Season Two, Episode Eighteen: Ex and the City

The Summary:

Oh my goodness, it's the season finale. However did we get here??? I feel like it was but yesterday that I was telling you about how Carrie was dating a fetching Yankees player and we were pondering whether or not all straight men were freaks. (My answer is still no on that one, by the way. And I still retain the fervent hatred of the Yankees which my parents instilled in me from my infancy onwards, as well, in case you're interested. [Ducks to avoid any and all objects thrown at self by angry Yankeephiles.])

All right, so, why don't we start at the Least Interesting part of this episode, and then creep ever closer to the Least Least Interesting part of this episode, as we proceed? (I ask you if this plan seems suitable, of course, but since it's my blog, I fear that I shall arrange my summaries purely according to my own whims, even if you feel this is a very unwise/undesirable organizational schema. My apologies.)

All right, so, without further ado... I present:

The #1 Least Interesting Story Line in This, Our Season Finale: And the winner is... the one belonging to Miss Charlotte York! Give that girl a round of tepid applause! Turns out, Charlotte used to love going horseback riding when she was a girl. (Charlotte, engaging in an activity historically reserved for aristocratic lasses who have wealthy folks? You shock me.) But then she got thrown from a horse this one time, and never, ever rode again. So, she has decided to face her fear and get back in the saddle. [Insert obligatory, heavy-handed metaphors about how "getting back on the horse" literally can also mean "getting back on the horse" figuratively, in terms of taking risks in love after having been gravely wounded in the past, here.] She hits some bumps in the road, but by the end of the episode is happily cantering around Central Park. Happy for her and all, but still... not really all that interested. Pretty horse, though!

The #2 Least Interesting Story Line In This, Our Season Finale: Ms. Samantha Jones, come on down, the prize is yours! So Samantha picks up a handsome gent on the street. It must be her lucky day! Except... turns out, it's not, as said handsome gent is so very, very generously endowed that sleeping with him proves to be a daunting prospect/downright impossible proposition even for the intrepid Sam. She gives it a few tries, but, finding it all too logistically difficult, asks the handsome gent if they can try giving being just friends a shot, instead. Since we never see him again, I'm guessing their proposed friendship works out no better than their would-be trysting did. Buh-bye, Handsome Gent Who Is Rather Dehumanizingly Referred as a "Stallion" About Fifty Times Over the Course of the Episode!

The #3 Least Interesting Story Line in This, Our Season Finale: Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for... Miranda Hobbes, Esq.! Miranda's plot line is pretty interesting, actually--interesting, that is, if you have yet more stomach for the writers jerking you around by shoving one of our heroines back with a man she had previously dated earlier in the series. Which, given that this is Miranda and Steve (yay, Steve!) we're talking about, rather than Carrie and Big (boooo, Big)... I, for one, do!

So, Miranda sees Steve on the street, and rather than stopping and chit-chatting, Miranda flees (literally... as in... runs) from the awkwardness of having to see/deal with Steve/the memory of their painful break-up. (Miranda, explaining said behavior to her friends: "What are we supposed to talk about, the weather? The man has been inside of me, for God's sake.") Steve stops by her apartment to reproach her for said behavior, and Miranda breaks into teary admissions that seeing him is just too hard for her to cope with, since she misses having him in her life so much. He suggests that they be friends. Hmmm. I can't see where this is heading, at all.

But perhaps you, clever reader, are quicker on the uptake than I. Perhaps you have already guessed that their friendship quickly segues into them not so much embodying the ideals of Plato as it does them sleeping together? If so--give yourself a star, you are dazzlingly insightful, as ever! Soooo, in the wake of said sleeping together, are Miranda and Steve still just friends? Friends with benefits? Going to give dating another shot? They don't know! We don't know! And... end season. A nice puzzle for us to, er, puzzle over in Season Three...

The #4 Least Interesting Story Line in This, Our Season Finale: Prepare yourself for the least surprising victory in the history of BOCS' "Least Interesting Story Line" Contests, as the lady with the least least interesting story line is... one Ms. Carrie Bradshaw! I will add a twist of the unexpected to the mix, however, by noting that although Carrie's story line here centers around Big, I actually do not hate it! Amazing!

All right, so, Carrie has been thinking a lot about whether or not she might be able to be just friends with Big. (All together now: "NO. YOU. CAN'T. Did someone replace your breakfast cereal this morning with crack or what, woman???") She calls him to suggest that they give friendship a shot. He agrees. They are having a lovely "isn't it delightful being just friends?" brunch, when it emerges that Big is engaged to his new, 26-year-old girlfriend Natasha, whom he has known for a mere handful of months. Of course he is.

Faced with such news, Carrie unsurprisingly (as the kids like to say nowadays--or as they liked to say in my day, anyway) completely loses her shit, upbraiding Big in the middle of the restaurant in a "not-lovely-friendship-brunch-time" voice for refusing to commit to her for two bloody years, and then proposing to some 12-year-old he's just met. She then storms out of the restaurant. [Blogger, sitting at home on her couch, mimes opening a bottle of champagne, and subsequently toasting the vacant air with her imaginary glass.]

Big subsequently calls Carrie to apologize for dropping this Engagement Bomb on her so abruptly. Carrie accepts said apology. Big subsequently invites her to attend his and Natasha's engagement brunch. (What is it with these people and brunch???) Your move, Bradshaw! She declines to go to the actual event (good girl), but walks by the venue (The Plaza, of course--beloved venue for shotgun engagement events for the rich and famous throughout the ages!), and bumps into Big. Of course she does.

Swallowing hard, she asks him why it ended up being Natasha, and not her, who got the engagement brunch (as opposed to the "I am going to tell you that I am engaged to someone else" brunch, which--not as much fun, even if the food looks just as tasty.) Big says it was just too hard being with Carrie, and that being Natasha is just sooooo pleasant and easy. Of course he does.

Carrie then has an epiphany--the problem with Big wasn't that she somehow "wasn't enough" for him, it was rather that she was too much for him--too independent, too complicated, too challenging--for a bloke looking for a lady cut from a much more soothingly traditional, "I will happily defer to your wishes at all times" cloth.

Musing that one day she'll find a man who will delight in her complexity rather than be terrified by it, Carrie turns her back on Big and WALKS AWAY FROM HIM. Halle-bloody-lujah. (Don't you dare even think about the Big plot lines which await us in Season Three, people, this is my happy time, will you not allow me one brief moment of joy???)

The Analysis:

Person of Color Watch: The hostess who seats Carrie and Big at their fancy-pants "we are just friends, please observe how friendly we are, oh my goodness, I hate you, who tells their ex-girlfriend they are engaged to someone else out of the blue, in public, anyway???" brunch, is African-American. So she quasi-counts for our tally--physically present, but with no meaningful lines/role in the episode... and of course, represented not as a peer and fellow diner at the restaurant, but rather as a member of the staff. Lovely.

Friendship Between Women and Men: Impossible? Watch: In the ladies' discussion about whether or not Carrie and Big can be friends (which... why is this even a discussion??? An inanimate carbon rod could tell you that they can't, for Pete's sake)/straight women and straight men can be friends in general, Samantha declares that "women are for friendships, men are for fucking." (Awwww, can I get a pillow with that embroidered on it for my next birthday? So touching!)

