Monday, June 16, 2008

Sex and the Shi**Y

I recently went to see the movie Sex and The City. I really wanted to see it; the previews looked amazing. I've watched enough of the show to know the basic lifelines of the major players. I didn't have a big boa wearing, cosmo sipping sendoff when the show ended a few years ago. But I did happen to catch the final episode a few months after it aired.

To me, the show was the equivalent of a beach read. It was fun, sometimes a bit indulgent, and every once in awhile I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching me watch. There was little to be found in the area of soul-searching and introspection. But there was much in the arena of fashion. Sarah Jessica Parker's alter ego has a strange draw on women. We laugh at her when she walks out in a tutu. And yet....we cannot help but wonder if we might look that cute in a tutu.

Anyways, it seemed like a great movie to see with girlfriends, regardless of the level of intellectual maturity. I had dinner with two friends who can make me laugh loudly and forget what time the movie is supposed to start. We ran over to the theater and jumped into the first open seats that had open visibility (i.e. no big fat man sitting in front of).

In areas of frivolity and even realistic marriage issues (helllllo Miranda!) the movie did not disappoint. And, true to her nature, Carrie Bradshaw did an amazing 81 costume changes. My friends and I laughed absolutely OUT LOUD at the very high-waisted pants, skinny belt, big floppy t-shirt and whatever the fo-shizzat was on top of the t-shirt. Even for Carrie...that was a stretch. It hurt. But not as much as some of the cheesy lines.

I won't spoil it for those of you who haven't seen it yet, or for those of you who are opposed to morally ambiguous movies. (Though if you are of that camp...don't see KungFu Panda, as the panda's father is apparently a duck....not sure what those wicked animators are up to) I was mostly just ecstatic to be out with friends, enjoying grown-up banter and making fun of the waiter who I think might have been frightened of us.

But then....oh then..... The movie took a turn in a completely unexpected direction. A direction in which, no matter how 'fun' the night was or how 'openminded' I could be about Samantha's antics, I could NOT approve!

Carrie took a severe (emotional) beating from a man. I'm trying not to give away too much information, because I want you to discover the grisly details for yourself. But after the sleepless nights, trying to find herself, dying her hair brown, she WENT BACK FOR MORE! I was actually open-mouthed towards the end of the movie. Was she so love-starved that she would disown her dignity, self-worth, and conscience? What was SJP thinking? She knows how (frighteningly) influential she is on the women of America, particularly those that much like the characters in her show! (Read what you want into that)

Ok, I guess there isn't a way around this. So here is your spoiler warning. If you don't want to be informed about the life-altering events of Carrie Bradshaw's life, turn back now.

Big left Carrie on their wedding day. Why? Because he wanted to be reassured that it was just 'you and me, just like you said'. SERIOUSLY?! Who else did he think was walking down the aisle? Sure, she looked a bit like a bird lady, but he should be used to that! He obviously just didn't want to go through with the commitment, and that should have been the end of the deal.

Carrie spent the next few months mourning the loss of her beloved, and of their would-be life together. This is totally understandable, as she had planned on spending her remaining years with him. No doubt she had imagined their oddly dressed children who hopefully would not look like Big. (What is the deal with ugly men in this show?) And then, at the very very end of the painful ordeal, she has to go conduct some last minute business.

It was to be the last act, a closing on the Big chapter. And of course, Big is there with his fugly face and awkward attempts at romantic lines. I wanted Carrie to pierce his jugular with the very sharp heel of her Minolos. I wanted her, through her haze of pain, to say something fantastic and walk away. Instead they got married in City Hall, with Carrie wearing a suit. She wasn't even wearing panties for a skirt or shoes that came from an S&M mail-order brochure.

I felt indignant. Had we been through the years of strange clothes and odd men to arrive at her laying down and taking it in the wazoo? Had she, in a fit of desperation, decided that she would rather be with anyone rather than be herself and LOVE HERSELF?!

In love, as in finances, we can never point fingers. It is always different from the inside. There are things that cannot be explained, cannot be defined or understood. They just are, and they are accepted.

When I married Austin after knowing him about five days, my family didn't yell or laugh or place bets on how long it would last. At least, they didn't do so in front of me. They let me map out my own path to love and matrimony, no doubt hoping that I would get it right the first time, and find happiness with myself and with my spouse.

I'm not sure I could keep my mouth shut if my daughter or friend did what Carrie did. Perhaps it is my tendency to keep people from being hurt. (I never say anything hurtful)Maybe it is because I know that marriage is hard enough when you start out on the best of terms. Or maybe I just hate big fugly Big.

Either way, why did she wear pearls to bed? And why did I think about wearing mine?

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