Season Three, Episode Fifteen: Hot Child in the City

Welcome back, dear readers! How gravely I have missed you. During the long weeks in which we have been apart I have 1) graded a mountain of papers, 2) dealt with a mountain of snow (THIRTY INCHES of it, which arrived in one mad rush of a blizzard--"mad" being the operative word), 3) ate mountains of holiday-themed food, and 4) enjoyed mountainous clusters of holiday-themed festivity. I hope that your lives have been equally delightful... if rather less crammed with snow. (Seriously--THIRTY INCHES of the stuff. I really do not see the point of snow when I am already on vacation, and there is no chance of me getting to cancel class.)

And so, as we look forward to a new year (2011... has a nice ring to it, no?), let us pick up where we left off, hip-deep in Season Three. To recap: Carrie has just pulled herself out of a disastrous affair with the married, undelightful Big (an affair which ended her relationship with the unmarried, delightful Aidan--boo, hiss!), Charlotte is now deeply enmeshed in a marriage which, alas, has proved to be sexless, Sam continues to be deeply enmeshed in her campaign to not ever be involved in anything sexless, and Miranda is... deeply enmeshed in yet more severe and unflattering pantsuits. All right, then! Onward!

The Summary:

So Carrie is dating Wade, a profoundly laconic/deeply mellow comic book store owner. Turns out, Wade still lives with his parents, and that his primary interest in life (apart from comic books) is smoking "the pot." I see. What a fine prospect he seems to be for long-term romantic involvement! (Or... perhaps not?) In any case, Carrie is amply enjoying his company in the present--his parents have a gorgeous apartment, he has a festive scooter which he lets her ride around on (yes... seriously), and he is perpetually in possession of what I believe the kids nowadays call really high-grade "mary jane." I... suppose people have dated people for worse reasons?

So everything is rosy in the garden for Carrie and her pothead love--until one day, when Wade's parents come home earlier than the happy couple expect, catch Carrie and Wade getting high as kites, and consequently kick Carrie (whom they feel is a bad influence on their bonny boy) out of their apartment/Wade's life. All right, then! Buh-bye, Wade! Good luck with all of your future artistic endeavors/drug use!

Miranda, meanwhile, has found out that she has TMJ, and that one very effective means of treating this unpleasant disorder is to get braces. And so... get braces she does! Seems like a very sensible medical move... but of course, this being a Miranda plotline, it is also an embarrassing disaster. She gets food caught in her braces whilst on a date. She thinks her co-workers are laughing at her braces during a meeting. She feels madly self-conscious and unattractive in general. And so... she gets her braces removed. All right, then! Buh-bye, braces! And good luck, Ms. Hobbes, dealing with the chronic pain of untreated TMJ!

Meanwhile, in the Land of Samantha... Sam has a new client, the 12-year-old Jenny Brier (who will grow up to become Nora of Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist, notably--a film of which I am fond of primarily because of its stalwart Jersey-centricness) who wants Sam's P.R. firm to handle her bat mitzvah party. Hooray for a deeply meaningful ceremony, designed to honor a young woman's intellectual and spiritual coming of age! Or--wait, sorry, my mistake--Jenny is interested in her bat mitzvah purely and exclusively because of the excuse it provides to throw a decadent, star-studded, over-the-top party. (My Super Sweet... Religious Maturation Soiree?)

Sam is infuriated and appalled by the behavior of, and ideas expressed by, the extremely spoiled, hyper-privileged, deeply cynical, and potty-mouthed Jenny. She is also quite jealous of the gobs of money which the not-quite-13-year-old Ms. Brier has at her disposal, as opposed to the complete lack of cash and material goods which she had, when she herself was a lass on the eve of adolescence.

But in the end, Sam realizes that Jenny deserves, not to be envied, but rather pitied, since she has been catapulted into adulthood waaaay too fast. Jenny has never gotten to be a kid, but has instead embraced/been pressured into a shallow, hypersexual version of womanhood much too early in her life. Hooray for noting that the pressures placed on pre-adolescent and teenage girls in our society are deeply messed up! And... happy bat mitzvah, Jenny! Mazel tov!

Charlotte, in the meantime... is having rather a rough time of it. Are we shocked? She and Trey are still having rather dire problems in the bedroom--in that... nothing sexual is happening there. At all. Or so Charlotte thinks, anyway... one night, she awakens to find her husband (who had previously insisted to her that he just wasn't a sexual person, and that she just had to accept that), deeply engaged in what my friends in the nineteenth-century would have called "self-abuse." And using a magazine (which I hope is fictional, but I am not looking it up to check--there are limits to the research which I will do) called Jugs to do so. Lovely!

Charlotte is appalled by this "I'm not a sexual person, oh, wait, sorry, I guess I just meant that I'm not interested in being sexual with you" behavior. The marriage therapist whom she and Trey have started seeing, however, is encouraged by it, since it at least confirms that Trey isn't gay. (Shall you pour the champagne, or shall I?) Said therapist (whose methodology seems a mite questionable to me, but no matter--I didn't have the wit to study anything so practical as psychology when I was in school) suggests that a productive way forward would be to make Charlotte part of Trey's current sexual routine. (Lady being asked to integrate herself into her gentlemen's sexual routine, but not vice versa? Check! Lady being asked to adjust herself to her gentlemen's sexual needs, but not he to hers? Double check!) This involves Charlotte cutting up pictures of herself, and pasting images of her face over those of the ladies in Jugs. A proud day for any woman, to see herself in such a prestigious periodical, I am sure! It must be just like Dorothy Parker first seeing her byline in The New Yorker! [Head reintroduces itself to desk.]

The Analysis:

13 Year Old Girls Being Hypersexualized and Feeling Compelled to Grow Up Super Fast=Bad Watch: So as you are likely already aware, one of the things that I like about this show is that it deals with the lives of actual adult women--yes, adult women on the younger side of things, in their 30s and 40s--but still, women who are older than your average TV Gossip Girl. I loved all the shows about teenagers which were on when I myself was a teenager (IN THE 1990S, THERE, I SAID IT)--but it's kind of nice to have a really popular show which revolves around women who are already adults (and not simply "I am the hot, smiling wife and mother in this 'Vehicle for a Failed Stand-Up Comic' sitcom" type adult women) and centers on their lives and experiences--their joys and frustrations.

That said--I like the fact that they tackle, and the way that they handle, teenagerhood here. Initially, the women of the show are a bit envious of Jenny, who is just sticking her very first toe in the pond of adulthood (the lake of adulthood? The ocean of adulthood? Whatever.), while they are already wading through its challenges and disappointments.

