So, it’s been a while. Technically, the majority of this post was written in May, when I intended to publish it, but things happened; a friend got married and I was busy with that for 7 weeks, Prince died and writing about four privileged white girls seemed frivolous (it is frivolous), and because I absolutely HATE this episode, motivation to finish it was pretty low. But some how that motivation got a recharge and I’m back to this crazy ass project. I’m just jumping in from where I left off in May, so if there are any dated references, I didn’t update any of the old stuff.
Carrie and her bucket hat have been invited to the Hamptons for the weekend by her friends, “perfect couple,” Patience and Peter. As payback for their generosity, Carrie’s good friends (every goddamn person Carrie runs into on this show outside of the girls is a “good friend”) demand that she regale them with tales of her Single Gal Sexual Exploits, you know, like in any normal, healthy friendship.
In the morning, Carrie is greeted by more than just her friend Peter—he brought his friend Little Peter along to say good morning.
Peter is so damn nonchalant about it too. He just stands there in his t-shirt; (no underpants, but at least Carrie was spared the sight of Peter’s man nipples) he just casually sips his coffee. It’s so weird and awkward. Perplexed, Carrie just walks away. Perplexed, I wonder why I’m even doing this, yet I continue.
First of all, that is unsanitary af. I would not drink or eat anything made in that kitchen. Secondly, this is worse than an unsolicited dick pic. Because it’s LIVE! Unsolicited dick live show.
Peter might be a good friend, but he is a terrible host.
By the time Patience returns with juice and ~the good muffins~, Peter has managed to find pants, thank god. He’s super ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about the whole thing, of course. Typical. Carrie congratulates Patience on Peter’s dick, but Patience has no (sorry!) patience for whatever the hell is happening and Carrie is unceremoniously shipped back to the city.
Luckily, she’s just in time for lunch with the girls. She’s also inexplicably tied her cardigan, not around her waist like a normal person, but under her arms and across her chest, probably because Patricia Field drank 160 Cosmos before she styled SJP for this episode.
Samantha theorizes that Peter probably just wanted to “show it off, like a monkey,” and then asks how big it was because Samantha. Lucky for us, their server asks the ladies right at that exact moment if they want freshly ground pepper, allowing Carrie to gesture at the pepper mill with all the subtlety of an elephant stampede.
Carrie tells them how she told Patience it wasn’t a big (heh) deal, but that Patience thought it was (😂) and Carrie can’t seem to understand why—it’s because her Single Gal brain isn’t as developed as Patience’s Married Lady brain, duh.
Obviously, this means that marrieds hate singles and that single girls steal away married men for ritual sacrifice.
I mean, Patience has every right in the world to feel that it’s a big deal that her husband had his dick hanging out for their friend to see. A dude hanging his junk for anyone to see without their consent is gross. It’s doubley gross he does it to a friend, and tripley gross because he’s married and it’s not that kind of marriage. But, Patience doesn’t have a right to be mad at Carrie (maybe for congratulating Peter’s peen) because Carrie didn’t do anything wrong—the blame lies solely with her gross husband. Buuuuuuut, if Patience was rational then we wouldn’t have an episode! To be fair though, Patience doesn’t look happy with ol’ Pete either.
Miranda thinks that marrieds pity singles and Charlotte, of course, defends marriage since it’s “the sorority she desperately wants to pledge.” (I’m rolling my eyes so hard rn). She does relent somewhat when she adds that her married friends treat her differently.
Apparently marrieds are the enemy.
Then we get good ol’ Stanford wearing the kind of hat that the bass player of a ska-reggae band would’ve worn in the 90’s as he laments to Carrie that even the gays are getting into the marrying game. They’re all flying off to Hawaii specifically to make Stanford feel inferior.
And as if on cue, they run into Carrie’s old friend (whom she hasn’t seen since he came out, but you know, he’s a good friend) Joe, with his husband Lou. Joe asks Carrie if she’s married and she says “not really,” (BITCH, YOU’RE SINGLE!)
This is the age before everyone had Facebook and inundated their friends with overly staged engagement announcements and wedding hashtags, but you know if Carrie had Facebook her relationship status would be set to “it’s complicated,” permanently.
And Joe, right there in the middle of the street, asks Carrie for one of her “top notch” eggs (top notch? SHE SMOKES!) because that’s a totally normal thing to ask a friend who didn’t even know you were out of the closet.