And in many ways, this episode seems to bear out the accuracy of this statement--Carrie and Big: cannot be just friends. (SEE, I TOLD YOU SO.) Miranda and Steve: cannot be just friends. Butttttt - I don't think that we are actually lost too deep in the thicket of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" style malarkey where we have so often lost ourselves in before. Carrie and Big can't be friends, not because straight women and straight men (even straight women and straight men who once dated) are constitutionally incapable of so being, but because Big is pretty much incapable of being anyone's friend. You can be his exasperated ex-girlfriend or his dewy child bride (I pick option one, I pick option one!), but his friend... no.

And Miranda and Steve can't be just friends, because their feelings for one another are actually quite a bit messier and more complicated than simple friendship allows for. Fair enough! Such things happen, to be sure, both in the world of fiction and the world beyond it. I'll allow it.

And so if I am the judge in the case of "Do the Writers Need to Be Slapped Smartly Upside the Head for Irritatingly Suggesting That Heterosexual Women and Heterosexual Men Are Either Dating/Sleeping Together/Married, Or Rightly Have Nothing Whatsoever to Do With One Another?", I rule in favor of the writers. (I know, for once, in my life.) But only for the purposes of this episode, mind you, after this... all bets are off!

Ambiguity and Untidiness, Let Me Enfold You in My Arms and Press You Close to My Heart, For I Love You So, Watch: So... I actually really like this episode, and I am not offended by it in any meaningful way. (I know, what is going on with me?) One of the things which I really like about said episode is that it (much as the Season One season finale did) defies the conventions of romantic comedy, and ends with our heroines not neatly paired off, nor with their lives neatly resolved, but rather with them all complex-ly in flux. And goodness knows I love me some flux.

Now, I heart Jane Austen's novels as much as the next raging Anglophile with a nineteenth-century bonnet fetish, but doesn't it get a bit monotonous that they allll end in weddings for allll of their significant female characters? And I don't mean to single out Aunt Jane alone here--the majority of narratives about heterosexual women's romantic lives (past, present, and likely future) tend to end with our heroine happily settled down with The Right Man, and embarking on a pleasant life of Happily-Ever-After... after which we never see nor hear from her again.

Perhaps this explains why I am so pleased that for many a season, SATC resisted this push to tie things up in a neat, conventional bow for its audience, instead showing our heroines having learned, grown, changed, about to embark on a new, intriguing phase in their lives... but not necessarily paired off. Indeed, oftentimes (in the case of Carrie, especially) actually having newly made their peace with the fact that they are not paired off.

Now, I am aware that a large part of this desire to leave loose threads a'hanging at the end of each season is less "let us subvert dominant narratives about women's romantic lives!" and more "we need to hook viewers to come back for the next season! I want to buy that second boat, dammit!!!" But still... I find it quite pleasing.

SATC in some ways certainly follows the fairy tale model of story-telling, to be sure (especially as the series progresses), but it also subverts it in some intriguing ways... among these, making these heroines' story arcs less Jane Austen than they are Real Life. Miranda doesn't know where things with Steve will go... maybe they'll become a couple again, maybe they won't--she's just going to have to take that one one messy step at a time. Carrie doesn't know where her life is headed next... except that it is away from the toxic mess that is Men Who Treat Her Badly. And I'm much happier with this ambiguous "let's just see where life takes us, trusting in ourselves, our friends, and the hope of a love which does not crush our spirits and blight our lives" ending than I am with the typical "let me run through an airport to propose to you in the last five minutes of the film, to be shortly followed by a wedding montage during the credits" type narrative one sees, alas, all too often in Romantic-Comedy-Ville.

Pat Field, Sometimes You Make Me So Happy With The Clothes You Pick Out Watch: And in that whole "SATC disrupting conventional romantic narratives/expectations/imagery" vein, I feel compelled to note that Carrie wears a white dress to her "I'm not coming in, I just wanted to take a moment to feel relieved that it's not me who's about to marry you" drop-by of Big's engagement party. WHITE DRESS, people. What better way to say "Although playing with the traditional iconography of brides, weddings, and marital bliss, I stand here as an unmarried lass, pleased that I am not marrying a man incapable of loving me, or anyone," after all? The sartorial symbolism there might be about as subtle as a sledgehammer, but still... love. It.

Notable Quotables: Miranda, musing on the different ways in which ladies handle their ex-boyfriends: "I would love to be one of those people who's all 'We loved, you enriched my life, now go, prosper!', but I'm much more 'We didn't work out, you need to not exist.' "

Carrie, walking away from her run-in with Big at his engagement brunch, reflecting on why things went wrong betwixt the two of them: "Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free, until they find someone, just as wild, to run with." Sweet cracker sandwich, that may be as cheesy as Velveeta, but I adore it, nonetheless.

Next Up...?: We take stock of Season Two before diving head first into Season Three. How many queer characters of note were there in Season Two, you ask? What were the charming high points and dreary low points of Season Two, you inquire? What ought we to make of Season Two in the final analysis, you demand? Return to me on Friday, and these (and all other questions not actually asked by you, but rather by me, pretending to be you) shall be surely be answered!

Season Two, Episode Seventeen: Twenty-Something Girls vs. Thirty-Something Women

The Summary:

So, if one of the great divides of the universe (chocolate vs. vanilla, city vs. country, paper vs. plastic, New Jersey vs. the rest of the bloody world, etc.) is twenty-something girls vs. thirty-something women, where does that leave me, as a lass who (in 11 short months) will be crossing over from one state of being to another? Will I suddenly have to detest all of my twenty-something friends? Will my next blog have to be about the show thirtysomething (which I have never seen, and have little interest in ever seeing, as it sounds quite drearily anti-feminist--"Career women are bitter messes! All women ought to find fulfillment in domesticity!" Mercy, what a fresh and original argument THAT one is!)? Hmmm. I suppose we shall just have to wait and see!

But why am I talking about me? Who cares about my 29-year-old self, after all? My own personal perplexities are neither here nor there. Let us turn, then, to the perplexities of our four glamorous, fictional, officially 30-something Leading Ladies.

So, Carrie is pondering the whole 20-something vs. 30-something divide, in part because somewhere along the line she has acquired an extremely dedicated 20-something fan, Laurel, who follows her hither and thither and yon with worshipful puppy-dog eyes. Laurel wants to be a writer, you see, and earnestly (annoyingly, relentlessly) asks for Carrie's guidance about pursuing The Writing Life. Laurel hopes to write a book about 20-something women who have decided to stay virgins until they get married (of which number she is one.)

Gobsmacked by Laurel's virginity and annoyed by her hero worship, Carrie is nonetheless feeling quite benevolent towards women in their 20s... until she sees one (Natasha by name) at a party with (brace yourself for our rare and precious Chris-Noth-Free-Interlude to come crashing to an end)... Big. Turns out, Big met Natasha in Paris! Turns out, Big started dating Natasha in Paris! Turns out, Big is now permanently back from Paris, it seems on Natasha's behalf! Carrie... is not pleased. By which I mean, she throws up after seeing them together. Oh, Big. How I have not missed you! (Jon Bon Jovi may have been a sociopath, but at least he never made Carrie vomit. Also, I feel that he is prettier.)