But then they realize that this seemingly blessed Child of the Gods actually has quite the tough row to hoe. Yes, she has seemingly boundless wealth--but with that seems to come a life which is centered purely on surface things--on throwing the hottest parties, wearing the hottest dresses, being the hottest girl in the room. And that kind of life, focused purely on looking good (according to very narrow standards of what "good" is, of course), and being the most famous and rich person around... ultimately doesn't seem that interesting, or fulfilling? (Cough, Paris Hilton, cough.)

And of course, there is the fact that Jenny is, at her oh-so-very-young age, already enmeshed in a very distasteful sexual milieu. She and her friends make several remarks in this episode about how giving blow jobs is the only way to get guys to like you, how they all started having sex when they were 12 purely by default, etc. Yeeeeesh. Hardly the beginnings of a joyful, autonomous, freely-chosen, self-directed sexual life, methinks.

I think the episode does a nice job of avoiding "you kids today, with your sex" type moralizing, making it clear that the problem here is that these lasses see sex as a commodity to be traded for popularity and affection (rather than as... I dunno, an expression of actual desire?). These girls (who are, let's face it, still bloody children) dress in a hypersexualized way, and are sexually active... but they're completely disconnected from their own bodies, and their own experiences. They see both their bodies and sex purely as ways of earning approval, securing popularity, gaining love... which would not seem to be the greatest beginning, for them to mature into adults who shape their sexuality around how they feel and what they want--rather than what sex will "get" them with other people.

Perhaps there is some hope, though (it's a New Year, after all, let us not be entirely gloomy!)--after all, SATC itself focuses on four grown-up women, who managed to make their way through a culture in which "authentic expressions of female sexuality" are all too often conflated with "make yourself into a sexual object (along the narrow and rigid lines which pop culture/the media/our nasty patriarchal society set out) for other people's consumption and pleasure--forget your own" to become women who are actively and delightedly in charge of their own sex lives.

Not that this is shown to be anything other than messy and imperfect, because it's surely both... do the women of SATC sometimes still experience their bodies as sites of anxiety, rather than pleasure, worrying more about how they look than how they feel? Sure. Do they sometimes have trouble articulating what they want sexually, not only to their lovers, but also to themselves? Absolutely. But still--when it comes to sex, these are women who know what they want, and pursue it, and know what they don't want, and don't accept it. Hopefully Jenny and her young friends will get there one day, too. (When they are older, though, for the love of Pete, they're only 12. Slow it down, kiddos! And by the way... get off my lawn! Kids today.)

Ladies, Please Accommodate Your Men, Part 9,345 (Will It Never End???) Watch: Okay, so, I kinda hafta do a 180 degree spin here, because you know how I was just talking about how SATC provides such a nice vision of sexually empowered adult women? Yeah, about that... I still think that it does, overall, but the Charlotte plotline in this episode... maybe not entirely helpful, in supporting that point? So... just forget the essential contradictions between what I'm about to say, and what I've just said, 'kay? Good.

I mean, it's not all bad here. I give the episode some points, because despite the extreme discomfort and difficulty of the situation, Charlotte does keep bringing up the whole "soooo... we've never had sex!" thing with her new spouse--she wants him to talk about it, she wants them to go to therapy, she wants them to make their sex life work. Good, good, good--fighting for the not-unreasonable goal of wanting to consummate her marriage! I'm with you so far...

I guess my issue here (and you knew I would have one--you haven't forgotten about me and my issues already, I hope?) is with the advice that the therapist gives the MacDougals, which they obediently adopt. Clearly, if the situation is that a gent favors porn over his wife (refusing to even touch said wife), the solution is to... make her part of said porn? I dunno, does that really... get to the root of the problem? And remind me again while the whole goal here is to make Charlotte part of Trey's sexual habits and preferences? Should we also think about Charlotte's sexual habits and preferences here...? Shouldn't we also care, just a little bit, about what Charlotte needs and wants, too? I suppose not. My mistake!

Next Up...?: "Frenemies," which centers on... well... frenemies. (For once, the writers didn't get cute with their episode titles--what you see is what you get!) Though I suppose that the episode is really more about friendship troubles more generally (i.e., Charlotte: offended by the nature of Sam's sex talk. Sam: offended that Charlotte is offended by the nature of her sex talk. Carrie: troubled by Miranda's decision to date one of her creepy ex-boyfriends. Miranda: troubled by Carrie being troubled by her decision to date one of her creepy ex-boyfriends. And around and around we go, where we stop, only the writers know!)

A Call to Feminist Bloggers

So as you may already be aware, in addition to being the chairwoman and CEO (Chief Entirely-Unpaid Officer...?) here at Back on Carrie’s Stoop, I’m also an academic. And in addition to my usual scholarly fare of nineteenth-century women’s history, I’ve been thinking a goodish bit lately about the feminist blogosphere—specifically about feminist bloggers who write about pop culture (or pop culture bloggers who tackle said pop culture through a feminist lens…whichever you prefer--you say potato, I say potato, etc., etc.) What motivates such bloggers to blog? What do they hope to do through their work and their criticism? How are they responded to by their readers? What potential do feminist blogs have to not only speak to, but also to transform culture?

To help me get some answers to said questions (apart from my own answers, of course--I already know what those are, and I must admit that I do not find them terribly interesting), I’ve put together a questionnaire, and hope to circulate it far and wide to feminist pop culture bloggers across, well, the feminist blogosphere, and get their (I am sure far more interesting) answers.

I’m going to be presenting at two quite delightful conferences (on pop culture and feminist activism, respectively) about this research later this year, and hope that I'll have some neat responses to talk about by then.

Which is where you come in, dear readers—if you yourself are a blogger, or know someone fantastic who is, or know some fantastic blog or book or article which I might want to read on the subject… please do let me know! You can e-mail me with any and all thoughts or questions, or interest in filling out my magical questionnaire (fingers crossed that some of you wish to do the latter!) at backoncarriesstoop@gmail.com. It would delight me to hear from you!

And just so you know, I am treating these questionnaires much as though I were a sociologist/journalist (used to dealing with the living) rather than a historian (used to dealing with the dead)—confidentiality and anonymity assured and guaranteed, there will be full disclosure about how I intend to use the info, I get, etc., etc. You’d think I dealt with the living all the time!

BOCS Gets Drowned-in-Papers-fied

Hello, dear friends. I do hope that this post finds you all well, and keeping warm in this chilly winter weather (as applicable. It sure as sugar is as chilly as the dickens in sunny Pennsylvania. Brrrrrr.)