Carrie is insulted and calls it “single bashing for a new millennium” because this one bizarro event has equated Carrie—and thus all single girls—to being walking egg farms.
This is obviously because Miranda has short hair and a fabulous power lesbian wardrobe, plus she is always lambasting men and she plays softball, so in the SATC universe, Miranda is a pretty typical lesbian; anybody could make that mistake.
And even though she’s offended by the assumption that just because she’s single she must be gay, Miranda has no problem exploiting this for her own personal gain. Her boss, Chip, invites Miranda and Syd, her blind date, to a dinner party, and if it means making partner at her firm, Miranda will impersonate a lesbian to make that happen!
What’s to figure out? Some people are just not in relationships, whether by choice or no, it doesn’t seem that difficult a concept to understand, but then again, Carrie is a sex anthropologist and must get to the bottom of this confounding mystery.
And in the name of research Carrie has lunch with her favourite married couple: Lisa and David. Lisa and David are cool marrieds, you guys! They feed each other French fries and make jokes about being married! That’s how you know they are super chill.
Lisa asks Carrie how she feels about being single (eyeroll gif) and Carrie tells them it’s not so bad except for when her family sits her at the kids table because I guess unless you’ve legally saddled yourself to another person, you’ll be treated like a child (uh, Carrie and I are cousins, probably). And just as Carrie begins to wonder if she’ll ever be the marrying kind, entirely by coincidence, Lisa and David’s friend runs into them at lunch. Real subtle guys.
Some coffee and taramisu later, Carrie and Sean like each other enough to see some movies together. She even helps him pick out a Williams Sonoma cheese grater (which will run you anywhere from $14 – $40). That’s fun.
Carrie compares Sean to a DKNY dress—something you’d never buy, but you try on because of proximity, or something. Do people not buy DKNY? How does Donna Karen stay in business?
Elsewhere, Miranda has her best power-lesbian suit on having attended Chip’s dinner party as an undercover lesbian. It’s got all the makings of one of those ill-conceived hipster white-girl experiments where they try wearing a hijab for a day to try and see what it’s like to live like a hijab-wearing woman without actually listening to the experiences of those women, except Miranda doesn’t go home to write a blog about it.
Instead, Miranda screws up her courage and bravely comes out of the non-gay closet to her boss.
Chip is cool with Miranda being being straight, but he’s disappointed that his pet gay really wasn’t, forever ruining the “diverse” dinner parties his nameless WASP wife plans her life around. Tragic.
Miranda and Syd leave and Miranda figures she’d better make sure she’s not at least a little bit gay, so she kisses Syd in the elevator and confirms for herself (and Syd) that she indeed isn’t a lesbian.
I wonder what Syd got out of this wackadoo situation besides a totes awkward elevator kiss and a free dinner.
While Miranda was rising above the oppression of her short hair and sartorial choices, the rest of our intrepid singles head to the Upper West Side to Sean’s house warming party. Carrie calls it “Noah’s-West-Side-Rent-Controlled-Ark,” because the party was full of a bunch of straight white couples.
Samantha immediately goes off to ply herself with booze in order to lessen the impact of being around a bunch of gross marrieds, while Carrie and Charlotte take a tour of Sean’s apartment, which ends in Sean’s office/future nursery.
He emphasizes this by pulling out a baby mobile he bought on a whim.
Dude, I buy gummy Cokes on a whim, I buy lipstick on a whim, I buy notebooks on a whim. Mobiles are not a whim kind of purchase. Like, where are you shopping that you just happen upon a mobile that makes you think “eh, what the hell ¯\_(ツ)_/¯?”
Charlotte’s uterus is going bonkers and she gets all up in Carrie’s grill about how when a dude buys a “classic six on the Upper West Side” he is basically a peacock strutting around with his iridescent feathers waggling about hoping some poor woman will be distracted long enough for him to lock it down.
Charlotte’s entire reproductive system wants to eat Carrie alive for landing this dude before she had the chance to meet him.
Samantha, meanwhile, is doing a shot of tequila for every married dude she’s boned who is on the ark with his wife.
