In a city where cynicism is as prevalent as pashmina,
there is nothing more hopeful
than the "getting ready for the first date" routine.
His name was Will O'Connor.
He was a smart, cute urban planner Miranda had met at Starbucks,
when he had mistaken her latte for his double cap
and had offered to make it up to her by buying her a real drink that Saturday.
Samantha preferred the "saying good night to the first date" routine.
His name was Sebastian Wise.
For Sam, it was a very good night.
Meanwhile, uptown, Trey and Charlotte were practicing their new routine.
All righty. Schooner's got the sails up.
Yes, I can feel it.
All righty, I'm bringing it into the harbor.
- Bring it in. - Okay.
All right. Here I come.
Come.
Honey?
The wind died. I'm sorry.
After a week of the same routine,
the only thing getting up in their bed was Charlotte's libido.
As for me, my routine had become very routine.
I was spending almost every night in, working.
- Hello. - Okay. My date is three hours late.
I'm being stood up, right?
- Maybe he got lost. - Carrie.
- No, doesn't look good. - Oh!
And I'm wearing a new dress from Barneys.
And I'm eating out of plastic.
Oh, man, I'm sorry.
He doesn't even know me.
The least he could do is wait to get to know me before he rejects me.
Yeah, that's illegal dumping.
It's crazy. This hasn't happened to me since I'm 27.
I'm older. I should know better.
I thought I'd got a little smarter about picking them now. You know?
I can't believe guys still stand girls up.
I can't believe I'm eating a frozen dinner.
I'm such a cliché.
Do you wanna grab a drink or something?
No, I can't. I have to work.
I agreed to teach these stupid Learning Annex classes.
They're calling it "Bright Lights, Date City."
Ugh! I'm so embarrassed for you.
Hey, they're paying me 300 bucks a pop.
It's a seminar on where to meet men. Apparently, I'm an expert.
Tell them to steer clear of Starbucks.
Who would pay for something like this?
Now? Maybe me.
Okay, gotta go.
This dress is making a mockery of me.
I'm sorry, sweetie. Bye.
Please. Bye.
Stood up at 27, Miranda had done nothing.
At 34, she decided she wasn't going to take this stand-up lying down.
Will may have given her the cold shoulder,
but he had also given her his home number.
- Hello? - Hi. Is Will there?
- Who's speaking, please? - Miranda Hobbes.
Miranda, this is Will's mother.
Well, Will's mother.
I don't know how you raised your son, but he just stood me up for a date.
Will died today.
- They're starting to die on us. - Oh, my God.
At least you weren't stood up.
Thirty-five and they're dying. We should just give up now.
Well, on the bright side, this could explain why they don't call back.
- Hmm. - How did he…
- Heart attack. - Oh.
At the gym.
- See, this is why I don't work out. - Do you want to hear the worst part?
I felt so bad, I told his mother I would go to the wake.
- You don't even know him. - Well…
And it's safe to say, she never will.
Well, I, for one, am far from being dead.
I just got us reservations at Samba next week.
Oh, fancy.
But I could only get us a four-top.
Do you think Trey would mind staying home?
No. He doesn't seem up for much these days.
Charlotte, is everything okay?
We've been trying, you know, to…
Fuck?
Whatever. And it's just not…
Getting big and hard?
What is this? Dirty mad libs?
I love him, and he's trying, but this is so frustrating.
Of course it is.
I mean, last night I got so turned on, I almost…
Hey, you almost masturbated, he almost got it up,
together, you almost had sex.
Right next to my husband, I feel so ashamed.
Everybody masturbates.
- I did it this morning. - That explains why I got your voicemail.
He masturbates and he reads porn.
But when it comes to dealing with me, nothing.
- Madonna-whore. - You think?
Absolutely.
Trey sees you as his virginal wife, not as a sexual plaything.
You're not going to get anywhere until you change how he sees you.
I don't know if I can do that.
Yes, you can. Come on. You're sexy.
He should see you. You're something to see.
Oh, yeah.
The next night, I realized first-hand
just how many desperate New York women there actually were out there.