I write to inform you that I shall very likely be totally AWOL for the next couple of weeks (tears, violins)--the end of the semester is upon us/me (tears, gnashing of teeth)--Grading Hell is about to begin, and I reckon that the waves upon waves upon WAVES of papers which I am about to receive [braces self for impact] shall be keeping me away from BOCS (tears, and yet more tears) for a bit. And so--be well until we meet again, and please look forward to discussing the following, when we finish up Season Three, once we are together once again:

1) Carrie riding on a scooter, getting mugged, and deciding that sitting down to have a chat with Big's soon-to-be-ex-wife is a super idea [hand slaps forehead]

2) Miranda getting braces, dating a beautiful cop, and forming conspiracy theories centered on her favorite Chinese restaurant

3) Charlotte getting drunk in public, reconnecting with her old sorority sisters, and going all Lady Chatterley on us with a McDougal family gardener

4) Sam meeting a woman who is even more sexually open than she is, grappling with a bratty 13-year-old client, and getting into difficulties with some of the transgendered sex workers in her neighborhood

It shan't be dull, I promise! Much for us to look forward to, to be sure!! See you on the other side of Grading Nightmares!!!

Season Three, Episode Fourteen: Sex and Another City

The Summary:

Can we please leave L.A. already? I miss New York! But the ladies, surprisingly... do not. They are actually coming to like and appreciate the City of Angels. (That's it, I'm going to need to confiscate your "dyed-in-the-wool, until-death, hard-core New-Yorker" badges right now, SATC ladies! Hand 'em over!)

Wishing to fully appreciate all of the sun and sand (well... sun, anyway) of L.A., Carrie informs us that frequent bikini waxes have become a regular part of her L.A. routine. (To which I say... yeouch, both on account of the vulnerable flesh, and the yet more vulnerable pocketbook.) At the salon one day, Carrie has a miscommunication with her esthetician, and ends up getting a Brazilian wax against her will. Oops! And again I say--yeouch!

The year 2000--clearly, it was a more innocent time, as Carrie is horrified by having this done to her, and clearly regards being sans pubic hair as really, really weird (rather than as a default state for the womenfolk.) Meanwhile, in this year of Our Lord 2010, my students inform me that it is not at all uncommon for gals to start getting all of their pubic hair removed as soon as they actually have any to remove. Yeeeeeesh.

Anyway, Carrie blames her Brazilian for her decision to throw herself into a fling with Keith (played by Vince Vaughan, whom I believe was still an indie actor at this point... ah, the years before Wedding Crashers, they too were a more innocent time!) Keith is an agent for some super-duper fancy celebrities... or so he leads Carrie to believe. Turns out, he's more of a house-sitter for some super-duper fancy celebrities, as Carrie discovers when Carrie Fisher discovers her and Keith in a state of undress in her home. Ah. I see. Buh-bye, Keith/Vince Vaughan! (Is it too late to ask you not to make Fred Claus? I suppose that it must be.)

All right-y, onto the other ladies! Miranda has reconnected with her friend Lou (played by the delightful Sam Seder, whose Majority Report radio show helped me to survive the Bush presidency(ies)--thanks, Mr. Seder!), a formerly sarcastic, embittered New Yorker who is now a full-on convert to the sunny optimism of L.A. Sounds great! Except... turns out, it's not so much, because Lou has also embraced the "you must be thin and gorgeous" ethos of L.A., and has consequently taken to not really eating. Boo. Get thee back to New York stat, Lou--go out and get yourself a big ol' sammich at a diner, and start a liberal radio talk show! You'll be the better for it, I promise!

Samantha, meanwhile, meets Hugh Hefner at a party. Of course she does. And she is ecstatic, because he is her childhood hero. (Of course he is--what a great role model for the ladies Mr. Hefner is! I appreciate your staunch support of the pro-choice movement, Mr. H, but apart from that... you and I, we are not compatriots, allies, or comrades-in-arms.) She is even more ecstatic when he invites her and the other ladies to a Playboy Pool Party. Ummm... yay? The ladies attend, find it all a little creepy (SHOCKER), and end up getting thrown out after Sam accuses a Bunny of stealing her purse. Ah. I see. No Christmas card for you from Hef's swinging bachelor pad, then, I suppose, Samantha J.! Too bad!

Charlotte, meanwhile... is in L.A., too! After several more times trying to get Trey to talk about his ever-so-slightly troubling impotence problem and their ever-so-slightly distressing complete lack of a sex life, she gives up, and decides to jet off to L.A. for a break. (Ummm... I don't have a husband, impotent or otherwise, to take a break from, but mercy how I would like to have the ability to jet off to the West Coast on a whim which Mrs. McDougal possesses. Though of course, I'd be heading to San Fran and not L.A., thankyouverymuch.)

At the pool party, Charlotte ends up chatting with Ian, a gent who seems to be quite delightful... until he makes the unsolicited offer to pay for breast-augmentation surgery for young Charlotte M. (Ummm... can I take the money which that would cost and spend it on books, instead? I don't mind being Flat of Chest, but I would like to better Endowed with Books.) Remembering from this encounter how bizarre and dispiriting the dating world can be, by the end of the episode, Charlotte is eager to get back to Trey, and the city.

And this is a sentiment shared by all of the ladies (well... not the Trey part, just the city part, but you know what I mean)--at the end of the episode they realize that they love New York, belong in New York, and can't wait to be back in New York/back to their regular lives. Hooray for appreciating what you have! Hooray for ditching L.A.! Hooray for seeing the last of Hugh Hefner in the series! Hooray... in general!

The Analysis:

Recognizing That Not Eating... Is, Indeed, A Problem! Watch: I realize that this is setting the bar pretty darned low, but I must say, I find the fact that the show presents Lou's refusal to eat solid foods (so as to remain "suitably" slender) as a problem... is a good thing! There's definitely some messed-up and problematic stuff which happens in the series regarding body image, and I'm reassured to have the writers call a spade a spade here, and say that Lou's eating disorder... is in fact an eating disorder! And that not eating normally just to conform to a narrow and unhealthy standard of beauty... is bad! Excellent!

And I guess it's something, too, to show that men (as well as women) experience pressures to look a certain way, and are encouraged to aspire to a distinctly unhealthy body ideal... sorry to see it happening to Lou, but still--nice job, writers, in noting 1) that eating disorders do indeed exist in men, and 2) making it clear that such disorders are baaaad. Give yourselves a fistful of stars! Or maybe... go and have a nice, healthy, filling meal instead... I suppose this is more fitting?

"I Am COMPLETELY BALD": Revisiting The Politics of Pubic Hair Watch: Though, if I am going to be scrupulously honest here, I suppose that the episode doesn't really enter into the politics of pubic hair, per se--there is never the least question, for example, of whether or not Carrie and the other ladies need bikini waxes so as to be fit to be seen in public, for example. (This "keeping your pubic hair meticulously groomed is a sign that you are doing your proper work of Being A Real Woman" theme also comes up in particularly distasteful fashion in the first film, I warn you in advance--with it being suggested that not having a scrupulously maintained Lady Area is an unacceptable violation of femininity, and a surefire way of losing your man, to boot. Charming!)

