Either everyone on television has become too impossibly good-looking in recent years, or I’m going to have to reconsider my opinion of Buddy Ebsen. As much as I love “Lost,” I never cease to marvel at the miraculous coincidence of so many gorgeous people having been on the same doomed flight from Sydney to Los Angeles. (Maybe it will turn out they’re all part of a conspiracy to begin a new society of genetically superior beings.) And so it is with “The L Word,” a gathering of lovely lesbians in Los Angeles who are all endlessly attracted to one another because, hey, who wouldn’t be? A phenomenon once the exclusive domain of the daytime soaps – casting models as actors and actresses, and praying they don’t embarrass themselves – has become a staple of primetime. It’s a slippery slope.

Still, there’s a fair amount to enjoy in the second season of “The L Word,” which begins this Sunday at 10 p.m. – even if it is hard to tell your lesbians without a program. They all have names like Kim or Dana, hair straight out of a Pantene commercial, and the emotional maturity of a second-grader. Despite a scene-by-scene plot summary from Showtime and a pause button permanently handy, I still had trouble distinguishing these lovelies from one another. Was Bette dating Dana? Was Shane into Carmen? Which one was Jenny again? I found “The Fountainhead” easier to follow than “The L Word.”

The basic premise of the second season seems remarkably similar to the first: Everyone is either getting into or out of some deeply complicated romantic entanglement. There’s a fair amount of necking, ogling, and commiserating in each of the first six episodes Showtime made available. (Oh, and by the way, I can report with complete certainty that “The L Word” doesn’t improve when watched as a day-long marathon; it turns out those week-long intervals make excellent sense.) As with most soap operas, the only noticeable shift has been in who’s sleeping with whom, or who’s ogling whom, or who’s cheating on whom. And when you’re as busy as I was catching up on which brunette was which, it starts not to matter.

Which may, in fact, be the point. “The L Word” has become a cult hit among academics and literary critics. This is eye candy of the first order, and there’s a flavor for every taste. I think we’re supposed to believe that Shane – the shaggy haired hairdresser – is the most beautiful of the bunch. Every time she walks into a crowded room, it’s like there’s a religious halo around her head; everyone stares in erotic adulation, and within minutes she’s making out with the hottest girl in the room. Jenny, the writing student with soulful eyes and long legs who has fully embraced her lesbian tendencies this season, seems to be running a close second this season in the who’s-that-girl sweepstakes.

I don’t want to ruin the plot twists in store for those who consider each week’s “L Word” a quasi-religious experience, but suffice to say that Kelly Lynch’s guest appearances will surprise and provoke anyone who finds sexual confusion fascinating. Less scintillating star turns from Camryn Manheim, the rock group Betty, and Melissa Rivers are on the docket as well. It’s odd to see a series that brings in other actresses to add a dose of reality and humanism to an otherwise unreal world.

If nothing else, I’m glad that “The L Word” gives Showtime something to brag about. They’ve got the sexiest cast on cable, at least among shows that air before 3 a.m. And there’s the semblance of a story to give its audience an excuse to watch. I wouldn’t put “The L Word” in a category with any of pay cable’s other successful sexy formulas – “Sex and The City” had way more to say about women and relationships – but it’s watchable and fun. I’m not sure it says anything at all about lesbians except that people with cable boxes like to watch them. But that, apparently, is enough.

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Another excessively good-looking human on television is David Muir, an ABC News reporter who has been showing up a lot lately on “Good Morning America.” Mr. Muir is a well spoken reporter who happens to look like he just disembarked from a surfboard. He’s been doing a lot of ABC’s weather coverage (I caught some of his hurricane reporting from Florida and a mudslide piece from California) and found him engaging and smart. But let’s face it, if he looked like Paul Giamatti, he’d still be at home in his pajamas, sending out resumes. It’s not news that the television business rewards the most attractive among us. But sometimes it’s a little startling just how handsome some of these newsboys have become. Am I old-fashioned in wanting to hear my bad news from someone who comprehends human misfortune firsthand? I doubt even a hurricane could muss Mr. Muir’s lovely hair.