As Michael and Michael's Biggest Fan!, I settled in for the premiere episode with the biggest hopes.

Halfway through the episode, my boyfriend mumbled -- just loud enough so I could hear it -- "I guess David Wain was what made them funny."

Happily, Heather's review gives me high hopes for the second episode, and I will be sure to watch. Still, as an ardent admirer of Stella and certain movies starring Mr. Showalter, I can't help shake the feeling that there is an empty space where Mr. David Wain used to stand. Peculiarly, I've always preferred the Michaels to David ("Wainy Days" is, to me, only occasionally funny), so I wonder where this reluctance is coming from.

I remember reading, somewhere, an awfully interesting article about Wes Anderson's pairing with fellow writer Owen Wilson, about how post-Tenenbaums outings left viewers wanting, and about how writing together demanded that each respective writer be better and work harder. "You can't impress your friends," the article said something like. "Writers don't need a 'yes' man; they need someone to say no and roll his eyes." (I've put that in quotes, but I am probably editorializing.) My point is, maybe I would have liked the first episode's writing more if David Wain had been there causing writerly dissent. Or maybe not.

P.S. I'm not usually such a naysayer! I feel like I generally like everything!

It's nice that so many of the letter writers here are so enlightened. The truth: not everyone is.

Here is an exchange I had with another woman when I was in my mid-twenties:

She: "Of course, you already knew that about him."

I: "Uh."

She: "Because you've slept together?"

I: "Nope.

She: "No?"

I: "Never."

She: "I thought you were best friends, though!"

I: "Yes."

I remember, at the time, this acquaintance's being baffled, and my being baffled at her surprise. In the years following, I've prized my friendships with men. But in turn, I've felt absolutely betrayed if I ever discovered my friends -- male OR female, I suppose -- wanted anything more. Most recently, a good friend told me outright that he subscribed to the Harry/Sally philosophy, and I just balked. "You can't be serious!" I blurted at him, scooting away. (Then again, he was actually lamenting another female friend's lack of romantic feeling; to him, I am blessedly neuter.)

I've expected other people to appreciate platonic friendship, and here and there (especially in a male-dominated field of work) I've been especially surprised and hurt when my expectations for friendship have surprised or hurt other people. So, no: not everyone can be so 'enlightened'.

Maybe as an editorial piece, sure, this was fluffy, but I think it plucks at a few familiar strings for a lot of readers.