I suppose I think that Carrie's "it is so odd not to have any hair 'down there' " moment feels noteworthy to me, not because the show does anything to question the idea that a lady simply must suffer significant pain and spend large sums of money to keep her pubic hair in "acceptable" shape (because it doesn't), but rather because it seems so quaint and touching that removing all of your pubic hair would, indeed, still be considered odd, circa 2000.

Because in this current world which we appear to live in, this is not so much the case, and the pressure for women to remove even the whisper of hair from her Lady Area seems to be quite considerable. Now, if a lady wishes to go sans hair, I wish her nothing but luck with and joy of said hairlessness. But I do wonder about the cultural messages and ideals which make hairlessness, not one option among many, which can be chosen or not chosen without judgment, purely according to personal preference, but rather as the appropriate way to be "sexy." Living in a world in which twelve-year-old girls get Brazilians makes me wistful for a time when thirty-four-year-old women found them rather shocking and outre. Ah well. Days which have vanished (at least for the present), it seems!

"One Woman's Pornographer Is Another Woman's Spiritual Leader": Let Us Valorize Hugh Hefner, Shall We? Watch: You may have already gathered that I find Sam's "I've loved Hugh Hefner since I was a mere slip of a girl!" thing a little distasteful. Growing up pouring over Playboy, and drinking in its messages about what makes a woman "sexy" and "desirable"... probably not the healthiest thing in the world for a lass? Perhaps it might be one piece of the puzzle, when it comes to thinking about why Samantha is so consistently obsessed with maintaining physical "perfection" (i.e., never allowing any visible signs of aging to, well, become visible on her body, etc.)? You grow up looking at cookie-cutter images of air-brushed, never-aging feminine "perfection"... this might shape how you view yourself as a sexual being and a woman, now, mightn't it? (I mean, I realize that we all growing up looking at such images--thank you, corporate media! Thank you, soulless advertising industry!--but I reckon that Playboy's passive, vacant model of female "sexiness"--perhaps even more potently toxic than the average rubbish which we all cope with? Makes you sad that the Playboy empire is teetering on its foundations, now, doesn't it? [Smiles to self smugly.])

I also wish that the show hadn't led us down The Path to the Playboy Mansion because it's such a bummer to see Samantha (who is usually all sexual agency, all the time) embracing the whole Playboy idea of women not as sexual actors, but rather as sexual objects. The Playboy version of female sexual liberation, after all, is about being "free"... to take your clothes off and pose sexily (but non-threateningly!) for gentlemen's viewing pleasure. Ummmmm... yay? Oh, and of course to be "free" to fit the extremely narrow mold of female "sexiness" on display in Playboy--almost without exception, young, white, blond, thin, able-bodied, heavily made-up, devoid of body hair or any bodily flaws or imperfections whatsoever, and surgically enhanced. Ummm... goody?

The closest which the episode gets to criticizing this unpleasant vision of female sexiness and sexuality is to have Carrie and Miranda react with baffled amusement to the parade of young, scantily clad, and often surgically-enhanced young women (and not young, not as scantily clad, and surgery-free men) whom they encounter at the pool party. Hmmm. I would have been more pleased if, when asked to attend said soiree, the ladies had refused and stayed in the hotel reading Carol Queen or some such, instead. Narratives which give women control over their own sexuality and are, you know, fundamentally interested in women as actual sexual subjects... I approve!

Next Up...?: "Hot Child in the City," in which we consider whether or not thirteen-year-old girls acting like thirty-something women is okay, and (correspondingly) whether or not thirty-something women acting like thirteen-year-old girls is okay. To the former, I say... no, and to the latter, I say... dear goodness, why would anyone even wish to do so such a thing? Being thirteen was dreary enough the first time, for Pete's sake--I am quite convinced that I shall have no desire to revisit the experience once I enter my thirties next year, thankyouverymuch...

Season Three, Episode Thirteen: Escape from New York

The Summary:

Okay, so, as the title may have already suggested to you--this episode features the ladies going on a road trip, away from their beloved NYC. (Or at least... the non-married ladies. Sorry, Charlotte!) A production company is considering optioning Carrie's columns, to transform them into a film (trust me, y'all, turning SATC into a movie or movies... bad. Idea), and want to fly her out to L.A. to discuss it. Miranda and Samantha tag along, and as you can imagine... hijinx ensue! And so... to those hijinx let us now turn!

Though I guess, if I am going to be perfectly accurate here, Carrie, for one, is not feeling terribly hijinx-y. She is, by contrast, actually feeling pretty darned miserable, in the wake of her break-up with Aidan, the bloody ending to her affair with Big, etc., etc. She hopes that leaving NYC for a bit will give her the chance to forget about Aidan, Big, and the whole affair mess for awhile. Yeeeeah... good luck with that!

Turns out, it's Matthew McConaughey who is interested in optioning her columns, and Carrie is summoned to go and meet with him. Now, I've always found Mr. M a charmless and vaguely creepy screen presence (apologies to The McConaughey, I hope that he's a very nice man in real life), and this episode does not in any way alter or modify this distaste on my part. In their distinctly bizarre meeting, McConaughey pretends to be Mr. Big (whom he hopes to play in the proposed film) and propositions Carrie--then shifts from propositioning, to asking Carrie why she and Big are both such deeply messed-up people, who ruin all of their relationships. Yikes. What fun for Carrie, on all fronts!

In the end, Carrie decides that what she needs is to not be interrogated by creepy strangers/movie stars about the mistakes she's made in her romantic past, but rather some time and space to figure them out on her own, re-group, and re-build her life. So that's what she decides to do. Sounds... surprisingly healthy and sane! Well done, Ms. Bradshaw!

Miranda, meanwhile, is feeling that she is too buttoned-down and repressed--she needs to embrace life, to be freer, to be sexier! Turns out that being life-embracing, free, and sexy translates, for Ms. Hobbes, into riding a mechanical bull in a bar, and tearing off her shirt whilst doing so. Ummmm... yee-haw?

Samantha... is not riding a mechanical bull, mercifully, but is rather getting to know Garth, a nice poet, who also happens to be a dildo model. (I am told that this is a very common combination.) Samantha very much enjoys sleeping with the poetic Garth, but has noooo interest whatsoever in hearing anything which he has to say, or learning anything about him. Delightful!

