A little nostalgia…

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Yesterday, James Van Der Beek passed away, and honestly, that one hits hard.

There’s something about the actors you grew up watching leaving this world that feels different. It’s not just sad — it’s a reality check. A reminder that time has passed. That we’ve grown up. That the seasons of our own lives have quietly shifted while we weren’t paying attention.

James was on my favorite show in the late ’90s: Dawson’s Creek. That was my can’t-miss, rush-home, plan-my-week-around-it show for six solid years. Good, bad, painfully cringey — I loved every second of it. And let’s not forget the epic love triangle: Pacey, Joey, Dawson. I was invested.

Looking back now, I can clearly see that this show may have slightly… distorted my understanding of romance.

Because back then, I genuinely believed that if love wasn’t complicated, emotional, and at least mildly dramatic — was it even love? If there weren’t grand speeches, impossible choices, and at least one tearful dockside confession, what were we even doing?

It’s laughable now. But also? Very true.

In hindsight, I’m amazed any of the guys I dated stuck around longer than a week. To my high school and college boyfriends — well, at least three of you — I’d like to formally apologize for the unnecessary emotional plotlines I drafted you into. You didn’t sign up for a WB primetime drama.

But here’s the thing: even with its wildly unrealistic expectations of love, Dawson’s Creek was also comfort. It was familiar. It was a weekly ritual. It was watching people my age stumble through feelings, friendships, identity, heartbreak — and feeling a little less alone in the process.

It gave us language for emotions we didn’t yet fully understand. It let us practice growing up before we actually had to do it. And yes, it gave us some very cute guys to enthusiastically fan-girl over.

Watching those actors grow in their careers felt a little like watching distant friends move through life. So even though I never met James Van Der Beek, his passing carries a small, tender ache.

Maybe that’s what nostalgia really is — not just remembering a show, but remembering who we were when we watched it.

And that girl? She loved hard. Dramatically. Sometimes unnecessarily. But she felt deeply.

And for that, I’m grateful.