Wow.
Hi.
Hello.
Gosh, I'm flattered that so many of you ladies showed up to hear me talk.
Well, um…
The fact is, I have had a lot of experience with men.
Some of it good, some of it bad, and some of it very, very ugly.
Well, there are two million single men in this city.
I have dated about a million of them.
Um, and all these men are right outside your door.
So the next time you step out in the morning
with your shoes and your tote and your traveling cappuccino,
take a look around, because I'm telling you,
our little metropolis, it is stacked with men.
You never know who you're going to run into.
You can turn a corner, and boom! Bright lights, date city.
Could you be more specific?
Um, you mean, like, places to meet men?
Sure. Um…
Well, let's see. Uh, Samba.
Um, any sporting… Sports bars… Mickey Mantle's.
Oh! I've gone there.
All the men were married.
Oh, really? Hmm.
Okay. Well, uh…
Let's see. Um…
Well, I once met this fellow on the Hampton Jitney.
Of course, it turned out that he couldn't drive,
and he was on some sort of parole program.
So, I guess that's a bad example.
Suddenly, I felt like the bad example.
Uh, yes, you.
- Are you married? - Um, no.
Yes, you right there.
- Have you ever been married? - Um, no, not that I'm aware of. No.
Yes, you, all the way in the back there. Yes.
How old are you?
Look…
I'm really not an expert on men, okay? I just write about this stuff.
Then why are we paying to hear you talk about it?
Hey. Hey, come on. Be quiet.
She's older than us. We can learn something.
The only thing I had learned that night at the Learning Annex
was that maybe I should have stayed home.
Can I smoke in here? Is that all right?
No.
If you stay single in New York long enough,
you're supposed to get wiser about dating.
What men to pick, where to meet them…
But what really made any of us experts?
Wasn't our single status a neon sign that we couldn't get it right?
What if all these years in New York have only made us older,
more confused, or dead?
Are we getting wiser or just older?
I swear to God,
if they'd been holding tomatoes instead of Louis Vuitton clutches,
I'd be dead woman.
Or at least gazpacho.
Do you know that there are no available men out there?
Uh, we're at my date's wake, so, yes.
- Gosh. They were so hostile. - Fuck them.
Well, maybe they're right, I mean, what do I know about men?
All I have is a bunch of failed relationships.
- And one affair. - Thanks.
As if being dead-person adjacent isn't bad enough.
I'm supposed to teach another one of these classes next week.
What am I gonna do?
Hire a bodyguard.
This is my first wake.
Don't expect a goodie bag.
Oh, my god, open casket.
No, no, no. I've never seen a dead body before.
- Let's get out of here. - We can't. People are looking at us.
Oh, wow.
He's cute.
Was.
Damn!
See, this would have helped me.
A place to meet men, an after-wake party.
- He had money set aside for this. - It's nice.
"I'm dead, you're not. Enjoy the buffet."
Damn it, I like him even more now. He was organized enough to have a will.
And some very attractive friends.
This place is lousy with men.
Look how freaked out they all look.
That's 'cause they know any minute, boom, they're out of here.
Carrie?
Hey, it's me, Jim.
Oh, my God. Hey!
Jim. Hey, I…
Your hair.
Yeah, I know, I cut it for a real job. I'm an engineer now.
- On the railroad? - Civil.
- What happened to the band? - Turns out I really wasn't talented.
Oh, wow. Oh, Miranda, sorry, this is… this is Jim.
- We dated like a grillion years ago. - Or eight.
Miranda. Nice to meet you.
I'd ask if you two were having fun, but that seems totally inappropriate.
It is, and we are. Thanks.
- So, you were friends with Will? - May he rest.
Roommates in college.
It was weird, we were friends, but we were really competitive.
We were always fighting it out for everything.
I mean, look, he even died first, just to beat me to the punch.
- Bad. - But you laughed.
Oh, you guys were the classic frenemies.
Frenemies. Nice word.
- Well, I'm a full-time writer now. - I know.
- I'm a lawyer. - And I'm not drunk enough.
