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I am cheating with Netflix, and loving it

I could now define public relations but just want to draw your attention to the publicity element

In a sly jolt on the eve of Valentine's Day, Netflix released stats on couples that cheat on each other.by watching episodes ahead of their partner! Cue, crashing music. Or cue, raised eyebrows. Mine.
Excuse me while I cackle and live vicariously through this coup d'état achieved by some smarty-pants public relations person. While we all read about TV show cheating - seriously, that's a thing?! - aforementioned PR professional leans back with satisfaction on having achieved targets for the year.
I could now define public relations but just want to draw your attention to the publicity element: the company has beautifully walked the tightrope between good and negative publicity in one shot. You do recall that there is no such thing as bad publicity (the old saw was widely attributed to 19th century showman and publicity hound PT Barnum of Barnum's Circus). The fact that a hero can be in the news in this ephemeral, single screenshot-to-oblivion world of fast moving images means that he has managed to hold your attention, even interest, for a few seconds. A cross-reference with another tweet or conversation, and now he is an embedded image in your brain. Score!
Back on the subject of cheating. Isn't it rather obvious that that will happen? In our home, I find that if I'm ready to watch a show, my husband has a call that he absolutely needs to make. Or rowing in the morning. Or I have an early yoga class. A conference call that will go on for 90 minutes. A last remaining half-hour in which the A-levels exam payment has to go through. It won't, of course, so Panic Stations!
But then, that's my story. Fact is, I am in awe of couples who make time on a regular basis to watch the idiot box together. Either they are super human specimens or, I must conclude mournfully, I am sub-human. To add to the wretchedness, I cheat. I confess that I cannot any longer wait for the dear husband to return from his interesting voyages to distant lands. Sit together on the sofa, holding hands and watching our favourite show. That would not work, clearly, because two minutes into watching a new season of Luther, I'd have squeezed the bones in that charming hand or shrieked the window off its hinges. Neither of which would find much favour with the DH.
On his part, I'm not entirely sure that he is pleased about my sense of entitlement. "I've had a rough day, and now I must be entertained," is not his philosophy. It's mine. Much along the lines of (imperious clapping of hands): "Bring on the dancing girls."
That's exactly what it is. I'm on a mission: I'm subverting the paternalistic order of the world. One Netflix episode at a time. -harveena@khaleejtimes.com