Season Three, Episode Nine: Easy Come, Easy Go

The Summary:

Hello, my friends. I hope that you have some strong meds on stand-by, as this episode... seems positively designed to cause headaches. I know that you are brave and valiant individuals, however--and so, into the breach let us march!

So Carrie is pretty darned happy with Aidan. He is a delightful bloke, treats her with respect and consideration, makes her laugh, all that good stuff. Carrie, happy with a nice man? Surely, this cannot last. And indeed, it does not. As we know from our last episode, Big is once again prowling on the periphery of Carrie's life, making ambiguous noises about his Marital Discontent. Except in this episode, these noises get much less ambiguous, in that--1) a drunken Big tells Carrie that his marriage is a failure, and that he's consequently planning on leaving his wife of seven months (Big to Carrie: "If you know anyone who's interested..."), and 2) a hungover Big calls Carrie the day after this drunken assertion to say that he would leave his wife, but that getting divorced would be way too expensive for him (classy as ever, sir!)

Carrie is furious, disgusted, and quite convinced that this most recent example of despicable behavior on Big's part has finally gotten him out of her system, once and for all. But... of course, it hasn't. Having rented a hotel room to write in while Aidan is stripping the floors in her apartment (more proof of 1) Aidan's niceness, and 2) the writers' cracked-out delusions of what freelance writers can afford to do and not do--go to a coffee shop to write, woman, it's a little cheaper than renting a bloody hotel room), Carrie is followed to said hotel by Big. They have a rather heated discussion in which Big proclaims that he doesn't really know what he wants or what he's doing, but that he misses Carrie, knows his marriage was a mistake... ahhhh, and that he loves Carrie, as well. I see.

Carrie is furious, disgusted... yet quite thunderstruck by Big dropping The L Word. While her brain and her common sense inform her that this is just another chapter in the never-ending "Big=Bad News/Destroyer of Home, Hearth, and Happiness" saga, her heart and her flesh... are rather more susceptible. And so... she sleeps with him. (If you had just gone to Starbucks like I told you to, none of this would have happened, missy! Unless coffee shops in New York are waaaay more permissive than the ones in Pennsylvania...?)

JEEPERS. Okay, so, what else is going on this episode? Sam's plot line provides the most vivid contrast, so let's start there. Sam is dating Adam, a gent who has, she declares to the ladies, "the funkiest tasting spunk." (Apparently, it is a mix between rotten asparagus and Clorox. Delightful.) Never one to accept defeat, Sam tries to tackle the problem by getting Adam to eat a healthier diet, in the hopes that this will resolve the Asparagus-and-Clorox-Issue. Turns out, it doesn't. When she addresses the Taste Issue with Adam directly, he refuses to believe that anything which he himself has created could be so revolting. So Sam makes a deal with him (I cannot believe that I am about to type this, but I must)--sample your own essences, and tell me what you think of their delicate flavor, or say buh-bye to oral sex forever. And so... sample his essences he does. Appreciating the game spirit which this gesture reveals, Sam nonetheless eventually concludes that she cannot be with an Asparagus-and-Clorox-Tasting-Gent long-term. And so... buh-bye, Adam! Buh-bye, plot line which, although rather icky to recap for y'all, at least made me forget about the Carrie-Big Mess for a minute!

Miranda and Steve, meanwhile, are in the final throes of their break-up. He's still sleeping on her couch, as he can't find anywhere else to live. Miranda, in the spirit of "just because we're no longer together doesn't mean that I don't want you to be happy and thrive elsewhere, and also, I really do want you off my couch" helps him to look for a new apartment. He finds one--but not before he has started seeing other ladies, whose voicemails start popping up on Miranda's home phone. (Oh, the days before widespread cell phone use, how cruel they could be!) Delightful.

They finally part ways quite cordially, with some tears, well wishes, and promises to keep in touch. A grown-up break-up, well done, y'all. (Though, Steve, giving your new ladies Miranda's home phone number, seriously? Did you hit your head and become Big for a second? Because that is some high-grade thoughtlessness there!) Buh-bye, Steve! For the moment, anyway...

Charlotte, meanwhile, is still dating Trey, and is quite firmly convinced that he is about to propose to her. Even though... they barely know each other. (Miranda: "You've just met, I've had pairs of pantyhose longer.") She meets his mother, the hair-bow-wearing, chain-smoking, old-money-possessing Bunny (I hope that's a nickname, but one never knows...), and sees that Bunny pretty much has Trey under her thumb--she gently makes a suggestion, Trey instantly acquiesces to said suggestion, whatever it may be. Some women might find this "my mother can quite effortlessly control me" thing unsettling, but Charlotte is delighted, for it shows that Trey is amenable to feminine influence. Ummmm, goody?

One night at dinner, Charlotte (in approved Bunny style) gently suggests to Trey that they get married. Trey (in patented Trey fashion) instantly acquiesces to said suggestion, saying "All right-y." The tradition-loving Charlotte is, of course, not delighted to be engaged, but rather appalled by how said engagement happened. Trey wasn't the proposer, he was the propose-ee! He wasn't the asker, he was the ask-ee! (Carrie: "Who cares about those stupid rules?" Charlotte: "I do!") Brooding over this for awhile, Charlotte decides that she will just invent a new and improved engagement story, in which Trey proposes to her in front of Tiffany's. Ummm... all right-y!

The Analysis:

Watching Carrie Get Sucked Back Into the Toxic Whirlpool of Big Madness YET AGAIN Watch: Ah, so here we are again, watching Carrie do something quite self-destructive, by re-entangling herself with a quite reliably destructive gent (and cheating on her quite reliably charming boyfriend in the process, of course--thus placing a rancid cherry on top of this already unpleasant-tasting sundae.) It seems to me that we have before us a classic Wuthering Heights type situation--in Gent A, we have a man who is kindly, thoughtful, considerate--an altogether lovely and delightful individual. In Gent B, by contrast, we have a sulky sociopath, who likes to string up dogs in his spare time. Which of these gents ought our heroine to be devoted to, and compelled by? I suspect most of us would go with Gent A, appreciating his kindliness, and lack of tendency to hang small animals from trees. However, which of these gents is our heroine devoted to, and compelled by? Alas, it does seem to be Gent B, who although emphatically mad, bad, and dangerous to know, possesses a capacity to strike to the core of our heroine's heart in a way which Gent A does not. Heathcliff may be a thoroughly nasty piece of goods (it still baffles me that he is held up as a romantic hero in the popular imagination--he's a rapist who kills small animals, people), and Big an immature, commitment-phobic twerp... but our heroines love them. Oh, hearts. Why must you lead us in such unsettling and unwise directions?