- Can I get you ladies anything? - Oh, a martini.
- No. - Don't go anywhere. I'll be back.
He's kind of cute.
- He's kind of an asshole. - Really?
Oh, yes, indeedy.
But he seems great.
Oh, sure, that's what I thought too, when I started dating him.
Then when we both knew it wasn't working and I broke up with him,
"Hello, asshole."
You know, like, snide comments, and rumor spreading, the works.
- But he's so cute. - Hmm.
- Incoming. - Outgoing.
- Here you go, Miranda. - Thanks.
I would love to stay and chat inappropriately,
but I'm due to give a toast in the other room.
So, this is kind of a working wake for you.
Listen, I'd love to get together with you sometime.
Oh, um…
Here's my card.
My e-mail address is on the back, and my cell.
Apparently, Will's death had turned Miranda into my target audience:
a desperate woman.
Downtown, Samantha was getting wise,
Sebastian Wise, again.
While uptown, Charlotte was getting nothing at all.
I'm telling you, we almost broke the bed.
You can't break a bed.
What does this stallion do for a living?
- I'm not sure. - Oh.
Hey, does he go to Mickey Mantle's?
You got me.
How can you not know anything about him? You slept with him.
I fucked him. He made me come six times.
It's good enough for me.
Stop it.
Why do you always have to talk about sex like that?
Because I can.
Okay, girls, simmer down. Mommy hasn't had her caffeine yet.
I… I can't take this anymore.
Oh, hey. Frittatas.
Sex is something special that's supposed to happen
between two people who love each other.
- Or two people who love sex. - Oh, my God! You're such a…
A what? What am I, Charlotte?
When are you gonna learn that you can't just sleep
with everything that comes along.
Hey, Mrs. Softie, at least I'm getting laid.
And you can forget Samba.
That girl needs a stick out of her ass and a dick in her coochie, pronto.
- Am I right? - Not getting involved.
I'm with her.
You know what? I don't need this.
Maybe you guys should forget Samba too.
- We knew this was coming. - It was so sad and petty.
- I'm staying way out of this one. - Way out. New Jersey out.
Okay, speaking of petty,
how upset would you be if I went out with Jim?
- Jim, Old Boyfriend Jim? - He called me.
Oh! Miranda, no, honey, he so needs to be voted off the island.
I know how you feel, but he was so sweet on the phone and…
It was eight years ago, Carrie. Maybe he's learned something.
I mean, haven't you learned anything in eight years?
Apparently not.
He's alive and he asked me out.
I'm a little fragile right now.
Okay, fine, go. Go.
And you know what they say, one woman's asshole is another woman's…
A-hole.
Well, as long as you're okay with it.
Later that week, Charlotte decided
if she was ever going to get Trey to see the sexual part of her,
she'd have to dress the part.
I'm going to get him to notice me, Carrie. I have to.
- I think that's a bottom. - Oh.
You know, if you're gonna go the lingerie route, why not go La Perla
or something a little more upscale and a little less flammable?
I don't wanna be me. I wanna be someone else.
Well, that's the basis for a healthy relationship.
What about these? What do these say?
Um, read my lips.
I want to be "call girl meets Park Avenue."
Then you're gonna have to pair that with a nice little cardigan.
Oh, this is important to me, Carrie. I need him to see me sexually.
I know you do, sweetie. I'm just not sure I need to.
You know, this is much more a Samantha job.
Ugh, please. I need a break from her.
You shouldn't be so hard on her. She doesn't mean to be hurtful.
Well, she was.
Well, I believe there were two of you ruining my breakfast.
You know what, I have enough problems in my life right now.
I really don't need any lectures.
It was my second lecture that week that was a failure.
And across town, Samantha decided the wise thing to do was
to take a break from all of us and go shopping.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Let it go, and no one gets hurt.
I think I was holding it first.
I know tae kwon do.
I know the manager.
You're spunky. I like spunky women.
- We're a dying breed. - No kidding.
I'm Claire Anne. Don't let the southern accent fool you.
I'm Samantha. Nothing fools me.