Anyway, leaving Carrie poised on the brink of yet another Big Disaster, let us turn to the other ladies. Miranda... has nothing going on in this episode. She wears a cute barette in her hair at one point, I seem to recall. And... that's about it! Charlotte starts dating Greg, who is (get ready to be shocked), it transpires, is 26. And Charlotte is, of course, a positively ancient 33. So of course, the other ladies cannot stop harping on how much younger than her he is, how she is cradle-robbing, how it is sooooo odd and inappropriate that she is dating this mere boy, etc. Perhaps in part because of this "unhand his young flesh, thou vile, aged hag!" rhetoric, Charlotte lies about her age, pretending Greg that she is a marginally dewier 27--and is of course promptly punished for said lie, as Greg gives her crabs (one), and dumps her (two.) That'll teach her to dabble with mere children, now, won't it???

While Charlotte is off getting infected and humiliated (did she somehow wander into a Miranda plotline in this episode, or what?), Samantha is totally annoyed by her erstwhile assistant, Nina, who has set up a rival P.R. firm (although she is but a mere slip of a 20-something girl), which initially seems to be quite successful/threatening to the success of Sam's very own P.R. firm. Said annoyance/threat does not last long, however, since Nina's utter cluelessness and raging hubris leads to an event which she has planned collapsing into utter disaster... until Sam steps in to save the day. After which Sam very helpfully introduces Nina to the Crab-Ridden Greg, suggesting to them that they are a match made in heaven. 20-something girls, take note--mess with Ms. Samantha Jones' friends, and she will totally give you V.D.!

The Analysis:

Virgins Are Necessarily Either Tragic or Comic? Watch: So, in this episode, the writers definitely play the 25-year-old Laurel's assertion that she's decided to remain a virgin until marriage for laughs. Oh, how amusing and bizarre she is, this clueless young girl who is oddly attached to the god Hymen! Carrie also lumps Laurel's decision to stay a virgin into the whole "20-something girls deserve our sympathy and pity, because they are so patently, ineptly unable to run their own lives" conclusions which she draws about the differences between lasses in their 20s and ladies in their 30s in the episode. Hmmmm.

I'm not so fond of this whole Comic/Tragic Virgin angle, as it rather unpleasantly mirrors some attitudes which I've run into in my students--one semester, we were reading Jessica Valenti's The Purity Myth (it is so much fun, do read it if you have not done so already--she discusses abstinence clowns, for Pete's sake, how can one resist such nuttiness?), and the students got into a discussion about the ever-popular topic of "Virginity and the Young Woman of Today."

During said discussions, several students (both female and male) voiced the opinion that for a lass to be a virgin past a certain age was rather tragic and sad. Ummm, don't the ladies know that the gentlemen want a girl with a certain amount of experience when it comes to sexual matters? (On that theme, please take note of the following: 1) ladies who sleep with other ladies--DO NOT EXIST, 2) gentlemen--are more interested in how many items ladies have in their Sexual Bag of Tricks than they are in the content of their hearts/minds/spirits, and will find a virginal lass hopelessly gauche and unappealing, and 3) ladies who are virgins are clearly entirely disconnected from any real or meaningful sexuality.) And don't they know that losing your virginity is one of the ways that you know that you've officially become a real adult? ("Driver's license? Check. Ability to vote to determine the future leaders of our country? Check. V-Card disposed of? Check. Now if only I could rent a car/binge drink legally...")

That attitude troubled me at the time, and it troubles me to see it here. Because rather than being a sad, foolishly naive, lost young soul, Laurel actually seems quite happily in control of her body and her life here. The writers mock her Virgin Self, but somehow, she manages to riggle out of their grasp to become a more interesting person than I think they intended her to be. Carrie greets Laurel's comfortable assertion that she's still a virgin by choice with bafflement and contempt, and as an audience I suspect that we are supposed to sympathize with her in said feelings ("Virgins over the age of 21! And here I thought that that two-headed calf I saw at a state fair once was wacky!", etc.), but I personally am signing onto Team Laurel rather than Team Carrie here.

Because Laurel is clearly happy with her life and her decisions--yes, she's desired men in the past, but she wants to be in love with and committed to a gent before she sleeps with him/with anyone. She's clearly not judgmental or preachy/of the "women who have sex with men who are not their husbands are akin to used tissues" stamp--she loves Carrie's column, and is clearly unfazed by its un-virginal content, she's just doing what she wants to do, for her own personal, individual self.

And as I tried to discuss with my students (with what success, I cannot say... I did still get some "In The Purity Myth, Jessica Valenti encourages all girls to be sluts"-type papers, which... sigh) ... isn't the whole point, when it comes to the ladies and their sexuality (and anyone and their sexuality, for that matter), that provided that they are treating themselves and others with respect, and doing/not doing what they genuinely want to do/not do (not doing/refraining from doing anything because of partner or social pressure/cultural expectations) that we should not care in the least what they are up to or not up to, or judge them for what they choose to do or not do? I reckon that that applies just as strongly to the sex which women choose not have as it does to the sex which women choose to have.

I'd like to see us build a world in which women don't get judged for being too sexual, or not sexual enough, or sexual in the "wrong" way. I'd like all girls and women to have the chance to live in a world where they could feel free to pursue their own desires without shame, reproach, or judgment. I'd like to see our world transformed into one in which men didn't point fingers at women/women didn't point fingers at other women for making decisions about their sexual lives which don't fit comfortably into the conventional, expected mould. I'd like to see a world in which there isn't a "right way" or a conventional, expected mould, at all. So... let's get on that, people!

The Age Gap, Er, Gap, How Annoying It Is Watch: So, in addition to Virgin-Gate, the thing that annoys me the most about this episode (apart from Big being back, which--boo, hiss) is the fact that Carrie, Miranda, and Samantha talk so much about the VAST AGE GAP which exists between Charlotte and Greg. In that... he is seven years her junior. Ummm, wait. Isn't that Big over there? Big, who is 43, and dated the 33-year-old Carrie but a short time ago? And... is dating a 26-year-old lass now? And... somehow that is not a vast and unbridgeable gap, but Charlotte dating a 26-year-old is shocking? I know that we've seen this charmless double standard in the series before, and rest assured, gentle reader, that we shall see it again. Oh, charmless double standards. Why must you cling to me as tenaciously as rancid gum to a shoe/as Big to the SATC franchise?

Next Up...?: Our season finale, "Ex and the City." Oh my goodness, have we really made it to the end of Season Two already??? Such excitement! The title of the episode might give you some sense of where we're headed here... exes of all kinds abound--Big is back! (Once again, boo, and hiss.) Steve is back! (Yay, a straight male character who is actually nice!) And Charlotte has some baggage with a horse whom she once loved to grapple with. (Not to worry, no Catherine the Great parallels will be necessary at any point, I promise you...)

Season Two, Episode Sixteen: Was It Good For You?

The Summary:

Okay, so, to recap, since breaking up with Big [pauses for a moment to be smug that Carrie is, indeed, still broken up with Big], Carrie has dated 1) JON BON BLOODY JOVI (whom, it transpired, was an emotionally stunted sex addict--bummer), 2) The Beeper King from 30 Rock (whom, it transpired, had nothing of any interest whatsoever to say for himself--double bummer), and 3) an egomaniacal writer who had already played a different egomaniacal writer earlier in the series (whom, it transpired, was no more desirable in Season Two than he had been in Season One--triple bummer.)