"I Can't Do That, That's Gay": Ah, Panic About Being Tainted By Gayness, How Pervasive Thou Art: So when Sam makes her "drink of the poisoned well from which I have been made to drink, or else" offer to Adam, he protests that he can't possibly sample his own gentlemanly essences, because to do so would be "gay." Ah, watching a straight man panic about his heterosexuality being in any way questioned or challenged! What a pleasure it always is! Since this anxiety is presented as quite ludicrous by the writers, I think this moment is less troubling than it is yet more sorry proof of the rather pervasive "for me to be seen as gay would clearly be the worst thing ever" attitude on the part of some straight gents. I can think of lots of reasons to not want to sample one's own bodily fluids, but fear of being perceived gay for doing so... not one of them!

"There Was No Ring, No Kneeling, No Nothing": Depressingly Unromantic Wedding Proposals Watch: I will agree with Charlotte here that her engagement story is a wildly unromantic and depressing one, but less for the reasons which she herself outlines (that everything is out of whack because she should have been the one to be asked, not the one to do the asking--oh, the gender disorder!) and more because she barely knows the man whom she is proposing to, and because he seems to accept her proposal with the same casual, unemotional calm which most of us would reserve for assenting to take a stick of gum. Trouble. Ahead. There. My. Friends.

On the plus side, I think the episode does happily side with Carrie, with her whole "who cares who proposes to who, as long as all parties concerned actually want to marry each other" attitude. And also on the plus side, I think that the episode does throw up lots of red flags when it comes to the Charlotte-Trey engagement--the writers are clearly sympathetic to Charlotte's desire to find the right man, fall in love, and get hitched, but they also represent her "I need to get engaged now, because I have an age-appropriate, in-many-ways-suitable man in my line of sight, and I must be in love, because he's... you know... nice... from what I've been able to gather so far..." attitude as a definite problem. Good writers. Give yourself a firm pat on the back.

Wait, We Are Actually Questioning Gender Essentialism Here, Seriously? Is It My Birthday Or What??? Watch: I cannot believe that I am about to type these happy words, but this episode actually takes a trite, cliched, oversimplified idea about gender difference and questions it. [Raises fist in a gesture indicative of victory.] Carrie begins the episode by thinking about how our society accepts the truism that men think logically and women emotionally, musing that maybe it's not "that cut and dried." Halle-bloody-lu-jah, in the therapy business, I do believe that they call that a break-through. A stereotype about gender difference actually buries the complex truths about how all of us, regardless of our gender, think, feel, and react to people, situations, and the world--and Carrie has just acknowledged this. YES. SUCCESS. [To self, ominously, under breath... for now, anyway.]

Notable Quotables: Miranda, on the different ways in which she and Steve are perceived in the wake of their break-up: "A thirty-four-year-old guy with no money and no place to live, because he's single, he's a catch. But a thirty-four-year-old woman with a job and a great home, because she's single, is considered tragic."

Samantha, cutting through Miranda's "I really do want the best for Steve, even though he is dating other women while still sleeping on my couch" protests: "Oh, please, there's always a contest with an ex, it's called 'Who'll Die Miserable.' "

Next Up...?: "All Or Nothing," in which the Carrie-Big affair continues, as does my desire to step on a rusty nail, get tetanus, and end my pain, once and for all. And we also have some very festive discussions to unpack, about how modern women have unlimited choice and opportunities in their lives, and how there are no more barriers to female independence, success, or self-determination anymore. How nice to know! I'm glad to hear that my sense that our culture is still very much a sexist and hierarchical is totally off-base! Hooray!

Season Three, Episode Eight: The Big Time

[Blogger's note: Just so you know, I haven't been dilly-dallying over writing this blog post because it heavily features Big (oh, Big, my bete noire, the perpetual headache hovering around my poor, besieged, um, head), but rather because I have been spending more time than anyone ought to of late in Grading Hell. Oh, Grading Hell. Why did Dante never write of your terrors?

ANYWAY. Just wanted to clear that up/whine about grading. And so--onwards!]

The Summary: Oh, times which are big, let us contemplate them!

Okay, so, it seems like everywhere Carrie goes these days, she runs into Big. A Big who is darkly, ambiguously flirtatious, and makes vague, portentous statements about the potential unsoundness of his marriage. A Big who is clearly and visibly displeased to hear that Carrie is dating a man whom she finds, in her words, "perfect." A Big who (in an act of un-Big-like directness) leaves her a voicemail, telling her that he can't stop thinking about her. [Slumps forward over keyboard, afraid to go on.]

And what is Carrie's reaction to all of this Big Activity, you ask? An uncomfortable (for her, and also for we humble viewers--perhaps especially for we humble viewers) mishmash of feelings. She clearly wishes both to do the obviously sensible thing (tell his potentially adulterous self where he, and all of his dark flirtation, can go), and to do the patently unsensible thing (and hear his potentially adulterous, darkly flirtatious self out.) Her feelings, they are complex. My feelings, they are less so. ("Dear Big: Go boil your head. Best regards, Holly.")

So when we leave Carrie at the end of the episode, we leave her rather in peril--wishing to be uncomplicatedly happy with the charming (and totally single/available) Aidan, but with a complicated undertow of feeling pulling her back towards the rather less charming (and not at all single) Big. Alcohol--she may need some. Alcohol--I shall definitely need some.

And what of the other ladies, whose heartstrings are mercifully not intertwined with those of would-be adulterous cads? Let us see. Charlotte has officially begun dating Trey, her knight-in-shining armor from our last episode. Trey is all of the things which Charlotte has ever hoped for in a swain--namely, is handsome, blue-blooded, well-mannered, and rich. [Blogger thinks to self that self cannot stand to give yet another lecture to Ms. York about the raging shallowness of her current "Things I Am Looking For In A Fella" List, and so does not bother.]

Charlotte is quite convinced that Trey is The One. Charlotte is quite convinced that she is In Love. Her friends... are rather less convinced, on both fronts. [Carrie: "You've known him for two weeks. You can know his e-mail address, you cannot know he is The One."]

Quite certain, despite her friends' skepticism, that this is in fact Some Day, and that her Prince has officially come, Charlotte is taking a good solid page out of The Rules playbook, and is steadfastly refusing to sleep with Trey. This has nothing to do with an Aidan-esque, "I would like to know you better ere becoming your lov-ah" attitude, or with a genuine desire on Charlotte's part to not sleep with Trey just yet, but rather because, you see, you cannot sleep with a gent too quickly, lest he cease to respect you/come to think of you as too slutttty to one day be his blushing, white-veil-draped bride. Good to know! Moving on!

