I've been hate-watching every episode of The Mindy Project since it first aired, but it wasn't until a couple weeks back that I realized I actually kind of love it for a small set of reasons. One? The second half of the season is a different series compared to the first. (Rooster-awakening day and cloak of darkness night, for real.) And two? Because I have eyeballs, and they're exclusively locked dead on that lovable grump Dr. Danny Castellano.
I've seen Chris Messina on The Newsroom, I've seen him in Argo, I've even seen him while stalking his IMDB profile for the past fifteen minutes. But, even pages of Tumblr GIFs consisting of him giggling with various lengths of facial hair would do nothing for me without the unignorable, oh-so-perfect role of curmudgeonly gynecologist he's been assigned. He's just so tiny and great, like a leprechaun you want to have sex with!
Now, now, as a virile young Jewish girl, I know that I'm predisposed to liking dark-haired, ambiguously religious doctors. (If racism is taught, not inherited, defecting for smart, able-bodied men of the Torah is as well.) But the more you pay attention to his background frowns instead of what dress Mindy Kaling totally tricked wardrobe into getting for her, it all just starts to fall into place. Of course he's up to his eyeballs in vagina all day but can't tell that the annoying receptionist from Gossip Girl is totally into him. Of course he acts like he has a vivacious life outside of work but celebrates Thanksgiving alone under fluorescent lighting. Of course he's an unbelievable, slutty, Channing Tatum-style dancer whose probably taken more flamenco lessons than he can count on one hand but never lets anyone know it.
Most importantly, though? He works in an office next to an attractive British doctor — please tally how many one night stands each ingredient in that mix allots one human being — and still manages to be the unignorable boyfriend material. In female terms, this would be like standing next to your rail-thin childhood best friend whose lanky limbs turned to modelesque pins and a freaky obsession with all the boring old Victorian shit at museums landeed her a job at Vogue. Oh, and she's still nice, just because she's a wholesome blonde Midwestern girl, but for some reason, guys bypass her and ask for your number instead. Seemingly impossible, but in Messinaland, it's real.
Other important things to know? Hot with a beard. Hot without. Hot with a hobo beard. Hot with a moustache! Hot as a good husband. Hot as a bad husband!
Looks like having a soft spot for negging totally paid off.