Channel Surfing

Beauty of 90s teen TV

I’ve been spending a lot of time by myself lately—no excessive bar tabs, no plans, no performances. Just me, my couch, and a nostalgic binge of shows that practically raised me. Somewhere between Joey Potter's heartbreak and Brooke Davis's iconic breakdowns, it hit me: I wasn't just watching TV. I was being shaped by it.

From One Tree Hill to Passions, General Hospital to Dawson's Creek, Degrassi, Beverly Hills 90210, Gossip Girl, and Veronica Mars — these shows were my first introduction to love, friendship, betrayal, drama, and everything in between. They were my emotional textbooks. I studied their relationships like scripture, took notes on their heartbreaks, and memorized the timing of every iconic background music cue like it was gospel.

And I wasn't just watching—I was deep in it. I was a full-on message board kid. I had fan sites, wrote fan fiction, made music videos for Gossip Girl couples, and spent hours on Fan Forum dissecting every single interaction between my favorite characters. I was a teen TV academic. These characters weren't just on-screen crushes—they were pieces of me. They gave me hope that life could be more dramatic, more beautiful, more romantic. More everything.

But let’s be real. These shows also warped my perception of what love actually is. I expected grand declarations, enemies-to-lovers arcs, and make-out scenes set to Snow Patrol. I thought feelings had to be big and messy and all-consuming to be real. I wanted a Pacey Witter to tell me I was worth choosing. I wanted the montage, the slow-mo kiss, the sweeping monologue. And when real life didn’t come with a soundtrack or a resolution in 42 minutes, it was jarring.

For years, I chased that kind of love—the kind where someone finally sees you, validates you, and gives you the ending you always imagined. But recently, I’ve learned to give that to myself. I don’t need a script or a scene partner to feel worthy. I don't need a Pacey (but if he exists… y'all might have to come find me). I can validate my own feelings, love my own messiness, and find beauty in my own storyline—even if it doesn’t follow a traditional arc.

These shows also shaped how I present myself. I always wanted to be the Brooke Davis of my world—charismatic, confident, the center of attention. But the real me? I live somewhere in the middle. Extroverted on the outside, emotionally deep on the inside. Loud in public, but the first to cry during a rerun of The O.C.. I might dress like the main character, but I’m still figuring out who I am in my own plot.

So over the next few weeks, I want to dive back into these worlds. Revisit the characters, the scenes, and the storylines that shaped me. She Means Well has always been about growth, but growth doesn’t just come from looking forward. Sometimes, you have to look back at what made you—even if it was a WB lineup and a couple of angsty music montages.

Because the truth is, these shows didn’t just influence how I love—they taught me how to feel. And while I’m rewriting my own scripts these days, I’ll always be grateful for the way TV gave me permission to feel everything.

Even if it made me a little delusional along the way.

This playlist is a love letter to all the late-night montages, overacted breakups, and slow-motion glances that raised me. These are the songs that could (and probably did) score an entire season of teen TV. Whether you’re crying over someone who never liked you back, romanticizing your subway ride home, or just spiraling to the sound of a cinematic string section—this one’s for you. Hit play, cue the drama, and let the emotional rewatch begin.