Let us venture towards The Land of Miranda next. I wish that it were a happier land, for all our sakes, but I fear that it is not. For it transpires that Miranda and Steve are having Major Problems. (But... Miranda was so darned happy doing his laundry but one short episode ago!) Steve wants them to have a baby. As in... now. Since they've only been living together for two months, and Miranda is up for partner at her firm at this precise moment in time, she feels that this is a bad idea. She conveys this to Steve. Steve... is sulky.

Said sulkiness leads Miranda to feel like she already has a baby in her house--and not the cute kind whom you can buy cupcake-shaped hats for, either, but rather the less cute "I am thirty-four years old, but am still going to sulk and give you the silent treatment, rather than rationally talk to you about what's bothering me" kind. Soooo, to recap: Steve is not happy, because Miranda turned him down re: the immediate baby-making. Miranda is not happy, because of Steve's immature behavior, not only re: the immediate baby-making, but also re: life in general. (Miranda to Steve: "I cannot be in charge all the time--we're supposed to be equals, partners!")

They have a huuuuge fight, which culminates in Miranda breaking up with him. Sadness. Not that I enjoyed watching Miranda going into raptures about how amazing it was to wash Steve's undergarments (what pleasure in life could be deeper or richer, after all?), but those crazy kids genuinely seemed happy together. Bummer! Additionally, Steve is actually nice, and goodness knows, nice men are in short supply in this here series. Ah well. Buh-bye, Steve! Or should I say... au revoir?

Samantha is also having rather a rough time of it, it transpires. (What an episode of Doom and Gloom this is turning out to be!) So Sam's period is late, and she is worried that her last period was, well, her last period--as in, on this earth, and that she has officially entered menopause. She... is not so pleased by this development. (Sam: "I'm day-old bread, my time is up!")

Sunk in despair about her alleged day-old-bread-ness, Samantha accepts a date with Len, a creepy guy in her building whom she had always rejected before, not because he is creepy, but because she considered him too over-the-hill for her. (Even though... they are clearly not that far apart in age?) Continuing her dark slide into the Slough of Despond, Sam ends up sleeping with Len--at which point, lo and behold, her period returns!... all over Len's quite sickeningly expensive sheets. Sam is delighted! Len is disgusted! (So am I--not about the menstrual blood, that, I'm familiar with--but with how much Len spent on his sheets. Such a ludicrous outlay of capital for mere bedding? Now that is icky.)

The fact that she is still a menstruating lady, rather than a menopausal one, means that All Is Right With The Universe, according to Sam. Suddenly, she feels herself restored to youth! Vitality! A lack of need to despairingly sleep with creeps she does not actually like! And so--buh-bye, Slough of Despond! Buh-bye, Len! Buh-bye, Len's ridiculously overpriced bedclothes! Hello, LunaPads/Diva Cup/Menstrual Product of Your Choice! (Too many exclamation points there, but I cannot help it!)

The Analysis:

Please Take Note: All Women Want Is Love, All Men Want Is Sex Watch: So this episode made me think of nothing so much as that god-awful poster for that god-awful movie The Ugly Truth, which features stick figures of a man and a woman, with a cartoon of a heart drawn on the woman, you know, where all of our hearts, regardless of our gender, actually are, and the same heart cartoon drawn on the man, smack-dab in the middle of his gentlemanly area. Ah, suggesting that men think and feel with their penises! What a refreshing, charming, and original notion it is! Except, wait, nope, sorry, it's not actually any of those things, now, is it?

I am put in mind of this distasteful idea here because of the way that the Charlotte-Trey plot line wraps up in this episode. Trey (after TWO WEEKS, mind you) declares his love for Charlotte--to which declaration, Charlotte, of course, eagerly responds with a corresponding assertion of her love for him. (Two. Weeks. Here. People.) After this mutual declaration of affection, Carrie informs us, "That night, Charlotte got everything she wanted. Trey got a hand job." Delightful.

Please pull out your omnipresent notepads and scribble down the following: "Women are only interested in romantic love. Men are primarily interested in sexual gratification." Because, of course, throughout the episode, Trey has been angling for greater physical intimacies, and Charlotte, for greater emotional intimacies. Because that doesn't in any way play into any lazy stereotypes which I can think of, about women's and men's priorities in life! Blurrrrg.

"Men Are Like Cabs": Yet Another Heapin' Helpin' of Gender Essentialism Watch: So if the whole "women: seek love, men: seek sex" thing didn't annoy you enough, with its charmless oversimplifications of women's and men's desires and aspirations, you will be pleased to know that there is yet more annoying gender essentialism on hand in this episode, in the form of a conversation which the ladies have about how men are like cabs. (Yes, really.)

So, Miranda asserts that men are like cabs in that they "turn their light on" when they're ready to settle down and have a family. (Before that, they just drive around picking up women, without truly being available. Get it? Picking up? Available?? Cab metaphors???) Once their "commitment light" is on, however, they pick up the first appealing lady whom they see to be their passenger/wife/mother of their children. Sounds... romantic!

Miranda affirms that while it takes a long time for men to "light up" with the, um, cab flame of domesticity, most women have been lit with it "pretty much since birth." Please take up your notebook and pen yet again, writing the following words down, to be memorialized for the ages: "Men... delay making a commitment to a woman/family life/domesticity as long as possible. Interested in settling down into domestic life only after any and all possible wild oats have been sown. Women... eager to make a commitment to a man/family life/domesticity as soon as possible. In fact, wish to do same from the time they are wee tots." [Blogger places fingers to temples, in the vain hopes of massaging the pain away.]

Gentlemen, How They Despise Ladies Who Are Too "Fast" Watch: There are times, when I am watching SATC, when I feel as though I have fallen through the looking glass, and am immersed, not in a TV show from the 2000s, but a very confusing and contradictory guide to sex and dating from the 1920s. "Be sexy all the time! Lure your man in with your wily feminine wiles! Slap on that red lipstick, raise those hemlines to the roof! You exude sex. Heck, you are sex. But while you're busy doing that, please also keep in mind that if you let your fella take "excessive liberties" with you (this being the 1920s, we can't spell out exactly what that means, but use your imaginations), he will think you are a dirty, dirty tramp who deserves neither his love nor his respect--and he will be quite right to do so.") Ah, mental whiplash and headache-making mixed messages, we meet again. How are you, old friends?

I find such guidebooks distasteful (if also super fun to read--so much festive flapper slang!), much as I find Charlotte's "I want Trey to respect and value me as a person, therefore I need to curtail physical intimacies with him, regardless of my own desires in the matter" attitude distasteful. And to think, we were doing such good work with the slut-shaming but a few short episodes ago! Oh, back-sliding. How frequently we seem to engage in it.