Garth says that he's been thinking about moving to New York, and would love it if he and Sam could continue seeing each other... Sam, embarrassed by the thought of introducing sex-industry-worker Garth to her fannnncy friends, and fundamentally uninterested in him as an actual person, vetoes this idea. But, as Carrie's voice-over says, when Samantha left the real man/poet/individual Garth behind, "she took the best part of him with her" (meaning, of course, the dildo which he'd modeled for, and had given to her.) Wow. That is... harsh!

Charlotte, in the meantime... is not in L.A. at all, but rather is still in New York, settling into her life as Mrs. Trey McDougal. Not entirely happily, since she and Trey, it transpires, never had sex on their honeymoon (after a couple of unsuccessful tries, they turned to playing golf instead... yiiiiikes.) Trey won't discuss the matter, and Charlotte is understandably upset both by said silence, and by the aforementioned Lack of Consummation.

Via the electric telephone, Carrie advises Charlotte about how she can determine whether or not Trey's impotence is physical or emotional... i.e., by wrapping a ring of paper around the unconscious Trey's penis, to see if he is capable of getting an erection while he's asleep. (I mean, is there a sitcom in the history of TV that doesn't have a variation on this plot line?) Turns out, the Paper Test reveals that... Trey is, indeed, physically capable of having an erection! Hooray, Charlotte is happy! Except... wait, nope, scratch that--actually, Charlotte is sad, because this means that she's dealing not with a physical problem, but rather with an emotional one. Ah. Tricky, that! Perhaps riding a mechanical bull and ripping your shirt off might help?

The Analysis:

Ah, Let Us Compare Men to Objects Once Again! Watch: So as you may have already gathered, I find the whole "ah, Garth, how I do value your gentlemanly area, but no other part of your body, mind, heart or spirit!" thing rather distasteful. Ah, reducing men to their penises! How it does rival in charm the practice of reducing women to their vaginas!

Now, I would not be understood to condemn Sam entirely and completely here--she's bored by Garth? Fine. (His poetry is pretty dreary, I will admit--but keep following that muse, sir! Believe in your dreams!) She's just looking for a casual fling whilst in sunny California? Fine. But must this translate into such a nasty disregarding of Garth as an actual person, as well as a (I guess talented is the right word...?) dildo model? Must this translate into Sam actually referring to him AS "A DILDO," rather than as a human being? I feel that it does not.

I also rather dislike that the primary reason that Samantha rejects Garth isn't it even that she finds him dull (which... fair enough, some of his poems last a loooong time), but rather because of the nature of his chosen profession. (And no... not talking about the poetry here.) When Garth brings up the possibility of he and Sam continuing to see each other in New York, Sam's first thought is that she couldn't possibly introduce "Mr. Dildo" (as she dubs him) to a room full of her glamorous friends at a Met gala. Are you bloody kidding me? Soooo... you support the sex industry, eagerly participate in it as a consumer... but would be ashamed to be on the arm of someone who freely chooses to work within it? I disapprove, Ms. Jones. Disapprove, I say!

Miranda Hobbes, Supporter of Rape Apologist Logic Watch: So in this episode, as Miranda is lamenting to Carrie about how much she wishes that she could let loose and be more openly sexual (which, fair enough, follow your bliss, Ms. H--but could there have been a better way to feel free and sexually confident that ripping a perfectly good shirt off, whilst riding a mechanical bull, in the middle of dive bar...?), she points out a woman wearing a short, tight, low-cut gold lame dress, wishing that she could be more like this Golden Lady.

Carrie instantly assumes that, because of the way that she's dressed, that the GL is a sex worker. (Of course she does. Because for a woman to appear in public in racy garb means that she definitely must work in the sex industry. Or... perhaps not?) Admiring the GL's willingness to dress in such an overtly sexy way, Miranda demands of Carrie, "Do you think there's any chance she's not up for sex?" No. She. Did. N't. But alas... yes she did. Our own Miss Hobbes, invoking the extremely creepy language and logic usually drawn on by rapists. ("I could tell that she wanted it because of what she was wearing," etc.) Delightful.

Except, nope, sorry, my mistake... that was actually a HORRENDOUS thing to say. The only way you can know that a lady is definitely "up for sex" is if she tells you that she is. Otherwise... no. Maybe gold is her favorite color. Maybe she had a bad day, and wore something festive to cheer herself up. Maybe she just wanted to go out on the town looking sexy, dang it. But--and please repeat after me, Miranda H.--just because a lady is wearing a sexy dress does not mean that she is signaling her complete sexual availability to the world at large. And affirming that she does... plays into the nastiest possible "well, if she hadn't been wearing X, I wouldn't have done Y" rape-apologist type logic.

And now if you will excuse me, I need to go watch "My Short Skirt" on an endless loop on YouTube. "My short skirt is not an invitation, a provocation, an indication that I want it, or give it, or that I hook. My short skirt is not begging for it--it does not want you to rip it off me, or pull it down." A-bloody-men to that, sister.

Next Up...?: "Sex and Another City." Yup, we are still in L.A. Boo, I miss the East Coast! I miss it even more when the ladies attend a pool party at the Playboy Mansion. Yes... they really do. [Pillows head in arms, and seeks comfort in sleep.]

Season Three, Episode Twelve: Don't Ask, Don't Tell

The Summary:

Ah, Affair Fall-Out! Let us wallow in it! Ooh, and also-weddings! Hooray!

So, as we know, Carrie has ended her affair with Big. (Thank the Goddess and all of Her saints. ) But of course, the pain and mess of the affair still linger... Aidan is none the wiser about all of Carrie's sneakin' around, but Carrie feels that she has to, well, make him the wiser. Isn't not telling him cruel? But then, on the other hand... wouldn't telling him be cruel--hurting him, just so she can assuage her own guilty conscience? Waffle, waffle, waffle--see-saw, see-saw, see-saw.

Anguished at the thought of hurting Aidan, but unable to deceive him any longer, Carrie tells him everything... right before they are about to leave for Charlotte's wedding. Ohhhh, dear. Great timing as ever, Carrie B.! Suffice it to say... Carrie ends up going to that ceremony alone. Aidan comes to the wedding later, tells he loves her, but that this isn't the kind of thing he can get over. He cries. She cries. It is sad. Booooo. And so... buh-bye, Aidan! See you in Season 4!

Meanwhile, Charlotte is getting ready for her bridal day. She is gleeful that her dating life is officially over, and that, after all of her years of wishing to be, she shall finally be wed. She is also quite happy, because her wedding means the advent of her honeymoon, and (as she reveals to the ladies the night before said wedding), she hasn't slept with Trey yet. (Charlotte: "I've been saving myself!" Carrie: "But you're not a virgin!") Her friends are dubious about the wisdom of Charlotte's pre-marital chastity (Sam: "Honey, before you buy the car, you take it for a test-drive!"--ah, likening men to objects, delightful), but Charlotte is happily confident, despite her friends' doubts, that all will be well.

