How 'The Big Bang Theory' changed my life!

Skip forward to the year 2007 when a show came out glorifying the side of myself I had always tried to hide – the one who was fine with staying in on a Friday night to play computer games, who was bullied by his cousins because he wasn’t a miniature version of them, and who was mocked by family members as comics were seen as the dumb man’s book. I had my friends, and we were all perfectly happy to keep to ourselves, getting good grades, keeping our gatherings small, and keeping our jokes private. This isn’t to say I was unpopular—quite the contrary, actually.  I wasn’t a misanthrope or a xenophobe, but I liked my alone time and having a quiet weekend. What I saw on this show exemplified exactly how I was passionate about topics that most people found childish, reserved but not to the point that should cause concern with my parents, and extremely close with a small group of people who shared my interests and sense of humor. If you haven’t guessed already, I’m obviously talking about the unrivaled The Big Bang Theory.

Suddenly, with the emergence of a 22-minute sitcom about four nerdy guys in their late 20s-early 30s trying to fit into the world, people like me no longer had to be ashamed. We can slap a Star Wars logo over our brand name jackets, and drop a Next Generation reference into everyday conversation without receiving raised eyebrows or derisive laughter in return. It’s acceptable to spend a Saturday night marathoning all of the Back to the Future movies or to know the name of every Robin in the Batman universe, even the most obscure characters like Adam Warlock and John Constantine. Ten years ago, maybe people would have seen me and snickered at me behind my back while I left, and used the word “nerd” or “geek” as pejoratives. Now, they’re happy to claim their “nerdy” status, praising me for brazenly displaying my own.

We deal with our dorky passions the same way our parents did in their youth with music – being constantly beleaguered by their parents “to stop listening to that drivel.” But The Big Bang has given some perspective, showing them that playing some DOTA or FIFA with our buddies is just a fun way to spend a Tuesday night. Our parents understand, because of TBBT, that these are social activities, a way to bring friends together for a night or two. And it’s all because they now see the hilarity of it when watching The Big Bang and, most importantly, that video games and comic books can be enjoyed by intelligent, successful adults. When my mom saw theoretical physicist Sheldon, astrophysicist Raj, aerospace engineer Howard, and experimental physicist Leonard at the comic book shop on Wednesdays, she began to understand that my hobbies are not a puerile waste of time.  In fact, just like the guys and many other people, these things are just a form of escapism, a chance to break free into the imagination, into a world where you make the rules, into a fantasy that we all secretly covet. The Big Bang Theory allowed people to embrace this, forgoing shame and humiliation, putting it all into a positive, popular pedestal.  And, much like I did, many others began to emerge, freeing themselves from the stigma of “nerdiness” and somehow trying on the new social status of “cool,” despite the fact that they love Battlestar Galactica.

So maybe I am jumping to conclusions about myself here. Maybe I am on the exact same position as others, and only recently felt discussing “nerdy” topics in a social setting acceptable.

Maybe we’re all hiding under the giant nerd blanket.

Or maybe it’s all one big Bazinga