When I announced plans to go cable-free, a few jokers suggested in mock horror that the change might actually result in my husband and I _ gasp _ spending time together. I didn't bother telling them that we do plenty of that as it is. We cook together, play video games together, eat together, brush our teeth together and go to bed at the same time, so I didn't anticipate much of a change when we discontinued our cable subscription. I forgot about one thing, though: the TV remote.
"Masculine power is evident in a number of ... families as the ultimate determinant on occasions of conflict over viewing choices. It is even more apparent in the case of those families that have a remote-control device," wrote Elizabeth Thoman in a 1989 article for Media & Values. Fast-forward almost 20 years, when Mary Richert of The Guardian suggests that technologies such as digital video recording devices have helped eliminate the classic gender struggle over television control.
"Having multiple sources for entertainment and information means we don't have to battle over a single TV," Richert wrote in October.
Let me point out that I live in a reasonably enlightened household. Shoveling sidewalks, taking out the trash, doing dishes and cooking dinner are shared tasks. But however many inroads gender equality has made into my home, the remote control still finds its way into my husband's hands 99 percent of the time.
Mind you, this is not an issue over which I'm willing to draw battle lines. We like the same shows, so it's mostly a moot point. Sure, I've been known to banish him so I can stay caught up with "Project Runway." These banishments are usually preceded by groans of anguish, but he'd rather be banished, I suspect, than forced to sit through a program that bores him to tears.
In his 2006 book, "Boys and Their Toys: Understanding Men by Understanding Their Relationship with Gadgets," Bill Adler wrote, "If you're a guy, and you've got the television remote in your hand, you're happy." What is at the root of this sanguine attitude, according to Adler? The ability _ or at least the perceived ability _ to stave off boredom.
"Men are easily and frequently bored, but they also have a need to squirm, to fiddle. Men also fear that they will become bored: They anticipate boredom with great dread and go out of their way to prevent that from happening," Adler explains.
I am sure that Adler's blanket statements do not hold true for every male of the species. However, I cite them here because they do seem to ring true with my beloved husband. Worse yet, they ring true for me. I'm a fiddler, a channel-surfer, as bad as any guy.
I have been known, when I know that one of my favorite shows is about to start, to flip around to 10 or 12 other channels so that I can mentally note as many backup choices as possible. Thus I know where to flip during commercial breaks, or where to turn if the show I planned to watch turns out to be a dud.
I channel-surf, as Adler says men do, "because they like it ..., because they can't think of anything else to do and there's nothing really to watch ... but also because they're afraid of becoming bored." Amen, brother.
With spring training just around the corner, my husband and I are planning to resume cable service shortly. While I'm excited to resume watching TV shows at the same time as other living humans, I'm feeling a bit of trepidation at reintroducing the remote control into my marriage.
Watching TV on the Internet has removed the whole channel-surfing dynamic from our lives, and it's been relaxing and freeing. We agree on a show and watch it, straight up, without any clicking.
That is all about to change. We're about to plunge headlong back into the world of many channels, the world that always leaves you wondering if there might not be something better just one click away. And I will once again stare longingly at the remote control that rests in my husband's hand as I feel the urge to click. But marriage, they say, is about compromise, and this is one compromise I can easily afford to make.
Daily Star Community Editor Emily Popek has been chronicling her cable-free lifestyle in "TV 2.0." This is her final column.
