May your Jenny Schecters be few and confined to season one; may they never be allowed within a thousand romantic feet of your Shane McCutcheons.

May your theme song be brief and unmemorable. May it sound nothing like this.

May your episode titles not all have the same series-title-influenced gimmick.

May your use of a blue filter be judicious and restrained and not confined only to bathhouse scenes.

May your Dana live to a ripe and a happy old age.

May what happened to Max never happen to any of your trans characters. Max deserved better. *strikes fist on imaginary coffin, sobs into a kneeling position* Max deserved better.

If you find a Peggy Peabody — and I hope that you do — maximize her screen time to the fullest extent of the law.

May your bears be many, and as bearlike as possible.

Treat your Kit with the respect and the storylines that she deserves. Do not give her Manny.

Learn from the errors of Papi. Learn from them, and do not make them again.

May your Alice have more Tashas than Phyllises. May all of your “lover Dawns” be as campy as camp can. May all of your bathrooms be used for heartfelt emotional confessions and secret hookups. These things and more we wish for you.

Sincerely,
Lesbians