"I'm a Little Older Than You": The Horrors of Female Aging--OH, THE HORRORS--Watch: In addition to some irritating slut-shaming and some charmless gender essentialism, this episode is also worth noting, I feel, for its "nothing on God's green earth could be worse than being a woman and going through menopause, spare me the bleak horror of it all" discourse.

Samantha clearly feels that her sexual desirability, and indeed, the survival of her very sexuality itself, is contingent on her not getting older/entering menopause. Do menopausal and post-menopausal women experience physical changes which impact and in some cases fundamentally change their sex lives? Sure. Are older women relentlessly defined in our culture as less desirable than younger women? Absolutely. But does this mean that once a lady ceases getting visits from The Menses Fairy that she actually is "day-old bread," who has nothing left to look forward to on the romance-and-sex front than dull encounters with creepy blokes like Len? I'm going to go with... no, no, it doesn't.

I think that this episode rather loses its balance on the tightrope here, in its discussion about female aging. I don't think that there's anything wrong with showing that Sam is anxious about becoming older, and has been impacted by the relentless negative representations of older women as hopelessly unattractive and distinctly un-sexy which she's been subjected to, living in this wacky sexist and ageist culture of ours. We are all of us human, and living in a culture which calls women "cougars" for dating men five years their junior, but doesn't blink an eye at men dating lasses twenty years their junior--which starts pushing hair dye onto the ladies after their first gray hair, but calls men who have gray hair "distinguished," and so forth and so on, into infinity, surely does leave some scars.

It's buying into the distinctly unpleasant system which gives us those very scars which I find troubling. Sam's response here is not so much "so, the world thinks that I am undesirable since I've passed the age of 40/will soon stop menstruating/have refused to remain perpetually 22, now, does it? Well, then, bugger the world," as it is "ahhhh, the world is right, the world is right! Without my youth, I am nothing! Please come back, period, I'll buy you, um, whatever it is that periods like, if you do! Pretty please, with sugar on top???"

I realize that it is not easy for any of us to single-handedly take on a media and a culture which constantly tell us that we can't possibly be desirable or valuable or likable if we're not [fill in the blank: young, thin, white, able-bodied, "pretty," and so on, and so forth, into infinity.] But I'd have liked to have seen a little more push-back against the whole "for women, aging=unending nightmare of unwantedness and undesirability" attitude here, and a little less "phew, Sam got her period back, so therefore she can still legitimately be seen as sexy, and have a satisfying sex life" malarkey. Happily, the show actually gets better with age, when it comes to reflecting on women and aging. Coincidence??? I think not.

Next Up...?: Return to me anon, and we shall discuss our next episode, "Easy Come, Easy Go." Since said episode features a drunken Big, and lengthy discussions on Sam's part about the undesirable taste of her latest gentleman's gentlemanly essences, I, for one, doubt there will be anything "easy" about it...

Season Three, Episode Seven: Drama Queens

The Summary:

DRAMA! Things which are dramatic! Exclamation points to underline the DRAMA of even mentioning the dramatic!

So, Carrie is dating Aidan, and is very happy with him. Can we be happy for her, in said happiness? Oh, my dear readers. Of course we can't. Because Carrie's untroubled happiness in being with Aidan is actually freaking her out--she's used to being in relationships which are plagued by (all together now) DRAMA. Aidan is not dramatic. He says what he thinks. He shows up when he says he'll show up. He does what he says he'll do. He candidly tells Carrie how much he likes her, and how happy he is with her. Carrie... can't handle it. When Aidan invites her to meet his parents, she has a mini-meltdown, and gives him a long speech about how she can't, and about how "maybe we should see each other less, so we can miss each other more." [Lies down to take a nap.]

Carrie is shocked out of these neuroses by the end of the episode, happily. (Thank you, Divine Powers of the Universe.) She sees Big and Natasha at the opera, catches Big's eye, and has a major meltdown. She runs out of the aforementioned opera, rather than have to deal with being in his and his youthful spouse's vicinity. Big rushes after her, but she does not see him, and consequently manages to escape from the opera Big-less. DRAMA. (On the episode's part.) RELIEF. (On your humble blogger's part. Oh, and since I've already interjected myself here, may I further note that it would take a whole heck of a lot more than sitting across from my distasteful ex and his new lady to get me to leave a fancy-pants opera? Have you seen the kinds of costumes on display at those suckers??? Golly.)

Being reminded of Big and his commitment-phobic, game-playing wretchedness, Carrie realizes that she actually "wants to be with a guy who wants to be with me." YES. PROGRESS. So she decides to enjoy, rather than fret about, the fact that Aidan is uncomplicatedly interested in being part of her life, and decides to go and meet Aidan's parents, after all. Excellent.

And what of the other ladies? Sam's plot line is rather numbing in its dullness. Sam is dating a doctor. He takes Viagra recreationally. (Now that sounds safe.) She asks him if she can pop a few pills, herself. Being the ethical gent that he is, he says yes. She rapidly becomes addicted to the stuff, and rather than deal with her blue-pill-addicted self, the doc dumps her. Buh-bye, Ethically-Challenged Medical Professional!

Charlotte, meanwhile, like Carrie, is enmeshed in some (largely self-generated) DRAMA herself. As part of her quest to find herself a hubby, she is reading a book (Marriage, Inc.: How to Apply Successful Business Strategies to Finding a Husband), which recommends eschewing your single lady friends, and buddying up to your married friends' spouses, in the hopes of meeting their charming, single, gentleman friends. [Pauses.] Now, I can't see that "get close to your married friends' husbands thing" going wrong in any way, now, can you, gentle reader?

Ah, but of course it does. Rather than set Charlotte up with a single friend of his, Husband-Of-Her-Friend-Amy Dennis himself declares his love for Charlotte. Crud. Fleeing from this declaration of adulterous affection, Charlotte is nearly run over by a cab--the passenger of which, one Dr. Trey McDougal by name, is smitten with Charlotte at first sight. Ah, the meet-cute. In other romantic comedies: a sign of pending everlasting love. In SATC: a sign of pending inevitable disaster. Buh-bye, Dennis! Hello, Trey! And--Trouble!

And what is Miranda up to, you ask? Nothing with too much DRAMA about it, I'm afraid. Miranda veers back and forth between loving that her relationship with Steve feels so "comfortable" and "safe," and fretting that the very comfort and safety of said relationship means that all romance and excitement in the relationship is long-since dead--departed--fled. In the end, Steve makes a romantic/unexpected gesture, which restores her faith that comfort/security and the unexpected/romantic can, indeed, happily co-exist. (I am using "romantic/unexpected" here to mean that Steve decides to mix up their sexual routine by initiating an Intimate Moment in the banal space of her laundry room... which might be stretching the "romantic" thing a bit... but was at least quite unexpected!)