Patience seems to have forgiven Carrie for having to working eyeballs; it’s implied that Parience has found her, er, patience with Carrie because now Carrie is with Sean, the marrying guy. If ever a threat was removed it would be by casually dating a dude who buys baby accessories on a whim and $40 cheese graters.
Samantha bursts out laughing and exclaims “I know you! You’re big peppermill dick!” at Carrie’s introduction. And with that, the girls exit stage left.
Charlotte, seeing how drunk Samantha is, insists Sam sleep on her couch rather than going back to her own place because Charlotte is a good friend— you know Carrie would’ve never offered.
As they head into Charlotte’s building, Samantha makes eyes at the doorman because Samantha, and then she and Charlotte have a rousing game of truth or dare, make a few prank calls, and have a pillow fight in their nighties before going to bed.
But Sam can’t sleep. Samantha doesn’t count sheep, she counts dick, and the only D she wants right now is downstairs manning the door.
Samantha goes down to the doorman enrobed in what I can only call a fur seduction wrap, with a cute black bra and panty set that shows off her SPECTACULAR abs. Needless to say, she brings the little Irish lad upstairs for a shag.
While Samantha was seducing the doorman (who, I assume, headed right back to Ireland to nurse his poor little broken heart), Sean wants Carrie to stay the night—he’s seducing her with his ability to clean up after the housewarming. And when Carrie turns him down (she can smell his desperation, which probably smells like a Chestnut & Praline Bath and Bodyworks candle) Sean gets all worked up about how “you” women (uh, thanks, Sean) all want to get married apparently, but none are willing to take him up on his offer.
1. Probably because your pants are ugly, Sean,
2. You buy baby mobiles whimsically. That’s weird, Sean,
3. And your pants are really fucking ugly, like super ugly. They’re terrible.
Carrie apparently think so as well because she spends very little time before she sets Charlotte up with her leftovers. But no matter how desperate Charlotte is to hyphenate her last name with that of a man’s, she draws the line at a man who prefers American Classic china. Only French Country will do for Charlotte York, fellas.
Oh my God, I almost forgot to talk about this episode fourth wall-breaking montage.
I have very little will left to live after being reminded of the fourth wall breakers in this episode and it’s making it difficult to even want to write the rest of this post. But, I’m this far in, so what’s wading through a little more crap, right?
So, anyway, we have Shitty Lady #1, sitting at a bar with her probably equally shitty husband. She’s talking about how after she got married she didn’t like seeing her single friends. She didn’t like being reminded
that she’s A SHITTY SHITTY LADY of how desperate she used to be. First of all, this chick is such a shitty friend. Second, don’t put that desperate shit on your friends, Shitty Lady! Third, your single friends are better off without you—fuck you and the high shitty horse that you made your tacky wedding entrance on.
Next we get Shitty Lady #2, complaining about how her married friends are gross monsterous “we’s” rather than 2 independent individual personalities who have chosen to be together (tbf, that we shit bugs me too, but whatever).
Next we get Sir Whines A Lot, wah-wahing about he never gets to see his best bro anymore because Best Bro got ball and chained. Now Whiney McWhinerson is sad because his fwend is only allowed to come out and play on Super Bowl Sunday. It’s a modern tragedy. Shakespeare would’ve written a play about it.
Back to Shitty Lady #1. This chick is going on and on about how fucking amazing she is because she decided to grow up and be a real adult, unlike her desperate single friends who are living in an extended adolescence. WHAT A BITCH! I bet she’s one of those women who had to give her very lucky husband an ultimatum to get him to propose, so congrats Shitty Lady. I bet they’re divorced now.
This illustrious episode ends with “Respect” playing as Carrie saunters down the street, while she voice overs about how marrieds and singles are like the war in Northern Ireland, essentially the same, but different—so, you know, not the same, but whatever, Carrie is the professional writer around here.
She meets up with the ladies at the theatre, because if they can’t have husbands, at least singles can still go to the movies, or something.
1. Big Pepper Mill Dick Peter
2. The egg hunters
3. Cool-married David
4. Every-woman-with-short-hair-is-a-lesbian, probably Jeff
5. We-need-a-lesbian-for-our-dinner-parties, boss man Chip
6. Bad-Pants-Marrying-Guy Sean
7. Vag-matized Irish doorman
8. Sir Whines A Lot, aka: Whiney McWhinerson
2 $40 cheese graters out of 10 big pepper mills