The gals invade Atlantic City
Here’s a question I often ponder when watching ”Sex and the City”: Are these four characters meant to be sexually stagnant in order to be entertaining? That is, do we love Sam, Charlotte, Miranda, and Carrie for who they are or for who they could become? Sunday night’s episode was the first in a while to show who these four friends could become, and I loved it and hated it at the same time.
There was definitely a serious girl-bonding theme to the half hour, to the exclusion of any Y-chromosomes on the Eastern seaboard. ”If we know the house always wins, why gamble?” Carrie asked herself. Indeed, the only win-win situation around, week after week, seems to be the regular breakfasts these four have together.
No relationship ever amounts to anything. Sex always has some drawback. And even the really nice guys that hang around tend to disappoint (i.e., Steve this week, or even Stanford in weeks past). On the other hand, those moments when an octogenarian takes a sure-to-be-framed shot from a disposable camera are always the most memorable and goosebump-inciting ones. You click off the TV and run to call your best friend and you bond about Carrie’s exposed black bra and Samantha’s painfully, hideously garish necklace.
So why was this week depressing? The women reasserted themselves as so close they’d ride the local old maid bus to Atlantic City. They may have lost a little something along the way (to the tune of a $1,000 chip) but weren’t worse for the wear.
Maybe it’s just that sometimes I want more than ”not worse for the wear.” I want the friggin’ runway, metaphorically speaking. I want Samantha to have enjoyed that pearl thong bikini and for Charlotte to have had a great one-night stand with the bar guy. I wanted Carrie’s first blind date in a decade to be at least good column fodder and I wanted Miranda to be able to lose her well earned lawyerly dough without getting a booty insult.
And I want them all to meet for breakfast and dissect every juicy detail over pancakes and waffles and hash browns without ever getting carb-related puffiness. Is it asking too much? Do we want these women to be living a mirror of reality or do we want them to play out all our fantasies?
Just a thought to ponder as the season really gets underway. What do you guys think?