So, continuing in the vein of dating undesirable gentleman, in this episode, Carrie commences dating Patrick, a recovering alcoholic whom his sponsor doesn't think is ready to date yet. Excellent, what could possibly go wrong there!

Lots of things, clever reader, as your sharp self will already be aware. Turns out, that Patrick rapidly becomes addicted to Carrie, compulsively insisting that they have sex morning, noon, and night. He also declares his love for her after they've known each other less than a month. I see. Nothing creepy there, then! Unsettled by this behavior, Carrie breaks up with him, which causes him to fall off the wagon, get blindingly drunk, and roam around her neighborhood sans pants. (Hmmm, not sure if that ranks above Soulless Jon Bon Jovi, or not.) Keep up the good work, Carrie! (And for the record, Patrick happily does get back into AA at the end of the episode. Keep up the good work, Patrick!)

Miranda... buys new sheets for her bed. Seriously, that is all she does. They are a pretty shade of peach, but... I still don't care. Apart from New Sheets Happiness, the only other thing going on in Hobbes Land is Miranda getting ritualistically humiliated at a tantric sex workshop at the end of the episode. Naturally. But we shall get to that anon, I can't quite face it yet.

So let's talk about Samantha first. Two of her friends, gay couple David and David, have decided they'd like to do a threesome with a woman, and ask Sam to be that very lass. Sam agrees, and all is going swimmingly until David and David come face to face (literally) with Sam's Lady Area, and decide that, on reflection, they would prefer not to proceed. Sam is humiliated, devastated, offended. Which is the only reason why she allows herself to get dragged to...

... the tantric sex workshop that Charlotte has signed herself and the other three ladies up for! See, Charlotte is dating a gent who fell asleep while they were having sex, and is freaking out about her (perceived lack of) sexual skills. As such, she signs up for the aforementioned workshop, handily entitled "How to Please a Man." Sigh. Of course it is. At the workshop, 1) Carrie and Samantha giggle ceaselessly, like sixth graders watching a sex ed video, 2) Charlotte intently scribbles pages and pages and pages of notes while wearing a very fetching HEADBAND, and 3) the workshop leader's husband, on whom she demonstrates some of the techniques, ejaculates in such a way that his gentlemanly essences end up all over Miranda. Oh, writers. You are so darned mean!!!

The Analysis:

Thank You, Samantha Jones, for Saying Exactly What I Was Thinking: When Sam is telling Carrie about the proposed threesome with herself, David, and David, Carrie dismisses the idea as absurd and ridiculous, because, of course, gay men would never, ever in a million years have any interest in or desire for a woman. Listening to these declarations, Samantha tells Carrie, "You know, for a sex columnist, you have a very limited view of sexuality." Ding ding ding, I do believe we have a winner!

Carrie's flat, "people's desires remain flat and rigidly fixed along the lines of sexual orientation, which, yes, I know is actually socially constructed rather than defined in absolute and unchanging terms which remain constant across all eras and cultures, but I DON'T CARE, GAY IS GAY" deserves a little bit of pushback here, and I am glad that Sam does, indeed, push back against it. Because, as we shall see more of anon, Carrie does, indeed, have a very limited view of sexuality--the episode where she dismisses bisexuality as an annoying trend indulged in by bored youngsters being one particularly grating example. [Grinds teeth together in a un-dentist-approved way at the mere memory/in anticipation of same.]

Of course, the episode does ultimately side with Carrie on this one--it's Carrie, who asserts that gay men will inevitably be repelled by the female body BECAUSE THAT'S JUST HOW ALL GAY MEN ARE, WITHOUT EXCEPTION, rather than Samantha, who makes the case for the potential fluidity of human sexuality, who wins out in the end. Because, of course, the Davids are turned off the whole idea of sleeping with Sam the instant they see her vagina.

Now, I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with the Davids deciding that they don't want to go through with the threesome/deciding once they got into it that they were all for the fantasy of sleeping with a lady, but not the reality. But I am a leetle disappointed that the writers chose to go this "eeeewww, lady parts!" route. Maybe I've just read too many Dan Savage columns where he goes on and on about how gross vaginas are, and how gay men are waaaaaay too smart to get anywhere near one of those suckers. (So that's good, giving, game, and vagina-phobic, Mr. Savage? Good, glad we cleared that up.)

I also wish that the writers hadn't reinforced the whole "yes, Carrie is right, people's sexual desires inevitably remain firmly fixed in place throughout their entire lifetimes, without fail and without exception, and if you think otherwise, then you deserve to be humiliated" idea. Boo, I say, and additionally--hiss.

LGBT Folks Watch: So of course, David and David are gay. ("Gay as pink suede," as Carrie puts it which... for the love of Pete. Give yourself a time out, Ms. Bradshaw. Go sit in the corner with your dunces' cap on, facing the wall.) And though I'm a little troubled by the "eeeewww, girls' girl parts are GROSS" angle of their storyline, on the whole, I think the writers do a decent job with the Davids. They're clearly a couple who communicate well with and respect one another--they are never anything less than loving with, attentive to, and thoughtful concerning, one another. I'll take it!

"How to Please Your Man," This Almost Isn't Worth Writing About, It is So Blatantly Annoying Watch: So, at the end of the episode, we see Charlotte putting her new tantric skills into operation on her "I Swear I Only Closed My Eyes for a Minute, I Wasn't So Much Asleep as I Was Resting" lover. He is made very happy. Charlotte is made very happy, too... by watching him be made very happy. What about her own sexual satisfaction, you ask? Ummmm... who cares? She has learned to please her man, and surely for the ladies, this is pleasure enough. [Wraps self up in a warm, fleecy blanket for comfort, in the face of this cold, cruel world.]

Maybe Not All Middle-Aged People Are Repulsive Individuals Who Should Remain Celibate Regardless of Whether or Not They Wish to Do So Watch: So you may recall that a couple of episodes ago, I found it rather distasteful that the writers implied that the idea of middle-aged people who were not perfectly toned and conventionally gorgeous being sexual beings was, like, totally icky. It seems that they heard me (um, from the year 2000, somehow...), because the couple who run the tantric sex workshop are middle-aged... an attractive pair, but not implausibly, Hollywood-ly type stunning, and they clearly still have a happy and active sex life. (I could wish that same was not happening all over Miranda, but still, on the whole... I'll take it!)

Next Up...?: "Twenty-Something Girls vs. Thirty-Something Women" which, as a woman of 29, I am quite simply refusing to take sides on. I have enjoyed being a twenty-something (ahem) girl, and look forward to being a thirty-something woman. I'm so neutral I might as well be Switzerland, me!

Season Two, Episode Fifteen: Shortcomings

The Summary: Ah, people who fall short of things, let us analyze them!

So Carrie is dating Vaughn, a talented, if also rather self-impressed, writer (the actor who plays Vaughn also notably played the character Jared, a talented, if also rather self-impressed writer in Season One... holy type-casting, SATC!). Vaughn is all right, but his family is amazing--super-charming and funny and just generally delightful. Carrie lovvvvves them. She forms a particularly special bond with Vaughn's mum, Wallis (who is played by Valerie Harper of The Mary Tyler Moore fame. Shows About Single Gals Past, meet Shows About Single Gals, Um, More Recent Past!)