The Analysis:

"It's My New Full Time Job": How to Get Thyself Hitched Self-Help Books Watch: I actually had to look up the book which Charlotte is reading in this episode, Marriage, Inc., just to double-check that it wasn't real. Turns out, it's not--but that's not to say that books like it (and much, much worse) don't exist out there in that free marketplace of ours for the female reading public, because, surely, they do.

In this episode, as in the whole "Charlottte Seeks Marriage" story arc this season, the writers have a rather fine line to walk--between respecting Charlotte's genuine desire to be married and have a family, while simultaneously questioning some of the, well, questionable methods which she employs in the service of that goal. I think they do quite a decent job of it in this episode, actually (yay, I have something nice to say, for once!)--mocking, not Charlotte's hopes, but rather the quite unpleasant advice which her ostensibly helpful book is giving her--i.e., ditch your single friends, and cultivate your married friends purely because they have spouses whom you can use as a resource for seeking your Prince Charming.

Considering that this is a series which will later spawn a relationship self-help book which also has some quite unpleasant advice for the ladies, the writers actually do a nice job here of skewering relationship advice books which offer (loopy at best, and destructive at worst) advice to women navigating the Tricky Waters of Love and the Heart. Give yourself a gold star, writers. (Or... maybe a silver one. I am still ticked about the whole bisexuality mess which you dumped in our laps a few episodes ago.)

"I Want My Pills, Dammit!": Ladies and Magic Pills Watch: So in the Samantha plot line, the writers make it clear that taking Viagra makes the (already quite sexually, shall we say, aware) Sam that much more--indeed, even rather quite loopily--sexually desirous and responsive. A few things about that whole schmegegge:

1) That's rubbish. From what my lazy Internet search/dim cultural memory tells me, researchers are very far from being in agreement about what Viagra does or does not do for the womenfolk, with a goodly number of them concluding that it doesn't actually do that much--and that there isn't a "magic bullet" pill which has this kind of miraculous effect on the ladies.

2) Also--a little troubling here, perhaps, that the sexual eagerness which these Happy Pills unleash in Samantha is regarded with such alarm and consternation by her doctor friend? He seems positively terrified by the intensity which the pills inspire in her, and said terror is part of what inspires him to dump her. Remind me again why a woman intensely, eagerly pursuing her own sexual pleasure is such a scary thing? Ohhhh, riiiiight.

3) And finally--I feel like there's something to be said here about the whole "medicalization of female desire" thing, and how creepy it is. Huh. But what is there to say, exactly, I ask myself? Ummmm... that it is creepy to me that any time that we talk about women and Magical Sexual Pills, we start to talk about female sexual "dysfunction" in ways which pathologize women whose sexual responses are not "normal" (whatever "normal" means to us here)? Yes. Indeed. That is creepy. Not sure that it is directly related to Sam's popping of Viagra here, but if I can't go off on random tangents on my very own blog, then, I ask you, where can I?

"My Favorite Thing to Do on a Saturday Night is Steve's Laundry, and I've Never Been Happier": The Ladies, Oh How They Do Love Domestic Labor! Watch: Perhaps it is because I myself find doing laundry so totally annoying (my lovely domicile has many charms, but a washer and dryer on premises is not among them--curses!) that I also find part of the Miranda-Steve plot line here so annoying. So Miranda tells her friends, as you see from the quote above, that she just loves doing Steve's laundry every Saturday night. It makes her so darned happy. PLEASE.

Even after she stops adoring doing his laundry (for scatological reasons which, since they have nothing to do with feminist analysis, I have excused myself from discussing--they are icky, that is all you need to know), she... still does it. Remind me why, again? Ohhhh, riiiight. Disappointing to have this lazy, "of course, ladies do distasteful domestic work for their menfolk which their menfolk are in no way expected to reciprocate, this is only natural" moment introduced into what is usually a pretty egalitarian presentation of Miranda and Steve's domestic life. I mean, for the love of Pete, Steve's version of giving Miranda "a hand with the wash" is initiating intimacies in the laundry room. This in no ways helps clothing get either clean or dry, sir.

Next Up...?: "The Big Time." Any guesses what that sucker is about? Big Ben, you inquire hopefully? Big Bird, you ask wistfully? Bob's Big Boy, you query optimistically? I am afraid that it is none of these things, mes amies--the Big of the title is, in fact, the Chris Noth-y Big whom you are thinking that it is. Le sigh. There is no escape for us, my fellow travelers. NONE. Back to Big Land, it is, then! See you there next week! Bring booze! (Trust me... you're going to need it.)

Season Three, Episode Six: Are We Sluts?

The Summary:

All right, let's delve into the Magical World of Slut-Shaming, shall we?

So, Carrie has been dating Aidan for a whole week and a half. I am pleased, because Aidan is actually a very nice man. (For once in our lives, Carrie with a very nice man. Thank you, Universe! Though goodness knows, you owed us this, after all that you have put us/Carrie through, so far--and will put us through, in future...) Carrie, on the other hand... is not so pleased, however, because while she keeps extending the invitation, Aidan has of yet declined to sleep with her. When she asks him about said refusals, he says that he wants to avoid making the mistake of sleeping with ladies too quickly (as he had done in the past), instead saving sex for someone special.

Carrie is rather appalled that this line of reasoning (emotional investment and sex going hand in hand) had not even occurred to her as a possibility, and that she herself had expected to sleep with Aidan pretty much right out of the gate, purely by default. Said appallment (appall-hood? appallification?) leads to her to muse about whether modern ladies have dangerously lost touch with all sense of/value for romance, and become "sluts." Well, let us see, shall we?

In terms of her own self (and Aidan's own self), she continues to fret that the fact that he wants to wait to have sex with her means that he wants to be "just friends." (These anxieties not being eased by Samantha, who tells Carrie that she needs to sleep with Aidan ASAP, since a woman and a man only have a short window of time to get on the Romantic Relationship Track, before getting derailed onto the Purely Platonic Friendship Track. I'd like to see the research on that one. Oh, right, I forgot, there isn't any, because... that's rubbish!) She obsesses over whether or not she and Aidan are doomed to end up as just friends, even though Aidan consistently, openly declares that this is not what he wants from their relationship. Oh, Carrie. Will your neuroses never end?

By the end of the episode, time has passed, and Aidan and Carrie have, indeed, slept together (Carrie: "Aidan and I were going to sleep together, and it was going to mean something. I was no virgin, but this was definitely virgin territory.") Soooo... Aidan gets to stick around for a little longer. Goody. Men who are nice!

