A ribald comedy about the madcap adventures of three zany roommates and their crazy neighbors.
That's the description that formed in my sleepy head at 4 a.m. when I watched the opening credits.
There was a time this show seemed so, well...risque. Keep in mind that even though I grew up during the sexual revolution, most of my early tv viewing consisted of innocent family comedies where married couples slept in separate beds. (Well, until Mike and Carol Brady. But they always had kids running in and out of their bedroom, so it's no wonder the only thing they seemed to do in there at night was read.) Three's Company was a complete departure from the other sitcoms I'd seen. Just in case you missed it (then, or now in reruns on TV Land) the premise was that two girls and a guy decided to share an apartment, but could only get approval from the old-fashioned landlord if the guy pretended to be gay. He was definitely straight. When he wasn't trying to deceive the clueless landlord he was at the local bar, The Regal Beagle, trying to pick up women. The show pushed the boundaries of the day, but it was all talk. I don't remember ever seeing even a hint that anybody was actually having sex. (Maybe it was more like The Brady Bunch than I thought.)
In hindsight, it was tame. And lame. And I loved it. But some things never change. Larry still gives me the creeps.