If only her bond with Vaughn was so strong. But alas, it is not. Turns out, he consistently suffers from what I believe the kids today call premature ejaculation (or maybe it's doctors who call it that, whatever--that's what it's called by somebody) and absolutely refuses to in any way discuss or work on said problem. After trying and failing several times to talk to Vaughn about said issue, Carrie breaks up with him. She doesn't care about that, so much, but she is sorry to break up with Wallis. There are tears. Awwwww. Buh-bye, Jared/Vaughn! Buh-bye, Wallis/Rhoda!

Miranda, meanwhile, is dating Roger, a divorced gent possessed of one very spoiled and irritating son. Things are going swimmingly until Miranda mistakenly slams a doorknob into Little Lord Fauntleroy's face (it is an accident, I promise, Miranda's hands are clean!) Roger is livid, and breaks up with Miranda on the spot. Buh-bye, Roger! Buh-bye, annoying (and by now bloodied) child!

Samantha and Charlotte's plotlines are actually intertwined in this episode, which makes my life soooo much easier. Thanks, ladies! Okay, so, Charlotte's brother, Wesley, who is in the midst of an ugly divorce, comes to visit her. Wesley (who is rather nice-looking) is getting a divorce in large part because his marriage is plagued by sexual dysfunction. Sam (who has a thing for rather nice-looking gentlemen, fleeing marriages plagued by sexual dysfunction) meets Wesley. Perhaps you can see where this is headed?

Samantha and Wesley have a tryst (in Charlotte's apartment, no less... classy!), and Charlotte is livid, in large part because since she wants her brother to reconcile with his wife, rather than sleep with her friends. Said lividness leads her to rather violently slut-shame Sam ("Is your vagina in the New York City guidebooks? Because it should be, it's the hottest spot in town, it's always open!") Yeouch. Samantha is hurt, and stops talking to Charlotte. Wesley is livid, and talks to Charlotte only to tell her that that was an awful thing to say to her friend. I am confused, and ask the universe in general in what world rational adults like Sam and Wesley would have trysted at Charlotte's apartment rather than at Sam's. I am sure that Dr. Freud would have mannnny things to say about that one.

Anyway. Charlotte apologizes to Samantha, and Samantha accepts said apology. A story with a happy ending, for once!

The Analysis:

LGBT Folks Watch: One of Vaughn's sisters, Franny, is a lesbian. Franny is young, white, conventionally beautiful, and always dressed like Sporty Spice when we see her. (Of course she is, the lesbian ladies do love their sports, as we know.) She brings a date with her to one of the family gatherings which Carrie attends, Jenna. Jenna is young, white, conventionally beautiful, and as conventionally feminine (long flowing hair, visible makeup, etc.) as Franny is emphatically sporty (track pants, sneakers, etc.) (Of course, the lesbian couples inevitably fall into this sporty-girly dyad all the time, as we know.) Sigh.

A Moment of Gender Essentialism, Of Course, There Always Is, How Wearisome For Us, Watch: When Miranda and Roger first start dating, he tells her that he's one of those "weird male aberrations who likes to be married." Please make a note: it is strange and unusual for a straight gent to wish to get hitched. If you are a straight gent who does, indeed, wish to get hitched, you need to apologize for this fact, and talk self-deprecatingly about how weird you are.

How does Miranda reply to this shocking confession, you ask? By telling Roger that he's the "heterosexual Holy Grail." Please make another note, below the first: it is strange and unusual for a straight lady not to wish to get hitched. All straight ladies are seeking those "weird male aberrations" like Roger who seek matrimony. Glad we cleared that up!

Realism vs. Idealization of Sex Watch:

Idealization: So, Realism, as you know, I very often have my way in/with this series. My wicked, wicked way.

Realism [glumly]: Yup, Idealization, I know. You're the Queen/King of the Hill.

Idealization [preening]: I mean, I know we haven't gotten there yet, but remember that episode in Season Four where Samantha boasts about always being able to come during penetrative sex? HA. That was one of my best moments. So patently detached from reality. Loved it.

Realism [even more glumly]: Yup, Id, that was a good day for you.

Idealization: And you know how the show so often shows its leading ladies forming effortless, perfect sexual connections with gents instantly and completely? I mean, take Carrie and Big... in Season Four (which yes, I know, I know, we haven't gotten to yet, but work with me) she says they've never had anything less than spectacular sex. HA. Because that doesn't set up a standard which no living couple could ever attain, or anything! [Sighs contentedly.] Gee, but I do love my work.

Realism: [longing for a drink]: Is there a point here, Id?

Idealization [uncharacteristically nicely]: I'm glad you reminded me, R, because I think this episode actually gives you a moment to shine, for a change.

Realism [perking up]: You don't say? What moment is that?

Idealization: Remember when the ladies are talking about Carrie and Vaughn's problems? In trying to musing about said problems, Carrie says, "The first time is always weird."

Realism: Wow. I must have missed that! Did she, really?

Idealization [beaming patronizingly]: She did! She actually conceded that in real life, sex is not usually effortlessly perfect right out of the gate--that it can actually be awkward, and take some time and negotiation and communication to work!

Realism [dazzled by its untypical victory]: WOW.

Idealization [not wanting Realism to get puffed up too much]: Just don't get too comfortable there, sparky. You may have won the battle, but I'm going to win the war. You may be Napoleon, but I'm Wellington. You may have Anne Bronte, but I'm Charlotte.

Realism: [leaves to go get that drink.]

Ummm, "Frigid," Seriously, What, Is This 1890, Should I Also Be On the Lookout for These New Horseless Carriages? Watch: In explaining to Charlotte why his marriage is beyond repair, Wesley tells her that his wife is "frigid." Seriously? Did I just hit my head and wake up in In the Next Room, or The Vibrator Play? Do we say things like "frigid" any more? Isn't "frigid" an antiquated term, which was primarily used in the early and mid twentieth centuries by stern Freudians wearing white coats to explain why ladies just couldn't settle into their marriages or to shame women who didn't fit normative definitions of sexuality? Isn't it, in most of its contemporary usage, pared with the word "bitch" to describe a lady who is withholding her favors from/failing to show interest in a gentleman? So in sum, Wesley--say that you and your wife were not sexually compatible. Say that you and your wife couldn't make your sex life work. But please don't call her frigid. I will only accept men calling women frigid if they are in a period film, and wearing frock coats as they do it. Thank you for your time and attention in this matter.

Are We Slut Shaming Sam, Or Are We Not? Watch:

Yes, We Are: Um, remember the part where Charlotte told Wesley that Sam "has some many notches on her bedpost, it's practically whittled down to a toothpick"? That sounds pretty darned slut-shame-y to me.

No, We Are Not: Um, yeah, but remember how clearly hurt Sam was by Charlotte's slut-shaming, and how the writers clearly wanted us to sympathize with Sam (who had had her friend be so mean to her) rather than Charlotte (who was so mean to her friend)?

