Hope springs eternal doesn’t it?

I am well aware that Women’s Murder Club is on ABC, a network that gave the first lesbian character in a soap opera more kisses from men than women. I am well aware that Women’s Murder Club is based on a series of novels, in which Lindsay Boxer can’t seem to get enough penile injections. I am well aware that prime time TV includes homo boys and girls in numbers far below their estimated proportion in society. I am well aware that this show is never, ever going to go there. These things I know. And yet… when I saw this story it still made me weepy.

You see, as long as our girls are both single, I can hold out hope, I can imagine what they are doing when the cameras aren’t rolling, I can pretend that they are keeping their relationship on the down-low because they want to be each other’s dirty little secret. I can think sexy!

But apparently the powers that be have decided that our favorite Inspector can get it on with a blonde hotel guy just as easily as a brunette FBI guy, and that the lightning in a bottle that is real on-screen chemistry should be avoided at all costs once again.

Shame. I’d already picked out a lovely O’Keefe print for Lindsay and Cindy’s commitment ceremony. Flowers, obviously, not cow skulls.