Girls is the rarest thing there is: a piece of art that imitates life instead of other art. It’s like watching Brando in Streetcar for the first time and realizing that everyone else was just pretending to act. Girls unbridles the female id for the first time ever in popular entertainment, and in so doing, recreates the world we actually live in. Its basic assumptions reflect humanity as it is, and its total transvaluation of character vindicates my entire life. Watching it is like being baptized. When I have doubts about the choices I’ve made, Girls dispels them. When I long for the past, Girls sets me back on track. Girls is the yin to my yang. Girls is sublime. Girls is brilliant, and Lena Dunham’s willingness to tell the naked, amoral, animal truth frees me to tell the truth of my own: That without a doubt, in another life, I would run away to New York and search high and low to woo and take her in marriage, if only she weren’t so beat.