And you know what happens when Ms. York is happily convinced that all will be well? If you guessed a word that begins in "dis" and ends in "aster," then by golly, you would be right! Unable to wait any longer, a very drunk Charlotte shows up on Trey's doorstop the night before their wedding, and requests that consummation take place immediately, if not sooner. And... it turns out that Trey is impotent. As in, not just in this one instance, but... frequently. Ohhhhhh, drat.

Charlotte confides in Carrie about said impotence... right before she is about to walk down the aisle. (Good timing as ever, Charlotte Y.!) Carrie tells her 1) that it happens to everyone, and was probably just nerves on his part, and 2) that if Charlotte wants to become a Runaway Bride anyway, that Carrie is right behind her. But, as Carrie notes, "Charlotte was 34, single, and standing in a $14,000 wedding dress. She was getting married." (I think I'd be likely to stay single and pawn the dress, meself, but no matter!) And get married she does, heading off to an uncertain honeymoon, and an uncertain future...

Sam, meanwhile, sleeps with one of Trey's Scottish relatives, Caleb, who has come to town to be in the wedding. She can barely understand him, because his accent is so thick (but I can, even when he is ostensibly totally incomprehensible... must be in the blood! Thank you, Scottish forebearers!), but does not care, as he is very dashing, and often kilt-clad. Having a penchant for Scottish gents in kilts... this, I cannot fault her for!

Miranda, meanwhile, is dating Harrison, a gent she met at a speed-dating event. At said speed-dating event, Miranda got shot down by every gent she chatted to, after telling them that she was a lawyer. However, when she introduced herself as a "stewardess" (good to know it's still, what, 1971, in Ms. Hobbes' head) to Harrison... she struck gold! (If you can call Harrison "gold," which, personally, I would not.) Harrison, it seems, is an E.R. doctor. Or... so Miranda thinks, until she accidentally cuts herself in his presence, and he nearly faints at the sight of her blood. Turns out he's not so much an E.R. doctor as he is an Assistant Manager at an Athlete's Foot. I see. Learning this fun fact, Miranda dumps him for being a liar... even though she, too, is a liar. Huh. Oh well. At least their break-up results in no tears or long-lasting emotional damage! I'll take it! Buh-bye, Harrison!

The Analysis:

LGBT Folks Watch: Stanford attends Charlotte's wedding (he is Miranda's fall-back date, after she dumps Harrison, post Blood Incident.) He is wearing a spiffy suit... but has nary a line. Ah well. Always a pleasure to see you, nonetheless, Mr. Blatch!

Once Again, We Have the "Gorgeous Woman Paired Off with An Ordinary-Looking Bloke" Dyad--Mercy, But That One Never Gets Old! Watch: I do find it rather annoying that, once again, we have a scenario in this episode in which a beautiful woman (this time, one Miss Miranda Hobbes) is romantically paired off with a pleasant but decidedly-ordinary looking bloke (this time, one "I Pretend I Am A Doctor, But Am Actually Not" Harrison Whatever-His-Last-Name-Is,-Can't-Say-That-I-Picked-That-Up.) Now, I have nothing against pleasant, ordinary-looking blokes. I wish them all the best, in all of their chosen pursuits and endeavors. And I have no problem with the heart following its own eccentric course--a beautiful person should surely (like all the rest of us) listen to The Feelings more than they should to The Superficiality when it comes to making decisions about who to date, who to sleep with, who to care about, etc.

It is just so mind-numbingly cliched and dull to see the "lovely woman, un-lovely man" pairing yet again/so unendingly and relentlessly in our pop culture ... I wish the entertainment industry would give that a sucker a rest. What about... pairing beautiful men off with un-beautiful women, every now and then? (And not treating same as a joke, I hasten to add.) And featuring not-beautiful women in leading, rather than in "funny best friend" supportive roles, from time to time? (Outside of the independent movie circuit, I hurry to note.)

I am all for the writers featuring a swain for one of our leading ladies who doesn't fit conventional standards of male "hotness"--i.e., Harrison is pale, rather weedy, and has some pretty extensive, unruly body hair. Nice to let him slip out of the Men's Health-esque model of what makes a gent attractive, to be sure--but pair this "we can embrace male characters who are not conventionally attractive" thing with the women of the show who are 1) conventionally beautiful, 2) perfectly toned, 3) meticulously made-up, 4) painstakingly waxed... I like it not. Remind me again why we can't create spaces for women to not fit the exacting standards of female beauty upheld by our culture in popular entertainment...? Ohhhhh, right.

Gender, The Professions, and Sexual Politics... Are We Presenting This in A Thoughtful and Interesting Way or Are We Not? Watch:

We Are: Ah, what a good episode this is.

We Are Not: Ummmm, which episode were you watching, now?

We Are: The same one you were watching, of course! And I thought it was great! Miranda brings up this super point about how sometimes women who are super-dedicated to their careers are sometimes thought of as unfeminine and undesirable in our culture. Genius!

We Are Not: Yeeeeeah... okay, so maybe she kind of sails near an interesting point there--the ways in which women in traditionally male-dominated professions might sometimes face some negative and unpleasant stereotyping about how unsuitably "masculine" they themselves are. Kind of.

We Are: Right, like, I said--this episode is a--slam. Dunk.

We Are Not: Yeeeeeeah... not so sure I can agree with you on that one, my friend.

We Are (with genuinely innocent bafflement, eyes open very wide): Whatever do you mean?

We Are Not: Wellllll... let's start with Miranda pretending to be a "stewardess." First of all--flight attendants had to wage some pretty serious battles in the '70s to get their title changed from "stewardess"--because, you know, that title is... actually pretty demeaning.

We Are (face falling): Go on.

We Are Not: And when Miranda pretends to be a "stewardess"... she kinda pretends to be... an idiot. She adopts this breathy Marilyn Monroe voice, and keeps saying these really dopey things... and maybe... suggesting that lady flight attendants are morons... lacks charm?

We Are: (suddenly downcast): I suppose that it might.

We Are Not: And perhaps is there a little flavor of distastefulness thrown into the mix, as well, in that Miranda finds Harrison the Doctor eminently dateable and desirable, but Harrison the Athlete's Foot Manager... not so much?

We Are: (brightening a little): Ahhh, but might that be less "I am reluctant to date a pleb" and more "I want to be with someone who is passionately engaged in a profession they care about deeply, and not someone working in an industry which they are clearly bored by, and deeply embarrassed about"? After all, Miranda was all in favor of Steve working in a bar... because he loved working in a bar. It was his path.