I tell you what, I'll let you have this scarf
if you show me where a gal can get a hard drink in a dark bar around here.
Done and done.
Well, my last date died.
So, the fact that you're still breathing makes this a huge success.
Low standards. I like that.
- This was really nice. - Yeah, it was.
You know, Carrie wasn't sure that we would get along.
She knew me a long time ago. I've changed.
I mean, back then, I was in a band called Uncle Ted's Ass.
And I could sit on my hair.
Wow, that's impressive.
You didn't hear us play.
- I'd like to see you again. - I'd like that.
- Good night. - Night.
The next morning, Miranda called with the post mortem
on her last date with Jim.
- Hello? - Hey, it's me.
Oh! Thank God.
I thought it was the Learning Annex bugging me about my class.
- When's that? - Twelfth of Never Gonna Happen.
Do you know, people actually asked for refunds after my first class.
- What do they know? - Apparently, more than I do.
I feel like a total sham.
Oh, easy. That's my friend you're talking about there.
So, I went out with Jim.
Don't make me say "I told you so."
Carrie, it was great. It was fun and romantic.
We talked so long, we closed the restaurant.
I think you're wrong about him.
I think this could be good.
Are we talking about the same Jim. Jim, Asshole Jim?
- He's not an asshole. - Yeah, not till you break up with him.
Come on, he says the great things about you.
He does?
- I'm going out with him again on Friday. - Go, Godspeed.
Carrie, I feel weird dating a guy that you don't like.
We should all go out.
Have a drink sometime. One drink.
Question. What do you know about this guy?
You've been on one date with him.
What do you know about him? It's been eight years.
Think about the drink.
Uptown, Charlotte decided this would be a good time
to spend with her real old friends,
the sisters of Kappa Kappa Gamma.
Oh, my goodness. Has it been forever or what?
It has.
It is so great to see you, Charlotte. We've really missed you.
And I have missed you. You have no idea.
Well, congratulations on your wedding. Welcome to the married old gals' club.
He is so handsome.
Oh, my God. I would like to trade my husband in for him, please.
She knew they would understand her.
After all, they were all married too.
I remember being a newly-wed. We hardly ever got out of bed.
- Sydney! - What? It's just us girls.
My husband can't get it up.
Perhaps, it would've been wiser for Charlotte to have had
a kappa-kappa-cappuccino instead of that third martini.
I'm so frustrated.
Charlotte?
I mean, don't you ever just want to be really pounded hard? You know…
Like when the bed is moving all around, and it's all sweaty,
and your head is knocking up against the headboard
and you feel it like it might just blow off?
Damn it, I just really wanna be fucked! You know, just really fucked.
The only heads blowing off were those of Kappa Kappa Grandma.
Charlotte.
- This is really inappropriate. - Yeah, we're eating.
What's wrong with you Charlotte? You're such a…
What?
What am I, Sydney?
Charlotte realized how much they'd all changed since college.
Her friends had become frenemies.
And to them, she had become Samantha.
Here's to new friends.
And gorgeous New York men.
Mmm!
Hey, would you like to join me at Samba on Friday night?
Two hot broads at a hot restaurant. I love it.
The reservation's for four.
Done and done.
An hour later, Samantha couldn't believe
how much fun she was having.
She had finally found a woman who was as open about her sexuality as she was.
I call the blonde.
Oh.
You are too cute.
I could just eat you up.
Yes, I could.
I'm gonna eat you up.
Claire Anne?
- Oh, my God. - Excellent.
Claire Anne, I'm going.
Wait, I'll come with you.
And you can forget Samba!
Hey, where are you going?
That night, Samantha learned she had a little Charlotte in her.
Just like Charlotte, she had a line that could be crossed.
Hers was just a little more to the left.
The next night, I agreed to meet Jim and Miranda for drinks.
Jim took me to an amazing poetry reading last night.
The unpublished works of Robert Lowell.
- He wrote his thesis on Lowell. - Really? I didn't know that.
There's a lot you never knew about me.
Another Chardonnay for the beautiful lady.