And what of the other ladies and their grapplings with Slut-Hood, you ask? Samantha, for one, is getting slut-shamed by all of her neighbors, for having an "excessive" amount of gentlemen callers. Although Sam is usually the first to fiercely defend her sexual choices, this relentless derision and nastiness gets to her... and she decides to move to a different building, to escape their heckling (slut-heckling?) All right, then!

Miranda, meanwhile, has learned that she has chlamydia, which means that she has to contact all of the gents whom she has slept with, to tell them to get tested to see if they, too, have this charmless disease. Having to make a list of "All of the Gentlemen I Have Slept With," and subsequently contacting all of the gentlemen on said list, proves to be a rather dispiriting process, and induces some pretty severe self-slut-shaming on La Hobbes' part. Happily, Steve pulls her out of this (Miranda: "I'm a big, dirty, diseased whore." Steve: "Hey, that's my girlfriend you're talking about.") He could care less about Miranda's sexual past, and keeps telling her to stop beating herself up for having a list which is "too long." Goody. Men who are nice, and who refuse to hop on the Slut-Shaming Express!

If only Charlotte was having such luck with the gentlemen--but alas, she is not. She is dating Alexander, who seems to be a very nice man (we know that can't last, don't we, gentle readers?) Transpires that he has the rather unpleasant habit of calling Charlotte "you fucking bitch, you fucking whore" during their Intimate Moments. Ah. Of course he does. When Charlotte informs him of this practice (of which he had previously been unaware), he is horrified (one), decides that he needs to go to therapy to deal with the issues underlying such declarations (two), and dumps Charlotte (three.) The "Let Us Watch Charlotte Suffer" plotlines continue apace, I see!

The Analysis:

People of Color Watch: Marginal in the extreme. The doctor who tests Steve for chlamydia is Asian-American. A nurse, and the doorman in Sam's building, are African-American (and have no lines), and the elevator operator in Sam's building is Hispanic. (He has about two lines, though he does also roll his eyes and look disapproving at Sam's slutttttiness.)

"Okay, That's What I Wanted, Bye": Being Flabbergasted That A Gent Might Actually Want to Wait to Have Sex with a Lady Watch: When it comes to Aidan's "I've decided I only want to sleep with women whom I have gotten to truly know and care about" affirmation--and how that affirmation gets handled--in this episode:

1) Yay. I like Aidan. He is such a nice gent (as opposed to a Nice Guy, notably)--he tells Carrie what he's thinking and what he wants, and cares and asks about what she's thinking, and what she wants. Give yourself a gold star, Mr. Shaw.

2) I also like the fact that he himself mocks the whole "a man won't buy the cow if he can get the milk for free, wait, are we seriously likening women to cows here???" idea, that men are always and only out for sex, and yet do not respect the ladies who are "too easy" when it comes to sexual matters. "Okay, that's what I wanted, bye" is what he says to Carrie after they've slept together--and HE IS KIDDING. A man to break our abstinence-only, "men will only respect women who are stainlessly 'pure' and virginal" friends' hearts, this one.

3) The thing that bothers me about this plotline (and you knew there would be something...) is that Carrie does not believe that Aidan is romantically interested in her (even though he keeps telling her that he is, geez) until they sleep together. Her friends do not help to diffuse these anxieties, assuming that Aidan's refusal to sleep with her right away must mean that he is gay, has "mother issues," or is afflicted with some kind of physical deformity. Because it is inconceivable that he could actually mean what he says, and that he wants to wait to sleep with Carrie until they know each other better...? I suppose that it must be, silly me!

Slut-Shaming, Does This Episode Feed or Diffuse It?: A Debate

Feeds It: Oh, please, like this even needs to be a debate.

Diffuses It: I agree, this episode is MINE. It's not even a contest. It's like being Muhammed Ali, and being asked to box a kitten. Pathetic.

Feeds: Ummm, are you high on crack? I believe this one is MINE, kimosabe. Do you not recall the scene where Sam says to Charlotte (who is obsessing about the fact that Alexander has called her a whore dans la sack), "If you're a whore, what does that make me?", and Carrie and Miranda quickly avert their eyes and look embarrassed, because clearly... that's what Sam is, and said moment is played for laughs? Ha ha, Sam is slutty, and said sluttiness is ripe for mockery! [Prepares brow to accept the laurels of victory.]

Diffuses: Okay, sure, I'll grant that that is an unpleasant moment. But I think that it's an isolated, unpleasant moment in an episode which is otherwise quite a thoughtful, nuanced examination of our slut-shame-y culture.

Feeds: [bored, dismissive, examining its cuticles]: Oh, really?

Diffuses: [stung]: Yes, really! Let us not forget that the whole Miranda-Steve plotline is all about how unnecessarily hurtful Miranda's self-slut-shaming is. And about how Steve, with his "Your sexual past isn't the measure of who you are as a person, I don't care who you were with in the past, you're with me now, and I love you, no matter what, stop being mean to yourself" attitude, is presented as the voice of reason here. [Prepares to snatch the laurels of victory for itself.]

Feeds: [less bored now, actually starting to feel a little afraid]: Well... maybe.

Diffuses: Oh, and I'm not done, sparky. As we have already discussed, Aidan, too, explicitly rejects slut-shaming, "women's value to men is purely sexual, yet women deserve to be shamed for being sexual" ideas, as well. And since Aidan and Steve are two of the most sympathetic male characters in the whole darned series, having them mock slut-shaming and try to keep their ladies from engaging in it... pretty nice.

Feeds: [galvanized into life by unease about losing its grip on the victory laurels]: Not so fast, my overly optimistic friend. What about Sam leaving her apartment building because her neighbors' judgment about her sexual decisions makes her feel so terrible about herself?

Diffuses [defensively, and with more than a little false bravado]: Heck, that was a victory for Sam! She leaves because she wants to live in a place free from sexual judgment--she refuses to change her behavior just to appease her neighbors, so she goes to live somewhere else, where she can be herself without shame or judgment!

Feeds: [skeptically]: Ummmm-hmmmm. And it's not like the episode doesn't play Sam's sluttiness for laughs, through its endless montage of the gents she has slept with over the years, for example, and suggest that her neighbors are onto something, when they suggest her sexual behavior is inappropriate and excessive?

Diffuses: [Mumbles something inaudible.]

Feeds: [with artificial sweetness]: I'm sorry, what was that?

Diffuses: All right, I think that we can call the Sam plotline a draw, Slut-Shaming Wise.

Feeds: Fair enough.

