, wife of Coach Eric Taylor, mother to Julie Taylor and that kind of funny looking baby, and guidance counselor/principal to hundreds of teenagers in Dillon, Texas. (My therapist told me I should repeat this to myself as often as necessary, until it sticks.) It’s hard to separate you from Tami because Tami is the awesomest and you were so awesome at playing her that sometimes I forget the show was fiction, not a documentary about a place where the world revolves around high school football and a tall drink of sensitive man water named Tim Riggins. Is it okay, though, that I still ask myself, when I’m in a pickle, “What would Tami Taylor do?” I hope so. You, I mean she is so helpful!
So with that apology out of the way, I just want to tell you, Connie Britton, on the eve of your new ABC show “Nashville,” that I love you. Like, I wish you were my best friend, older sister, and first lesbian experience wrapped up in one person, which is really confusing and sort of weird, and it’s further complicated by the fact that I want to be you too. Don’t run away. Stay with me here. Keep reading »
