The first episode of HBO's new series "Big Love," or The Show About Really White People, left me confused and irritated. This reaction is normally an indication that I will be watching all future episodes in order to fully carry on one of those really unflattering one-sided cranky TV conversations. You're sitting there, ridiculing everything while trying not to miss a single moment. It's all very taxing. In the midst of the second installment, "Viagra Blue," when I was losing even negative interest, I had, appropriately enough, an epiphany.

For anyone who hasn't yet seen "Big Love," there are a couple of things to know: Polygamy is no longer on the down low, and women will be blown back to the Stone Age via religion. The series takes place in the really white suburbs of Salt Lake City and revolves around a polygamous family, lead by a character named Bill Henickson (Bill Paxton), who are neither fish nor fowl; that is to say, the family has broken with the Mormon Church and the self-professed fundamentalist Mormon sect living at a compound called Juniper Creek, which sounds like a place that should have its own catalog selling expensive, faux Western buffet tables, pricey leather hobo bags, and designer jewelry with engraved aphorisms.

Juniper Creek is ruled by Roman (Harry Dean Stanton), a creepy patriarch in a suit, white cowboy hat and Tony Lama boots. Everyone is scared of Roman because he speaks softly and is a master sidler; one minute you are alone at the gas station, the next he is right beside you. His ability to suddenly appear without warning is impressive given that he travels with another white guy who tries to look like an enforcer, except he has red hair, which really undercuts his menace factor.

In the first three episodes, Roman endlessly stalks Bill, his wives -- Barb, Nicki, Margene -- and their seven assorted kids who live in the three separate houses with a communal backyard, where much of the action takes place. Bill owns three Home Depot-like building centers where he likes to walk around, explaining how prescient he was in adding a gardening department.

Roman spends so much time at Bill's place of business you wonder why they don't just throw an apron on him and have him start selling those windows with the mini-blinds built between the panes. He's clearly bored at the compound, which is populated by, well, people who want to live in a compound. Plus, all his wives dress like gift-shop employees at Disney's Frontierland.

Bill's wives' lives consist of taking care of kids, cooking, cleaning and dreamily waiting for "their night" with Bill, who has to take little blue pills to please them all. Sometimes the family has friends in for a rousing night of bridge -- like Bill's manager who sports a brush cut and STILL has multiple wives. The men discuss Bill's return to organized religion as well as the righteousness of polygamy. Then they talk about marrying more wives.

The mix of womanly obedience, endless desire for Bill, incessant kid duty, all held together by a faith that appears to benefit one gender makes the show seem both dated and modern. Dated in its depiction of postwar housewife life, and modern because I think if HBO doesn't work out they could run it on Spike TV as "The Suburban Man Show." There is an attempt to portray this show as edgy and odd, like "Six Feet Under," except there is nothing edgy or odd about a male fantasy of having an agreeable harem.

However, despite the dullness of the show, and of Bill, my epiphany had to do with understanding his stress in trying to please and care for all his wives and children because I, too, live in a "Big Love" situation, only mine is with pets. The two rats want out of their cage so they can play with me. The two dogs want me to throw the ball until my arm falls off. And the cat demands I pet him into a stupor. None of these guys are the least bit concerned with my need to work to keep them all in kibble -- it's just love me! love me! all the time.

I wasn't initially sold on "Big Love" because of its unironic, nonsatirical depiction of a lifestyle that, if I might speak plainly, is pretty much the dirt end of the stick for women. There is no humor, no social commentary. Then, with the "Viagra Blue" episode, as Bill was being pulled in three directions by his wives' demands, I thought, "Yes! I too have too many wives, er, pets! And they too want all of me, all the time! Whatever I do, it's never enough! Never enough attention, or people food!" Although it's tiring being the "man" to my pets, it's better than being the pets. And that, I believe, says pretty much all there is to say about "Big Love."

Portland novelist Whitney Otto, author of, most recently, "A Collection of Beauties at the Height of their Popularity," is not looking for any young new animals to add to her harem -- unless one has a brush cut.