Yes, We Are: Um, okay, but you can't tell me that all those comments about her whittling down her bedpost to a toothpick and her vagina as a popular tourist destination aren't meant to be punchlines? As in--"Ha ha, it's so funny that Sam is so slutttttty" punchlines. As in PUNCH-y punchlines.

No, We Aren't: Um, all right, I guess you do have a point there. Once again, we are playing Samantha's "looseness" for laughs. Yet... don't we reach a point by the end of the episode where we've learned a Very Special Lesson about being nasty and judgmental towards our friends' sexual decisions? As in... how that is a bad thing to do?

Yes, We Are: Um, yes, I guess that we have, I'll give you that. And can we agree that it is totally weird and inappropriate of Sam to not only sleep with Charlotte's brother (who is notably still married), but also to do so in Charlotte's apartment?

No, We Aren't: Um, totally. That is CRAZY.

Communication, Patience, All Other Things of Things Therapists Would Recommend Fully on Display, Excellent, Watch: I am actually quite pleased with the way that this episode handles the unraveling of the "Carrie/Vaughn-Or-Is-That-Jared-Stop-Casting-The-Same-Actors-In-Different-Parts-And-Thinking-I-Won't-Notice-SATC-People-I-Will-Notice" relationship. Carrie does everything she can to openly communicate with Vaughn about his, sigh, "shortcoming" (unlike Wesley, who probably just told his wife he thought she was frigid, adjusted his monocle, and marched off to hale a hansom cab.) She's not shaming, she's not blaming, she wants to make things work, and tries like the dickens to make things work. They don't work because Vaughn absolutely refuses to discuss the issue or even acknowledge the problem, and shuts down completely any time Carrie mentions it. So, Carrie--points for open communication and persistently seeking the sex life you want. Vaughn--no points for being too immature to respond in a grown-up way to such efforts.

Notable Quotables: Carrie, on her three bestest friends: "The most important thing in life is your family. There are days when you love them, and others when you don't. But in the end, they're the people you always come home to. Sometimes it's the family you're born into. And sometimes it's the family you make for yourself." Awwww.

Next Up...?: "Was It Good For You?", in which the ladies attend a tantric sex workshop (entitled "How to Please a Man"... sigh--because, pleasing yourself? Who the heck cares about that), and Carrie dates someone volatile and unstable. So pretty much... business as usual in the SATC Verse!

Season Two, Episode Fourteen: The Fuck Buddy

The Summary: Ah, buddies whom one happens to sleep with, let us consider them!

So Carrie, as we know, is continuing to recover from her break-up from Big. [Pauses once again to feel pleased that Carrie and Big are, indeed, broken up. Chris Noth certainly is pleasant to look at, but said pleasantness is considerably diminished all when can think about is punching him in his handsome noggin.] Part of said recovery includes reconnecting with John (notably played by Dean Winters, who had a memorable run on 30 Rock as Liz's dopey ex-boyfriend, Dennis. My guess is the gent is Phi Beta Kappa and plays chess in his spare time, so expert is he at playing dolts.)

As you may have already guessed, John is the fuck buddy of our title--the gent whom Carrie has always gone back to for pleasant diversion while waiting for/recovering from Great Love. Though... what if John himself was really the Great Love all along? (Rom com writers of the world, take note! I smell a plot a'brewing there!) Carrie decides to give actually dating the guy a whirl, and, predictably, it is a disaster. John is very sweet and all, but is also possessed of not too much in the way of intellectual vigor and nothing whatsoever in the way of humor. Alas. Buh-bye, John!

Noting that going back to John as a respite from romantic turmoil is her unceasing pattern, Carrie also muses on what the unceasing patterns of her friends are, when it comes to affairs of the heart/boudoir. Charlotte's, of course, is to never take the initiative with blokes, and to remain leery of even asking them out, for fear of seeming too "forward." But by golly, in this episode, Charlotte becomes determined to break away from this pattern and ask out every guy in the five boroughs--which, predictably, is a disaster. She double-books two dates in one night, and (as any sitcom writer from 1950-present could have told you), the aforementioned two dates end up finding about said double-booking, getting ticked, and promptly dumping Charlotte. Buh-bye, Guys Whom Charlotte Asked Out for the First Time in Her Life!

And what is Miranda's pattern, you ask? (Besides wearing really boxy, unflattering pantsuits--stylists of the show, we get it. Miranda is in a traditionally masculine profession. She possesses such stereotypically masculine attributes as being career-focused, aggressive, and liking sports. You don't need to actually dress her up in masculine clothing all the time for us to get the whole "Miranda is not conventionally feminine" thing. Your point=more than made.) Dating angry guys, of course! Current angry guy is fellow lawyer Kevin, who totally bugs Miranda by being unrelentingly bossy, harsh, domineering, and abrasive. Except when it comes to their Intimate Moments, that is, in which she greatly values and appreciates these qualities. Hmmm. Tricky. In the end, however, not even their Intimate Moments are enough to make up for Kevin's decidedly unpleasant personality and relentless angry pessimism. And so... buh-bye, Kevin!

Samantha's pattern, of being open to sexual experiences of all sorts, types, and descriptions, continues unabated, when she accepts an invitation to join her new neighbors (whose Intimate Moments she has been overhearing through her bedroom wall) for a threesome. Without... having met them, or knowing the first or last thing about them/what they have in mind for their night together. Seems perfectly safe to me!

She waltzes over to their apartment one night, dressed (or perhaps more accurately, undressed) to kill--but then quickly decides that moving forward is a bad idea. Because... maybe going into the home of people you know nothing about, with no one knowing where you are, isn't the smartest move in the world? Silly, common-sensical reader. Of course it's not that. It's because when she claps eyes on said neighbors, she finds that they are a middle-aged couple with "I do not go to the gym every day for five hours" type bodies. Um, ew. Unless you are under 40 and/or look like you stepped out of the pages of Self magazine, then the idea of you as a sexual being... totally. Gross. Buh-bye, couple who got so unceremoniously dumped by Sam!

The Analysis:

Non-Analytical Thing I Nonetheless Pointlessly Feel Compelled to Note: In this episode, both Carrie and Charlotte sport a succession of very pretty headbands. Since I got my hair cut short, I have become kind of obsessed with headbands. (It's like a smoker turning away from cigarettes to gum--I don't have clips anymore, people, I need something else!!!) I watched this episode with a friend (who had actually just helped me pick out a fetching new headband WITH FEATHERS ON IT), and the whole time we talked less about sexual politics, and more about how cute the headbands which Charlotte and Carrie were wearing were. So in conclusion--HEADBANDS. I love 'em.

ANYWAY. Back to solemn matters.

Obligatory Moment of Gender Stereotyping and Essentialism Watch: (You knew there would be one! There's always at least one! There is no escape!) So, what important lesson do we learn today from "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" Land? When the ladies are discussing Charlotte's decision to double-book two dates in one night, Samantha declares that Charlotte is "becoming a man." (Please pull out your notebook and pen and write down the following: "Men: inclined by nature to date more than one lady at the same time/towards sexual variety. Women: not so much. If they engage in such behaviors/exhibit such desires they are, in fact, 'becoming like men.' ")

Charlotte quickly follows her assertion that she intends to go on two dates in one night by wondering how on earth she's going to manage to eat two dinners in a row. (Carrie: "... and just like that, she was a woman again.") Please pull out that pen and paper again and inscribe the following onto the first blank page that you see: "Women: too delicate and lady-like to eat more than delicate, lady-like portions of food. They are just like little birds, little birds, I tell you! And a woman who might not express anxieties about excess food consumption--not a ladylike bird, but an unfeminine pig, of course." (You don't need to write this bit down, but please note that I am officially beyond the pale of femininity, because I would have nooooo trouble with that whole two-dinner scenario. I was a grad student for seven years, after all. I've learned to never look a gift-meal in the mouth.)