We Are Not (pensively): Huh. I hadn't thought about it like that.

We Are (eternally the optimist): Soooo... we kind of agree? A little bit, anyway?

We Are Not (sighing): Fine, fine, fine. But I stick by my flight attendant criticism!

We Are (cheerily): Fair enough!

Likening Men to Cars/Ridiculing the Idea of Not Having Sex Before Marriage--What Do We Think? Watch: All right, so, I think that the whole "Charlotte and Trey not sleeping together before they tie the knot, and the appalled way that the other ladies react to learning this fun fact" thing needs to be unpacked a little, here. For starters, I am quite firmly convinced that Sam's "kick the tires before buying the bike, or whatever metaphor it is she uses exactly" affirmation definitely fails my "if a man was saying this about a woman, would I find this distasteful?" test. Or I guess... passes it. Whatever, you know what I mean--the idea that you try someone out like they're a blender or an iPod, to see whether or not they're "defective"--not one I love. Let's try to avoid thinking of and talking about people as though they were objects, now, shall we?

However, I do think that the ladies are pointing to something important here, even if they're doing so in some problematic ways... said important thing being that sex in the Charlotte-Trey relationship (even before we get to the whole impotence thing which... yikes) has been a little wack-a-doo from the get-go. Unlike the ladies, I don't have a problem with Charlotte choosing not to sleep with Trey before they get hitched... but I do have a problem with the reason why she chooses not to do so.

Because Charlotte hasn't slept with him yet, not because of religious or moral convictions, or because of any lack of any desire on her part... but rather because she feels that that is the way to snare her man--remain chaste, and you get to be a wife. Ummm, seriously? Did we all suddenly get catapulted back to 1955, and I somehow failed to notice? (If I have to live in the '50s, what with the vicious racism and the severely curtailed opportunities for the womenfolk, I at least expect to be issued with some fabulous gloves.)

Also--I find it a little messed-up that Charlotte and Trey don't seem to have communicated about sex in any way whatsoever, pre-getting-hitched--their sexual pattern during their courtship seemed to be purely--Trey pushed, Charlotte refused... and that's about it. Ummm, maybe before getting married, couples should talk a leetle more about sexual matters beyond "no, you may not touch me there"? This seems wise?

So in conclusion--I don't think that the writers have done terrible work here. (Hooray, I love not thinking that the writers have done terrible work, for a change!) They make it pretty clear, I think, that the main problem with Charlotte and Trey is that, in many ways, she hasn't been herself with him--instead, she's played games, and denied what she really wants for the sake of appearing a certain way/maintaining a certain image in his eyes. ("Because what I would really like to do is sleep with Trey, I will steadfastly refuse to do so, so that he will think of me as a 'lady.' EXCELLENT.")

I wish that Miss York (sorry, Mrs. McDougal--a Lucy Stoner, Charlotte is most certainly not) was not now stuck in such a pickle/such an unpleasant marital situation. But to have the writers indicate that she got into said pickle (in addition to Trey's loopiness, which is certainly also at fault here--we must share the blame equally!) because of her refusal to follow her own desires, and her decision to value snagging a husband over making sure that said husband knew who she really was... not too shabby!

Notable Quotables:

Sam, at Charlotte's little bachelorette gathering: "Marriage doesn't guarantee a happy ending--just an ending." I hope that the York-McDougal wedding party has time to get that one embroidered on some napkins in time for the ceremony!

Carrie, on her friends, who have stood by her through the whole Affair Mess, and whom she knows will stand by her through any and all messes to come: "It's hard to find people who will love you no matter what. I was lucky enough to find three of them."

Next Up...?: "Escape from New York," in which... are you ready to be shocked? The ladies... escape from New York! Dildo models and Miranda riding a mechanical bull in her bra are involved. Consider yourself warned.

Season Three, Episode Eleven: Running with Scissors

The Summary:

Okay, mes amies, are you prepared for us to continue to go deeper into the dark, dark nightmare which is the Carrie-Big Affair? Do you have a drink handy? (Perhaps since it is quite early in the morning, I ought not to encourage you to drink, but... desperate times call for desperate measures, here, people!)

All right, so, let us begin. Despite her vows to the contrary at the end of our last episode, Carrie has not ended her affair with Big, but rather... continued it. And said affair has become less "we are living out The Bridges of Madison County/The Prince of Tides/Other Romance-y Type Novel Centered on Adultery!" and more "we are meeting at hotels with mysterious stains on the walls at 2 p.m., ick, I've never seen a bug like that before, oh my goodness, why are we here???"

Carrie's relationship with Aidan is getting increasingly strained, so tense and unhappy is she, what with all of the guilt, angst, and anxiety that she is carrying around. Her affair with Big is also getting increasingly strained, with neither of them seeming to know quite what they want, what they're doing, or how to stop the Freight Train to Disasters-ville which they are currently on. Do they want to leave their current partners, and give being a real couple a shot again? They don't know. One minute, they think yes, the next minute--no. Ambiguity, uncertainty, confusion--they reign supreme.

Carrie tells Miranda about the affair, to try to get her to slap her upside the head and bring her violently back to reality and common sense. (YES, good call, Bradshaw.) Miranda tries (bless her heart) but her efforts are in vain. Charlotte bumps into Carrie and Big outside of a seedy hotel, and tearfully reproaches Carrie for her "sleeping-with-a-married-man" behavior--but her sorrowful denunciations also do no good. It isn't until Carrie gets caught by Natasha in her and Big's marital home, and Natasha ends up tripping, falling, and smashing out some teeth, that Carrie finally gets it--she, and the affair, have officially come to the end of the road. She finally breaks it off with Big, after he comes to the hospital to be with his now tooth-deficient bride. (Carrie, to Big: "We are so over. We need a new word for over.") And... she walks away from him. YES. Peace in our time! [Ominously, under breath: "For now, anyway."] Feel better soon, Natasha! And Big... may I once again invite you to go boil your head?

All right--onward! What about the other womenfolk, who are not blighting their lives or the lives of others with their extramarital shenanigans? Let us see!

In addition to freaking out about Carrie's painful involvement in the Marriages of Others, Charlotte is freaking about her own pending marriage--or rather, her own pending wedding. She can't pick a dress! She can't pick accessories! The horror! Seeking to prevent her from having a mental breakdown over such Bridal Angst, Samantha tells Charlotte to hire a stylist--which she promptly does, one Anthony Marantino by name. Anthony takes Charlotte to Vera Wang (!) to help her pick out her dress. With the help of Anthony's sage guidance (and his relentless bullying of the salesgirl), Charlotte is, indeed, able to find her dream wedding dress. Said dress is very pretty. But though I like pretty dresses as much as the next dress-fancying lass, personally, if I had that kind of cash, I'd have bought a gorgeous vintage wedding dress for cheap online, and used the excess to gad about Europe, instead. But... Charlotte York's wedding, Charlotte York's rules!