Diffuses: But when it comes to the rest of the episode... point to me, I think. I wear high heels, you wear sneakers, I'm cheer captain and you're on the bleachers, and so on and so forth.

Feeds: [Murmurs something inaudible, and likely obscene.]

Diffuses: [Adjusts laurels on its brow, beyond caring about any discontented, obscene murmuring which may be happening in its vicinity.]

"No One Wants to Marry a Whore": Dismissing A Lady's Dislike of Being Called a Whore as Foolish Prissiness Watch: Although I do think that, on the whole, the episode does do a good job of dealing with the whole "our society has some truly bizarre, contradictory, and unpleasant ideas about female sexuality" thing, there is a moment in the "Charlotte tells the ladies that her gent is calling her a whore" discussion which I quite dislike: when Charlotte expresses horror that Alexander has called her a fucking bitch and a fucking whore during sex, her friends quite literally laugh said horror off, regarding Charlotte's objections as rather silly and prissy. (Charlotte: "Why would he say that?" Sam: "Maybe because... you were fucking him?" Carrie: "That's true, sweetie, he didn't say it to you at the dry cleaners, he said it when he was in you.")

Ahhhh, that's right, I had forgotten the "gents have the right to use derogatory terms used to disparage women to ladies during sex, even if said ladies find those terms offensive" rule. Foolish of me! Charlotte clearly finds said terminology, not a naughty turn-on, but rather offensive, off-putting, and hurtful... and surely, she has the right to feel this way, without being mocked? It seems not! My mistake!

Next Up...?: Return to me anon, and we shall reflect on "Drama Queens," a episode which is full of, well, drama. (Though sadly, not quite so full of queens. Come on, SATC writers, time-traveling episode, you so could have made it happen! Charlotte exchanging tales of romantic woe with Guinevere! Sam exchanging jokes with Anne Boleyn! Miranda sharing some Quality Redhead Time with Elizabeth! Carrie going shoe-shopping with Marie Antoinette! Amazing.)

The actual episode we shall be discussing, sadly, features none of these things, but rather the return of Big. [Curls up in the fetal position, craving a safety and security not available in this cold, cruel world.]

Back on Carrie's Stoop Gets Slackerfied

My apologies for not posting properly today, dear friends--I hope, at least, that I have a suitably festive excuse for my slackerhood--I was at Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert's rally in D.C. this weekend, which was simply lovely--the sight of Jon Stewart in a snazzy blazer, Stephen Colbert in a cape, and lots and lots of nice, smart, funny people carrying madly witty signs (my personal favorites including a giant sign reading "Kitten!", with a picture of a cute kitten on it--now THERE'S a political statement I can get behind!)=happiness. Also nice to see the good people of Planned Parenthood and NARAL out in force (I'm guessing they were there for the Restoring Sanity part, and not so much the Fear Keeping Alive part?)

I am coming down from my Cloud of Rally Happiness as I type, however, so we shall be back to our regularly scheduled programming/ranting very soon, I promise. In the meantime, why not enjoy these images of J. Stew and S. Colb in matching American flag sweaters? God bless America, indeed.

Season Three, Episode Five: No Ifs, Ands, or Butts

The Summary:

Sometimes, the writers' penchant for puns exhausts me. "Butts," in the title of an episode which is in part about smoking? Must we, really? I suppose that we must. Sigh.

Anywhoozle, let us mercifully turn away from silly puns to less silly summaries, shall we? I will save Samantha's plot line till last, because that one is the most maddening. Least maddening, I suppose, are the activities of one Ms. Charlotte York. Charlotte is dating Brad. Brad is a bad kisser. As in... epically bad. She tries to work with him, to improve matters. Work commences, but matters do not improve. Charlotte decides that she cannot date someone who is an irredeemably, epically bad kisser. Buh-bye, Brad!


Miranda, meanwhile, is having problems with Steve. Not kissin' problems, happily, but problems nonetheless. So, Steve got picked through a lottery to be the random pleb who tries to make a half court shot (for mucho deniro) at the beginning of a Knicks game. He is very excited about this. Miranda is not excited about this at all, and keeps reminding Steve that the chances of him making this shot is about the same as him being made a saint/being struck by lightning.

Steve is angry that Miranda is always such a Gloomy Guss, spreading doubts, fears, and doom-filled prognostications, not only about silly things like basketball, but also about more serious things like their future prospects as a couple. Steve wants Miranda to show some faith in him, and in them. So... she goes to watch him practice for the game, and claps enthusiastically. Peace in our time! [Ominously] FOR THE MOMENT, ANYWAY.

And what of Carrie? She meets Aidan Shaw, a charming furniture designer with a soft voice, hippie-ish demeanor, and turquoise jewelry aplenty. (Soooo... pretty much as different from Big as you could possibly get then, eh, Ms. B? Good call!) They start dating. Aidan is sweet, funny, delightful. (And also--seriously tall.) Yay! Except... he finds out that Carrie is a smoker, and he simply cannot date a smoker. (I don't blame him, I live next door to one, and that is quite vile enough for my taste. [Blogger coughs, in the manner of a tubercular nineteenth-century heroine, into her delicate, puffed sleeve.]) For awhile, Carrie thinks that she will choose her beloved cigarettes over the charming Aidan. But then she reconsiders, and decides to choose her potential beloved Aidan over her charming cigarettes. Nicotine patches for everyone!

We actually have a Stanford plot line in this episode, as well, which I have mixed feelings about since--on the plus side, I like Stanford, and it is always a pleasure to see his natty, witty self. But--on the down side, the writers are putting him through just as much Dating Humiliation as they are our lady characters. Rats.

So, Stanford is dating Marty. Marty is great... except that he collects dolls. And keeps said dolls on his bed. And is obsessive about how said bed-dolls are arranged and displayed. So when Stanford inadvertently breaks one during an Intimate Moment, it spells D-O-O-M for him and Marty. Buh-bye, Marty! Sorry, Stanford!

All right, to the Samantha storyline it is! [Blogger straightens shoulders and breathes in deeply.] Okay, so, Sam is dating Chivon. Chivon is African-American. Sam doesn't think race should come into their relationship at all (Samantha, to the ladies: "I don't see color... I see conquest." And yet... virtually all of your other "conquests" have somehow been white, up until this point...? I suppose that this is pure coincidence...?) Chivon's sister, Adeena, it transpires, does not want her brother dating a white lady, and consequently tells White Lady Sam to step away from her brother. Samantha does not do so. Sam and Adeena subsequently express their disagreement through a cat-fight (as the ladies tend to do--beneath our kittenish facades, we are all just waiting to pull out our claws--meow!).

