Cue intro music. I have watched possibly every episode of “sex and the city” since its creation in the late 90s. My infatuation first began because it was controversial and something I knew my mother would not approve of, thanks in part to the title. My admiration for the show developed through watching four well-dressed BFFs live and work in the Big Apple. I watched with such fervor I might as well have whipped out a pad and pencil and taken down notes. I watched these women go to brunch and discuss relationships for so long that I shaped my young mind to believe all of this advice to be the gospel truth.
I knew I wanted to be Carrie Bradshaw from the beginning – she had her own column, seemingly had no actual boss, lived in a fabulous building and basically went on dates with the most eligible bachelors and out to lunch with her girlfriends, all while looking impeccable. Oh, and she had Aiden. And Mr. Big. And a closet that just kept on giving. So anywho, I was all about watching and re-watching episode after episode there for a while, but then sometime between college and Chicago I stopped. I gave it up.
Now fast forward to the other night… I couldn’t sleep, shock!, it was late late, and there were back to back episodes on, so naturally I watched whilst I fell asleep. Maybe it’s just been a while, maybe it’s just a sign of me growing up, or maybe I’ve just dated too much…BUT one thing became crystal clear: the show is a big ball of fluff. Let me just go ahead and point out some of the ridiculousness that I observed in just 1.5 episodes…
1. There is NO way Carrie can afford a rent-controlled apartment in the Upper East Side on her salary. She writes one column, once a week, that is featured in a tabloid-esque publication. Um, try again, HBO.
2. Carrie’s closet. While being stylish and fitting nicely into the small space, there is no way that ALL of her clothes fit.
3. No one EVER cooks, ever, except for the occasional meal made by Charlotte. Carrie jokes that she keeps sweaters in her stove, but let’s be serious.
4. Carrie is engaged to Aiden but is still talking to THE ex, Mr. Big constantly. Does it bother Aiden? Not at all. It’s all rainbows and butterflies. Pretty sure this never works in real-life relationships. Also pretty sure it doesn’t work out for Carrie & Aiden…she ends up cheating on him, with Mr. Big. Ouch.
5. Samantha would drive any woman, let alone three close friends, truly insane. I don’t care how close we are, I don’t want to hear about what random you did the night before. Let’s at least attempt to keep it classy, ladies.
6. You don’t have to make a major fashion statement every time you leave your house. Nor is it necessary to wear sky-high heels every day, and this is coming from a girl who appreciates her heels. Let’s be honest, sometimes you just need to throw on shorts and rainbows and get going. You don’t need the tutu.
7. WHY does Carrie sleep in a bra? I’m sorry, no woman sleeps in a bra. It’s uncomfortable, unhealthy and all around ridiculous. I would like to point out that this has always bothered me.
I could go on and on, you can imagine, but what’s done is done. I know I’m not the only female who, at one time, fell into the sparkly trap of love and fashion that is Carrie Bradshaw. Sure, she had a few decent quotes and I suppose she did provide some valuable fashion tips here and there, but let’s be honest – the show is by no means a shining example for women.
Quick! Someone turn on “Golden Girls.”
Dating in your 20s is comical. With highs and lows only comparable to a sub-par romantic comedy, finding that special someone that you enjoy being around for longer than 10 minutes can be challenging at times. There is no such thing as a “type,” and although it is no secret that I tend to flock towards a good SEC haircut and Southern charm, I am realizing more and more that attraction is surprising and often times sporadic. You don’t always get what you want, and what you end up wanting may surprise you.
One of my most lovely friends has recently started dating a very sweet, ex-drug dealer, yes, he used to sell narcotics, who has a sleeve and several, ahem, unmentionables pierced. Now before you start asking the inevitable, judgmental questions, don’t. He’s adorably wonderful to her and she likes him; all signs point to go. I’m happy because she’s happy, and a bonus is that she is no longer concerned with her ex, a squeaky clean yet immature dope that could never seem to make up his mind, let alone answer a text. Did she ever expect to fall in like with a guy whose past reads like an episode of “Weeds?” Probably not, but the adventure has begun and she can’t seem to stop smiling.
So go forth! Date without abandon. Don’t be shy. Isn’t this what our youth is for?