Sam is also freaking out (what an episode of stress this is turning out to be!), in large part because of having met Tom, who is, as Carrie puts it, "a New York legend--steadfastly single, and sexually very active... in short, the male Samantha." (Nice that she's not the female Tom, I guess!) Sam would very much like to sleep with Tom, and the feeling is mutual. So the freaking out comes from... where? From the fact that Tom won't sleep with Sam unless she's had an H.I.V. test... which she's never had, and is terrified to have, for fear that it will bring her bad. News. Her friends reassure her--they've had H.I.V. tests, they're fine. Sam will have her H.I.V. test, and she'll be fine. And she does, and she is--but not before fainting at the clinic, waiting for the results. Ouch! That floor looked pretty hard!

Miranda isn't freaking out in this episode, so much as she is flirting with a sandwich. Allow me to explain. Every time Miranda walks down this one block, the Subway employee paid to stand outside of his franchise wearing a sandwich costume tells her to "eat me." (As Miranda puts it: "He didn't say it in the sandwich way, he said it in the sexual harassing way." Indeed he did--that is one dirty-minded sandwich.) Initially angry and indignant about being harassed in this way (which... yeah, I'm with you so far), Miranda quickly becomes intrigued and even turned-on by this Mysterious Sandwich Stranger (and now... you've officially lost me.) Oh, how the ladies love to be solicited by creepy strangers on the street! How it does ensnare their senses and bewitch their brains! [Buries head in arms.]

One day, Miranda asks the MSS to remove his mask, so that she might see the man behind the sandwich. He does so, and it is revealed that he is a handsome young man. (Of course he is.) Miranda decides, however, that their love cannot be, because "she was a lawyer, and he was a sandwich." Of course she does. Because rejecting a guy because he works at Subway makes MUCH more sense than rejecting him because he sexually harasses random women on the street. Sheeeeeeesh.

The Analysis:

Let Us Now Play Everyone's Favorite Party Game... Slut-Shaming! Watch: This isn't as bad as it could have been, I'll grant you--if this was a gloves-off, no-holds-barred, down-and-dirty slut-shaming event, Sam's H.I.V. test would have come back positive, and the writers would have stricken her with illness for her harlot-y, whorish ways. Happily, the writers are not so draconian... Sam gets to both live, and flourish, despite having taken a few twirls around the block.

HOWEVER. There is nonetheless some mild slut-shaming--or at least, some mockery of Sam's sexual behavior in the episode... when Sam sits down with a nurse to discuss her sexual history, the writers make a lot of hay out of how sluttttty Sam is. The nurse asks Sam how many sexual partners she's had, and Sam takes a looooong time to think about it, asking the nurse, after a good couple of minutes of silent tabulation, "ummmm, this year?" The writers definitely play her "I can't even remember how many gents I've slept with!" moment for laughs here which... is mild, I'll grant you, but added to all of the other "Sam, you are such a tramp! And your trampiness amuses me!" moments in the series--it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And while we're on the subject of Sam and the nurse--when the nurse asks her about her sexual practices, Sam burbles along quite happily until the nurse asks her about anal sex, at which point Sam drops her eyes and issues a muted admission that yes, she does engage in that particular practice. Not the first time the writers have suggested that there is something particularly shameful about the ladies enjoying anal sex, though I do wish it was the last!

"I Can't Have Sex with a Sandwich... Can I?": Ladies Who Lovvvvve Being Sexually Harassed--With Some Distasteful Class Politics Thrown in For Good Measure--Watch: Most annoying, however, is the Miranda storyline, for two primary reasons. Would you like to know what I think that they are? I hope so, for I am about to tell you, regardless.

1) Said storyline implies that sometimes, sexual harassment can be, well, sexy. And... it isn't, and it can't. There's a crucial distinction to be drawn here, I think, between enjoying male attention (which, if respectfully and not creepily or intrusively done, I reckon many a straight lass does) and enjoying men randomly asking you to give them blow jobs while you're walking down the street (which I'm going to go out on a limb and say nary a lass does.) The writers don't make that distinction, which I feel... is a little bit of a problem! Man who catches your eye and smiles at you while you pass him on the street... fine. Man who grabs, exposes, or in any other way highlights his gentlemanly area, whistles, shouts out X-rated suggestions, or honks his car horn at you... not fine.

Such behavior does not make me feel flattered, it does not make me feel desirable, it does not make me feel sexy--it makes me feel creeped out, self-conscious, and concerned for my personal safety. And if a man routinely solicited me on the street, I wouldn't start spinning romantic daydreams around him, I would report him to the cops and/or start walking down a different street. And in a world in which women do get harassed on a pretty routine basis when they dare to venture out into the public sphere (do they not know this is the proper domain of men???), I find it distinctly distasteful that the writers suggest that Miranda finds this harassment all a sexy adventure. [Blogger hits the buzzer--because I've just decided I should have a buzzer, why not?--to express that the writers have run afoul of her house rules.] Repeat after me, writers--being harassed--not. Sexy. For. The. Women. Folk.

2) Eager as I am for Miranda to walk away from Captain-Creepy-Sandwich-Pants here, and glad as I am that the writers don't end the episode with her having a fling with him (praise the divine powers of the universe for that one)--the reason she turns him down, in the end, I find to be quite lame. Because she turns him down not because he sexually harassed her, but because she's a lawyer, and he works at Subway. Ummmmm, Miranda, sweetheart? Didn't we have this conversation when you were dating Steve? Didn't you actually slap your friend Charlotte's wrist a little, for telling you that you shouldn't date Steve because he was "working class"? Didn't we learn from that that the barometer of whether or not to date someone is, you know, whether or not you actually like them, and whether or not they are the kind of person who will or will not harass women on the street, and not whether or not they are an investment banker, or similar? I... had thought so. But it seems not! My mistake!

Next Up...?: "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," in which we analyze and deconstruct the absolute rubbish policy which our government and military are foolishly persisting in upholding, despite the fact that it is not only patently discriminatory, but makes no bloody sense to boot... oh, no, wait, I'm sorry, the episode is actually all about Charlotte's wedding! (Yay, I love SATC weddings! Except, it may shock you to learn... this one's gonna be a little rough.) And the episode is also about Carrie feeling that she needs to tell Aidan about her affair with Big. (Um, yay, for watching people cry and hearts be broken...?)