Oh! Thank you.
So, I… I lost track of you, but I always read your column.
- It's really good. - Thank you.
Maybe I'd been wrong. Jim seemed kind, funny, attentive.
There's a lot of sex in there.
It creeps in.
You didn't seem to know too much about sex when we were dating.
And still an asshole.
- All right then, good to see you. - Don't leave. Don't leave.
I was joking. Stay. I have really bad timing.
Speaking of which, did you ever hear his band play?
No. Uh-uh.
She was too busy going shopping for shoes.
- I do like my shoes. - Yeah.
They come in handy when you're walking all over people, huh?
- Hey, Jim. Come on. - I'm just reliving happy memories.
Carrie doesn't walk all over people.
She sure as fuck did with me.
Well, maybe that's because you're an asshole.
I'm an asshole? She's the asshole.
She never called me once after we broke up.
That's because you're an asshole.
She's the asshole.
- She's not an asshole - Thank you, sweetie.
You know what? Never call me again.
- What, are you breaking up with me? - Oh, yeah.
Ooh, the fancy lawyer lady is breaking up with me.
Like I give a shit.
Jim hadn't gotten older or wiser.
Once dumped, he would still dump on everyone else.
You are such assholes!
- Okay, say it. - I told you so.
- What an asshole! - I told you so!
Is it bad that it makes me feel good to say that?
No.
I can't believe I fell for that asshole.
Your date died. You panicked.
Yeah. You know me too well.
Hey. There are plenty of other assholes out there.
- You think? - Yeah, I know. And I'm an expert.
You're such an asshole.
Meanwhile, uptown,
the Samantha in Charlotte was finally ready to come out.
Hey.
What in God's name are you wearing?
It's supposed to be sexy.
Come on, Charlotte. You're my wife.
That's not you. Take it off.
Fine.
Charlotte…
Look at me.
This is me.
I'm not a Madonna, and I'm not a whore.
I'm your wife. And I'm sexual and I love you.
What are you doing?
I'm touching myself.
I can…
I can see that.
Good.
Trey?
I think we have a stiff breeze.
That night, Trey successfully screwed his wife
for a full minute-and-a-half before the wind died.
After Charlotte's night of love, she called the one person she knew
who would appreciate it the most.
- Hello? - Well…
He fucked me.
Oh, honey, that's great! I knew you could do it.
Thanks.
Oh, hey, don't forget Samba, Friday night.
I'll be there.
Did you come?
Samantha!
Having spent time with their frenemies,
Charlotte and Samantha forgot they were enemies
- and went back to being friends. - Good girl.
I realized I had become my own worst frenemy.
I had let 300 desperate women and one asshole convince me
that I didn't know anything.
But they were wrong. I was older and wiser.
So I decided to keep my second date with the Learning Annex.
Unfortunately, my reputation had preceded me.
Wow, is this it?
Okay. Wow!
Um… Hi.
I'm Carrie Bradshaw.
Um, I know you've paid good money to find out how to meet men.
And I have to tell you, I don't know whole a lot about it,
but I do know this, you are not gonna meet them
sitting in a Learning Annex class.
So, ladies, grab your bags.
Come on, we're not getting any younger.
Chop-chop!
That's right. Just trying to give you your money's worth. All right.
I took them around the corner to a bar, and took my $300 and bought them drinks.
Okay, Anne, the guy over there is checking you out.
Twelve o'clock.
Not everybody, just Anne. Just Anne.
All right, go over there and ask him for a light.
I'm already lit.
Go. Go.
- Hi, got a light? - Sure.
Oh, yeah. See?
Okay, one down, five to go.
Hey, what about him?
No, it's totally cool with me. It's fine.
- Excuse me? - Hi.
Hi. Have you met Liz? She works in TV.
Get out of here! I love TV.
Something in common.
That night, I made three matches.
I didn't even look for myself.
After all, I try not to date while at work.
So, I guess the old and wise adage is true.
Those who can't do, teach. And those who can't teach, do.
Here's a live one. Go get him, tiger. Go.
Run like the wind.