Sigh. I dislike both of these little moments of gender essentialism/stereotyping here, because they are both so wearily, drearily familiar--straight men are expected to go on the offensive and pursue more than one woman at a time (doing so, in fact, makes him more of a "man"), whereas for straight women to do precisely the same thing is both an anomaly and a problem. And something which Charlotte promptly gets punished for, as both of her dates ditch her as soon as they find out about her double-booking shenanigans. Sigh.

The whole "the idea of women consuming more than one salad a night is clearly ludicrously unfeminine" moment also sits badly with me, because it seems to underline the idea that women "naturally" don't have much an appetite for food--and that if they do, this, too, is an anomaly and a problem. Since the four actresses playing these characters are thin and Hollywood-toned, this whole "however will I manage to eat so much?" angle carries, I think, an extra layer of unpleasantness. I am much fonder of those rare and precious moments earlier in the series where we see Carrie gleefully tucking into a plate of spaghetti, or happily settling in with a bucket of popcorn--things which I am sure Sarah Jessica Parker has never done in her life, but still--I relish watching pop culture representations of women relishing their food. Which I guess means that I am becoming a man...?

Is There a Thread of Distastefulness Running Through the Fuck Buddy Concept, or Has Studying the Nineteenth Century for So Long Simply Turned Me Into a Victorian Prude? Watch: So, when Carrie tells her friends that she plans on actually dating John, rather than just sleeping with him, Sam shakes her head in consternation and wonders why Carrie would want to do something so foolish as to "take the only person who's in your life purely for sex and turn him into a person." Hmmmm. As soon as I heard that sucker, I wondered how I would feel if this was, say, Entourage (shudder), and this remark was made during a manly bout of manly man-talk, about a woman. Would I find said sucker offensive? Absa-bloody-lutely. The idea of men reducing women to sex objects? Not so fond of it. The idea of women reducing men to sex objects? Granted, this doesn't have the same layers and layers (and centuries and centuries) of accumulated "patriarchy gives men the right to sexually objectify and exploit women" crud caked on top of it, but still... not so fond of that, either.

So, does this make me a judgmental neo-Victorian in the Charlotte York mold? I do hope not. I think it's more how Sam talks about John than the actual dynamics between Carrie and John which I find troubling here. Because I think Carrie does think of John as a person, even before she starts dating him, and is solely sleeping with him. Theirs seems to be a fully mutually consensual, non-exploitative connection--it's not that John is pining for Carrie, and she's callously playing with his feelings, or vice versa. They both understand the scope (and limitations) of their connection, and are happy with them. And they treat each nicely, and respectfully, to boot. (Which is more than I can say for some of the men whom the ladies actually date, during the show...)

So to conclude--I am fine with how the show handles the Carrie-John plotline, not so fine with how the women actually talk about it. Repeat after me, ladies of SATC: "Objectifying men the way that men have traditionally had permission to objectify women--not so helpful/is giving me a stress headache."

People of Color Watch: The janitor whom Sam asks about her new neighbors, Jesus, is Hispanic. He has about three lines, all of which are delivered in halting English. Of course they are. None of that lazily confirms any stereotypes that I can think of, in the slightest.

Middle Aged People Are Icky Watch: What else don't I like about this episode, you ask? Clever reader, you probably already know from my summary. You are so sharp, nothing gets by you! I do not like the fact that Sam is so clearly repulsed by the not-thin, not-young, not-conventionally gorgeous couple whom she'd planned on having a threesome with. Now, I am all in favor of Sam backing out of this escapade. (Meet these people for coffee first, learn something about them prior to committing becoming unclothed and vulnerable in their home, and tell someone what you are up to, for the love of Pete, woman!!!) But I am not in favor of her backing out because, ick, people who are not Hollywood-gorgeous are obviously gross and unsexy.

I'm not saying she (or any of us) has an obligation to be attracted to or interested in sleeping with any one group in general or any one person in particular. But I am troubled that it's clearly the couple's appearance/age which repels her here--and I'm not so fond of seeing that repulsion/seeing the fact that these folks, even though they are neither young nor beautiful, still have a dynamic sex life, played for laughs, as it most surely is here. ("These are the people who made that racket?", etc.) She actually runs away from their apartment in horror, for Pete's sake. Good call, because as we all know, the un-beautiful were given extra speed by our friend Evolution, to make up for their Lack of Looks! [Blogger places her forehead gently on the soothing wood of her desk, and prays for temporary oblivion through sleep.]

Next Up...?: "Shortcomings," which features the writers in their usually punny sort of mood--Carrie begins dating a SHORT story writer who has some pretty significant SHORTcomings which reveal themselves, um, SHORTly after they start dating. (The word of the day, children, is... SHORT.)

Season Two, Episode Thirteen: Games People Play

I am so darned happy that I do not have to start this summary off with a “Big does something wretched/Carrie forgives him for it” type sentence, I cannot tell you. Because Big is (okay, yes, I know, I know, only temporarily--way to harsh my buzz, people) out of the picture. Wahooooo!

Except, of course, that he’s not really out of the picture, because Carrie remains obsessed with him/their break-up, and is ranting to her friends about him/it non-stop. Her friends are concerned about said obsessiveness, and beg her to go see a therapist. Carrie reluctantly agrees, and starts seeing “Dr. G,” a fancy-pants shrink, notably played by an actress who also played an embittered housewife in Season One. (Psychologist by day, housewife by night? Vice versa?) Dr. G tells Carrie that she seems to have a destructive tendency which causes her to pick men who are elusive, unavailable, and generally nasty to her. Thank you, Dr. G, for being clever enough to charge people massive fees for stating the obvious!

And speaking of destructive tendencies and elusive men… in the waiting room at Dr. G’s, Carrie meets/flirts with/rapidly begins dating Seth, Handsome Charmer/Fellow Patient (who is played by Jon Bon Bloody Jovi, no less. EXCELLENT.) Now, if you've read this blog before, you'll know that I have been rather hard on Carrie in the past for willfully dating men who were quite clearly creeps on track to treat her poorly. (See Big, Mr.) Prepare to watch me engage in some truly spectacular hypocrisy, therefore, because although Seth is quite obviously Bad News from word one, I cannot find it in my icy feminist heart to condemn her for throwing herself into that particular toxic whirlpool.

Because, if you've read this blog before, you will also be aware that I am a fiercely proud Jersey Girl (born, raised, educated, and now, employed), and when JON BON BLOODY JOVI asks you to engage in a racy game of Twister with him (which he does at one point during their courtship—smooth devil, that Jonny B.)... then by golly, play a racy game of Twister with him you do, even if he is clearly a sociopath poised to discard you, much as though you were a water bottle poised over a recycling bin. BECAUSE IT'S JON BON BLOODY JOVI, FOR PETE'S SAKE. Such opportunities... they do not arise every day. Drink that poisoned Kool Aid to the last drop, I say. Goodness knows I would.