Chivon is upset by said cat-fighting, and said dispute. In the end, however, he dumps Samantha, because Adeena is his only family, and he cannot bear to alienate said family by engaging in white-lady-dating. And so... buh-bye, Chivon! [Blogger's note: This storyline might not seem so terribly, er, terrible from this summary, but follow me to the analysis, friends, and the sky--it will darken.]

The Analysis:

Random Fact of the Day, Which I Am Going to Share With You, By Force, If Necessary: So the delightful actor who so memorably, upsettingly, and entertainingly plays Brad, Charlotte's bad-kissing swain, Ross Gibby, is the cousin of a dear friend of mine. I know someone famous, I know someone famous! (Or... am the friend of someone who is related to someone famous, anyway!)

LGBT Folks Watch: Stanford, of course. And Marty, who is represented as being more than a little loopy. Which--not too bad, as most of the straight men who pass through the series are represented this way, as well. But perhaps a little bad, in that they make him a rabid doll collector, who is obsessed with Gone with the Wind? Hmmmm. Perhaps this brings us rather uncomfortably close to Stereotype-Land? (Why do all roads seem to lead us back to that accursed, accursed land???)

Let Us Trivialize Rape, Shall We? What Fun! Watch: So after Charlotte's final kissing tutorial with Brad ends with her getting a severely brusied chin (let me emphasize again that Brad is a Bad. Kisser.), she tells her friends that he "raped my face." Yeouch. This is clearly a punchline, and me... I am not so fond of rape-themed punchlines! Trivializing and cheapening rape by likening it to boatloads of essentially slight, non-traumatic experiences... I am not a fan. A bruised chin is an irritant. Rape is a hateful, brutal, violent violation of another person's body and humanity. Ah, the difference between the two, let us acknowledge it!

Ladies: Sacrifice Your Work for Your Man, Already, PLEASE Watch: Now, I do not think that the Miranda-Steve plot line is terrible here... Steve is frustrated by Miranda's consistent negativity and pessimism, and tells her so. Well done, Steve, maybe Miranda could stand to be un-Cassandra-ed/Marvin-ed a little. [Blogger whistles "I'm Walking on Sunshine" to herself.]

There is a wee moment in their storyline, however, which I find irritating--Miranda (who is up for partner at her firm) is working on a weekend on a time-specific case, and Steve berates her for consequently not having time to go watch him engage in Basketball Practice. In the wake of said berating, Miranda abandons said time-specific case, and goes off to the basketball court to be the Good, Supportive Girlfriend, rather than the Diligent Lawyer.

This moment sticks in my craw because the series does not provide us with instances of this scenario being flipped--if we had scenes of Steve leaving the bar to go support Miranda through something, then we could all smile pleasantly at one another, shake hands, and call it a day. But as it is... we don't see such scenes, of our male romantic leads being berated for being too work-focused, and not enough lady-focused. Ladies are expected to sacrifice work for their gentlemen... but not vice versa. [Makes face, expressive of disapproval.]

I am all for partners loving and supporting one another. I am very much against our insane workaholic culture, which demands that both women and men work obscenely long hours, and entirely disregards the fact that they might just have lives outside of their professions. But I am also made uneasy by anything which skirts close to "ah, professional women! When will they learn that the demands of their work are as nothing compared with the needs of their men?" territory. Even my spinster self gets that sometimes partners have to make sacrifices (professional and otherwise) for one another, but I find it distasteful when these sacrifices are shown to flow only in one direction (perhaps not entirely shockingly... from Lady to Gentleman.) Boo, I say, and additionally, hiss.

People of Color Watch: In this episode, we have... two! Chivon, who is represented negatively, as an emasculated coward who can't stand up to his domineering sister, and Adeena, the aforementioned domineering sister, who is also represented negatively, as a lady both displeasingly narrow-minded and distastefully mean-spirited. Perfect.

Racial Politics, SATC-Style, Oh Dear, Watch:

Things That Make Me Want to Huddle Under My Bedclothes And Wait for the Worst to be Over, About the Way That This Episode Handles Racial Politics:

1) That when Sam first starts telling the ladies about Chivon, the conversation begins as a discussion of what a nice man he is, but then makes a sharp turn towards Sam proudly noting his possession of a "big black cock." Ah, a group of white women discussing a black man's body in such objectifying terms, what delicate charm it possesses!

2) That when Sam and Adeena have their catfight (which, in and of itself... sigh), Sam tells Adeena to get her "big black ass" out of her face. Ah, a white woman deriding a black woman because of her posterior, how pleasant and non-offensive it is!

3) That at the end of the episode, Sam condemns Chivon for being a "big black pussy" who is incapable of standing up to his bossy, overbearing sister. Ah, suggesting that black women oppressively dominate the men of their families, and that black men are emasculated thereby, how it does not remind me of long-standing, pernicious stereotypes about the "pathology" of black families!

4) That the episode as a whole suggests that we should give all of our sympathies to Sam, since she is the modern, open-minded, color-blind one, and not to Adeena, who is the retrograde, close-minded, excessively race-conscious one. Except... Sam clearly isn't color-blind here, since she shows herself very much aware of race, in terms of the way she thinks and talks about both Chivon and Adeena's bodies. (Surely, "Get away from me" is a more color-blind option than "Get your big black ass out of my face"...?)

And also except... Sam's blithe assertion that she shouldn't have to in any way think or talk about race or racial politics, because race is totally irrelevant in contemporary society made me think of nothing so much as it did Stephen Colbert confidently asserting that he doesn't see race, because there is no longer any race to see. ("I don't see race, I've moved beyond that, I've developed beyond that.... People tell me I'm white, though, and I believe them, because I belong to an all-white country club." If I wasn't already betrothed in my heart to Jon Stewart, sir, I would wish to marry you, also.)

Should Sam not be "allowed" (by angry black women, which... sigh) to date an African-American man, because she's white? Of course not. But should she perhaps take a moment to acknowledge that race actually is still a category which possesses meaning in American society--that there still is such thing as racial politics? That Adeena having anxieties about her brother becoming romantically involved with a white woman is not just her being a total bitch, but is actually partly rooted in some of the very nasty aspects of our country's very nasty racial history? Apparently not. My mistake!

Next Up...?: "Are We Sluts?" Ummmm.... no! There, that was easy! Ah, but is anything ever easy for us, gentle readers? No, of course it's not. Return to me next week, and we will consider the complexities of slut-shaming--slut-shaming oneself! Being slut-shamed by others! Slut-shaming others, oneself! It's a slut-shaming party! I'll bring the... ummm... whatever it is one brings to an "Using Terms Offensive Even in Middle School, Are We Not Over This Yet, Ladies?" themed Soiree!