'House' Was the Quintessential Single-Guy Show

Remember Dr. Greg House, the poster boy for middle-aged single blokes with near-infinite freedom and impunity?

THE single guy smirk

If you view people as puzzles, they can’t hurt you. They can either disappoint or exceed your expectations. But if you’re unable to solve them, you might become obsessed, which means you need to get closer — perhaps even reveal some of your true feelings — and that could risk you developing an emotional attachment. Who’d want that, right? Many of us are single because being alone is uncomplicated. Risk-averse. Pain-free. Solitude is a self-constructed comfort zone. It’s as empty or full, bright or dark, as we make it. We can permeate it with comforting, reassuring thoughts or strip it down to a vacant room of white noise that lulls our senses. It can be consoling or terrifying, fulfilling or depressing, depending on what view we want to see it through.

At its best, Hugh Laurie’s Dr. House gave us a permission slip to live vicariously through him without giving a damn about repercussions and consequences — to enter I Don’t Care Land freely for an hour every week.

Lately, I’ve been catching myself rewatching House instead of dutifully checking out the numerous new film releases and TV shows, not to mention the screeners piling up in my inbox. At first, I thought this was a subconscious rebellion against myself (to do something that I’m “not supposed to,” at least not without an incentive), but what rings closer to the truth is that I needed comfort. I went back to a series that I saw in full less than three years ago because I wanted to feel ok. I wanted something concrete and reaffirming — a source of relief I wasn’t getting much of recently — without an agenda or pressure to write about. I didn’t plan to talk about a show that ended 13 years ago and has little relevance today. Ironically, that’s exactly what sparked an inspiration, reigniting something in me that I haven’t felt much of lately.

See, I’ve never really watched House for the “medical” part. I started binging the series because it’s soothing and alleviates the monotony and the burden of my everyday problems. That’s particularly true for me, a single guy who enjoys being alone a lot. And I don't merely mean to be without a romantic partner but as an individual. Here’s why: House gives meaning to being alone. Greg House, the ultimate poster boy (man?) for middle-aged single blokes, highlights why many of us prefer singleness as a self-conscious choice and not an unfortunate outcome of unlikability. Whether we are narcissistic, insufferable jerks, or shy introverts with a crippling amount of social anxiety (maybe both), House speaks to us in a language we immediately understand.

for real

Laurie’s character is a clever prick, an outrageous yet hysterically witty asshole, through whom we could indulge our worst impulses and most offensive opinions with impunity. His mean but sharp insults aimed at people around him were never at our expense. He took all the hate for us, leaving us consequence-free. And he had an excuse because he was miserable — or at least that’s what everyone says about him over a dozen times in each season. But is he really? Normally, I’d say yes. I wrote a whole essay about his relationship with pain and how it makes him bitter yet unique at the same time. That's the premise of the show.

But there’s the other side of the scale we tend to ignore: House pulls a ton of reckless yet amusing stunts because he has practically no one to answer to. No wife to please, no girlfriend to maintain, no responsibility to raise kids, support a family, or be kind to keep a reputation. What he has is infinite time to feed his vices and interests. To chase things that make him obsessed with the carefree-ness (and carelessness) of a teenager. How many of us can actually afford that in any real way? Most people are trapped by their own choices and circumstances. We often put things off we’d love to do because we bill them less “important” than our "responsibilities." We put others ahead of ourselves because that’s the right thing to do — the honorable and selfless act of being a good person. Not House, though. He doesn't do what's right just because someone expects him to — he only does it if he believes in it.

the ideal look in your 40s

We merely wish to be like House because it's unrealistic. There's no woman who could put up with his whims and constant insults. No best friend who’d forgive indirectly causing the death of their girlfriend. There’s no employee who would tolerate the relentless humiliation and manipulation long enough without wanting to scratch his eyes out with a spoon. House isn’t real (or plausibly realistic), but the show make it seem like he is, which is part of the appeal.

What is real, however, is the preference and need for solitude that’s not construed as loneliness. There are people who function better alone with a razor-sharp focus, eliminating every distraction. And there are folks who should be on their own, at least for a while, to grow and improve as human beings. In Season 6’s Lockdown, House admits to a dying patient that he likes to be alone. The way he says it implies that what he’s talking about is a sort of social stigma. He looks vulnerable and ashamed to share this because he thinks the average person wouldn’t understand it. And I’m not saying that everybody should spend their entire life alone, but we mustn't look down on anyone who chooses to live that way of their own accord for whatever reason — and the series doesn’t make that mistake either.

As much as he’s an outcast and a loner, House needs people, too. To diagnose, to change, to feel, to love. He's not immune or indifferent to company, and he has some kind of twisted hunger to be loved and wanted by others. But it never defines him, nor is he dependent on that need. He can separate the two and admit if he's wrong — although, at times a little too late. In a way, this is why the show's finale is perfect and poignantly sweet because House finally takes a shot at changing and letting go of everything that used to be vital to him to be with the only person who stood by him no matter what. But, arguably, there's a notion lingering in that ending that suggests: once Wilson (Robert Sean Leonard) dies, House will likely spend the rest of his years more alone than he’d ever been — which is, for better or for worse, a fate that suits him impeccably.

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