For years I have mocked and derided a certain television program called The OC. I watched one episode a few years ago, and I couldn't understand what everyone loved about it. Now I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I was wrong. As it turns out, The OC is a reasonably good program. (If we exclude Mischa Barton's insane suicidal character.)

Before I offer my critique, I should explain the circumstances that led me to watch enough episodes of The OC -- and I have now watched more episodes than I care to admit -- to change my mind. After an oral surgery on Tuesday, I had a mandate from my periodontist to take prescription painkillers, which rob me of my ability to do just about everything. So I pulled up Hulu and looked for something to watch. What made me decide to revisit The OC I don't know, but after I watched the pilot, I realized I had made a grave error in judgement.

The show has wonderfully witty dialogue and a healthy dose of humor. It's clear the writers don't take the genre or the format too seriously. The characters' frequent references to "The Valley" -- a fictional television show about wealthy, attractive teenagers in California -- demonstrates a laudable level of self-mockery. In the series finale, when one of the characters comments, "You know these teen dramas go on forever," I laughed out loud. High praise indeed, given how rarely that happens when I'm watching TV.

I also found the characters far more personable and down-to-earth than the standard cast of run-of-the-mill vapid socialites on most such shows. While not everyone I know owns beachfront property in California or has an infinity pool in their backyard, at least none of the characters had valets or a helicopter at their beck and call.

And to all my classmates in high school who compared me to Seth Cohen: you were absolutely right. I doubt whether anyone would be surprised if I developed a color-coded holiday cheer scale using shades of beige. The outright overlap in our wardrobes makes me wonder if the show's producers had people tailing me at Urban Outfitters.

That said, the writers could have toned down Marissa Cooper (Mischa Barton's character). As I moved from season one into season two, I found myself fast forwarding through the scenes where she has a profound emotional breakdown. Once in awhile would be tolerable, but it seemed to me she was on the verge of leaping off a cliff in just about every episode.

Certainly, the quality of the show took a serious dive in season three -- I only sampled the third and fourth seasons -- but it is a pretty good show nevertheless. It's not on par with with a Victor Hugo novel by any means, but it's leaps and bounds better than the bulk of the garbage networks air. (And far, far, far better than the creator's current project Gossip Girl.) To all those I mocked and teased over the past six years, I apologize.