Anywhoozle, to continue. Carrie and Seth start dating, sleep together—at which point he tells her that he’s in therapy because he loses interest in women as soon as he sleeps with them. Ahhhhhh, so I guess that would mean… buh-bye, Seth! Buh-bye, Jon Bon Jovi! [Sniffle.] Sorry, Carrie!

And the other ladies? Charlotte doesn’t really have anything going on this episode, except for a discussion in which she affirms that the ladies need to play head games with their menfolk, even after they are in relationships. (And presumably, even after they are married...? Even from beyond the grave...?) Of course they do. Be straightforward and candid, you say? Say what you think, speak your mind, be direct about what you do and don't want from the man in your life? Let him see the real you, flaws, imperfections, and all? Pah. PAH, I say! I scoff at such a ridiculous notion! The ladies need to be MYSTERIOUS--by which I mean, of course, to never actually allow their menfolk to know anything about their true needs, desires, or characters.

Not much going on with Miranda either, unless you count yet more bottomless humiliation which the writers feel compelled to hurl her into. (Oh, Cynthia Nixon, I am so glad that you got to play Eleanor Roosevelt later in your career--that lady of fierce and uncompromising dignity--given what the SATC scribes put you through here.) So, Miranda notices one night that a handsome gent in the apartment across the street from her appears to be gazing at her in admiration. Is she creeped out by this? Um, no, of course not. Ladies--find being watched by unknown gentlemen, while in the privacy of their own homes, without their consent, totally. Hot. She and said gent start playing a game of peekaboo, in which they coyly reveal increasing amounts of flesh to one another from their respective homes. I can't see this going wrong in any way, now, can you?

Except, of course... that it does, in quite spectacular fashion. She sees her Mystery Gent in the grocery store (can I pause here to note how much I love NYC grocery stores, before we continue? So many charming things, so cleverly crammed into such very small spaces! The people who organize them--geniuses), and decides to introduce herself. Turns out, the gent was interested, not in Miranda, but in the gent who lived in the apartment below her. Oh. Dear.

Sam's plotline isn't that interesting, either, come to think of it. Hmmm. Kind of makes you long for the days when Charlotte was infuriating me by pointlessly dumping beautiful pastry chefs, or Miranda was driving me bats by forcing nice ladies to be her reverse-beards, now, doesn't it? But--no, I take it back, I take it back! Nice to have a bit of peace for a change--a vacation from "Everyone Is Offending Me, Please Make It Stop" Land.

All right, so, Sam meets a guy in a sports bar. She starts dating him. Turns out, he is only interested in having sex when the various sports teams whom he favors are doing well. (Good thing he doesn't root for Jersey teams--oh yes, I, the Eternally Loyal Jersey Girl though I am, did in fact just say that. Facts are facts, people.) Can you guess how long Sam is going to be willing to put up with these long, sporting-related periods of abstinence? If you answered "no longer than this episode, that's for darned for sure," then give yourself a star, gentle reader. Buh-bye, Random Sports Bar Bloke!

The Analysis:

LGBT Folks Watch: I will kind of count the bloke whom Miranda thinks she is flirting with for our tally--he is central to the action of the episode, he does have a speaking part... and is not represented terribly negatively, so that's something, I guess! [Thinks to self that it is sad when such things count as "something."] And maybe it's also something that they made him interested in men, rather than women--throwing any queer people into the mix, even if it is only for a scene or two, is something since, you know, LGBT folks do in fact exist, and all, and SATC all too often whites them out of the picture altogether. Unless they made this bloke interested in other guys just to underline Miranda's humiliation? "Not only is he not interested in you, he doesn't like ladies at all." Hmmmm. [Notes to self that self has entirely ignored the possibility that the bloke in question might be bisexual, rather than gay--but as we shall see anon, dismissing bisexuality entirely--I am not the only one guilty of it.]

The Ladies, Oh How They Love to Be Stalked Watch: I suppose the thing that annoys me the most about this episode which, yes, I will concede is pretty darned light on annoyance (amazing!) is the fact that Miranda pretty much instantly embraces being spied on (as she thinks) by her neighbor as flattering/a charming opportunity for risque flirtation. I do not think I am alone among women when I say that if I saw a bloke (no matter what he looked like) staring intently into my window in a salacious way, I would close my blinds/feel uncomfortable and violated, rather than charmed and delighted. Stalking... something of a serious issue for the womenfolk, and I'm not entirely thrilled with the episode making light of it so quickly. I have not warmed up to the trivialization of potentially very scary invasions of women's private space and bodily integrity since earlier in the season, it seems. Dull feminist killjoy, me.

"Games Are Empowering": Manipulation as a Feminist Act Akin to Attending a Take Back the Night Rally? Watch: I also find myself annoyed by Charlotte's whole "one needs to learn how to play the game 'Battle of the Sexes' and win, dammit, win!" argument. It's not an idea which any of the other ladies in any way contest or challenge--they, too, seem to accept the fact that yes, if you are a woman romantically involved with a man, than you are going to have play games of manipulation, obfuscation, and, um, other things which end in "-tion" to hang onto your fella. I find this idea rather distasteful. The whole "being straightforward and not throwing a veil of delicate feminine mystery over all that you think and feel is a perilously unfeminine route, and a route to Dumpsville, to boot"--I like it not. (Good lucking trying to make me into a subscriber, Cosmo.)

Thankfully, though, as the show progresses, it increasingly moves away from this idea, depicting such artificiality and game-playing as self-defeating and counterproductive, and favorably representing these four women's involvement with, you know, actual adult men who value being in relationships with women who are not relentless, coy game players. Goody!

Deep-Seated Neuroses Dislodged by Three Therapy Sessions? Watch: So Carrie decides to stop seeing Dr. G at the end of the episode, even though (as she declares) she valued Dr. G's insights, because she was too embarrassed at the prospect of running into Creepy (but also Dreamy... yes, I am going to keep noting that--this is Jon Bon Bloody Jovi we are talking about here) Seth in the waiting room. Perhaps one could seek out another therapist, if one felt that therapy was actually beneficial to one...? Or... perhaps not. And Carrie decides not. Which is fine in and of itself, but I'd rather see her stop going to therapy because she felt like she had moved beyond actually needing or wanting it, not because she felt awkward about bumping into her erstwhile flame at the office.

Notable Quotables: Samantha, on why Carrie needs to see a therapist about her issues with men, rather than just talking to her girlfriends: “We’re as fucked up as you, it’s like the blind leading the blind!”

Next Up…?: “The Fuck Buddy” (an episode which, I feel compelled to note, when they air it on TBS, they feel compelled to call “The Sex Buddy.” Because clearly that throws a significantly mystifying, delicate veil over the salacious content of the episode! Or… perhaps it doesn’t.) Please also be forewarned that Carrie’s, ahem, “sex buddy” is Liz Lemon’s ex-boyfriend, The Beeper King. Perhaps he got someone else to mind the store when Carrie came a’callin’?