Many will not click on this post, citing the reason: ‘Ppphhh; girls.’
What they don’t understand is that when watching Gok Wan’s Fashion Fix with a Pot Noodle is all you have in ways of a steaming hot style guide, Sex and the City can provide a heavenly escape! – but it can go horribly wrong.
When you’ve ground down the entire box set and snorted it in one, as I have - until Carrie’s inane ramblings have become a running commentary in your newly defunct brain - the cringe factors involved become null and void. Four New York women are lunching, shopping and shagging, but you continue to bum it regardless. This, as well as the following factors, make Sex and the City Addiction a scary place to be.
- Being at a certain point in the box set is a state of being.
The ‘state of being’ comes within ‘The Cycle’ – beginning at episode 1, Season 1: (‘Sex and the City’); right through to the last episode of Season 6: (‘An American Girl in Paris, Part Deux’); and finishing with the first film, Sex and the City: The Movie. You do NOT watch the second. Then after a brief sensation of superiority you begin again at Episode 1; thus continues the cyclic glory. You will be at some point within this cycle at all times, without needing a helmet nor an Ibuprofen. It’s a truly beautiful thing.
- Recognition of the almighty acronym.
Of course you know what SATC stands for, it even looks like a word to you. And you sometimes say, ‘I’m going to watch some Sat-kuh.’ Because that’s the only way you can pronounce it, and it makes you feel exclusive.
- You relate happenings in your own life to that of Miranda, Carrie, Samantha or Charlotte – even if you don’t want to.
‘My boyfriend won’t commit but we belong together – what if he’s Big?!’ cries friend into her sodden sleeve, and you grip her shoulder in understanding. ‘I’m pregnant but I don’t know how to babyproof a toilet? I’m such a Miranda!’ says hypothetical up-the-duff friend, and you tilt your head in empathy.
And when your friend comes home with a bald, hairy-backed boyfriend and beams ‘I’m becoming a Jew!’ – well you just scrunch your nose with pleasure because your whole life has led up to this very moment. The truth is, anything from Sex and the City can relate to everything, whether you like it or not. Yes, from seducing the fattest guy at Weight Watchers using a Krispy Kreme, to taking the virginity of a fresher because he has the same name as you; it has most of your main life events covered. Alas, the image of young Corinne lounging in his Gryffindor boxers will never leave my mind.
- You recognize Samantha’s conquests in other, forgettable films and features.
‘Oh look – he’s the guy with the funky tasting spunk.’(Shall We Dance). ‘Oh – he’s the guy whose penis was so big it was like a wall of flesh.’ (Phone Booth).
‘Hello, priest that Samantha can’t ever bone’ (Saw V). Unfortunately, as you’re nearly always watching these films with grandparents or other distant family members, yelling, “You tell ‘em, Friar Fuck!’ would be inappropriate. But rest assured they were thinking it. Everyone was.
- Huge chunks of script are embedded into your brain.
Let’s test this theory… just picking at random… the episode where Carrie goes to see Miranda after Aiden has picked her up off the bathroom floor.
Ok – that was just scary. Give or take a few errors, I think that was almost completely right. Learn from my dispicable life mistakes and burn your box set before you get to this point. Or consider it, that’s enough. Maybe whilst you slip into your replica tutu outfit from the opening credits and lock your bedroom door.
- You have considered going on Mastermind with Sex and the City as your specialist subject.
.…..So potent are the intricacies of your knowledge. You know that the turquoise Jimmy Choos that Scout chewed up were circa 1996, and that Miranda’s first boyfriend, never featured, was called Eric. Oh, also, Carrie wore a BELT around her bare stomach once - as an everyday outfit. That’s enough to make you want to sink a few strong Cosmos. Or maybe just throw them, directly into your eyes.
- You have watched it enough to know that Carrie is a neurotic, whiney, self-absorbed little bitch who deserves no friends.
So Carrie is clearly, the star of the show. She’s supposed to represent consequences to actions, learning from mistakes; all the complexities, the downfalls, the deep, questioning, feminine ANGST of women everywhere… and I don’t like to cuss in my blog after once, my Dad reprimanded me, but y’know what? She’s a dumb bitch. Carrie is the biggest anti-hero there is.
Don’t believe me? I even found this on Google:
How To Be Carrie.
- Twist every conversation back to when the topic was about you, no matter how serious the current subject. Examples as follows:
‘You need a lawyer for a divorce settlement? Ask her about that girl who made a mean face at me, remember that? Remember how hard that was for me?’
‘I have a great boyfriend but I’m having an affair with Big, can we discuss that? I’m devastated.’
‘Oh my God, Aiden doesn’t like me. Oh my God, Aiden likes me too much. Oh my God, I’ve accidentally told Aiden I’ll marry him. Oh no, I split up with Aiden and now I have no money. Give me money, Charlotte. Charlotte? You’re a bad friend.’
- Scream at things. Such as rain. A closed museum. A squirrel. Wind. A heeled shoe. A taxi that is nowhere near you. Scream, scream, scream.
- Get food on your mouth whilst you’re eating. And lick it off in a really retarded fashion when a guy informs you of said face-food. I could list the times this has happened – jeez Carrie, learn to eat.
- Blow off your friends all the time for assholes, then do nothing but complain about those assholes when you’re with your friends. Big won’t give you a housekey? Good! That’s karma for standing Miranda up as she sat at a bar alone, just because he was cooking you some veal. You deserved that ugly swan purse he gave you for that faux-pas alone.
- Related: cancel on your best friend who has cancer so that a Russian pensioner can rub your feet and recite poetry. Hey – you know in Paris where a kid slapped your head and then you stood in dog shit? Yeah. That.
- You deny the existence of Sex and the City 2.
Speaking of Carrie’s idiocy, in this film she’s just crying out to be buried under a camel. It actually causes you pain to watch any of this seriously. The whole thing was deeply, deeply painful – as fans know. It’s a sore point for us. My sister couldn’t even look at me in that theatre, she knew the mutual pain that our glance would share.
So as I’ve highlighted here for the good of women everywhere, there is a dark side to liking Sex and the City so, so much. I could go on but I think for the sake of my shattered reputation, I’ve said enough. If anyone would like to join this SATCAA meeting and admit to their problem, I would welcome it – including details of any further symptoms.
NB: I dedicate this post to the strong, independent female warrior sitting next to us during our first SATC movie showing, who arrived alone, left alone and kept answering Carrie with ‘Mmhmm!’ whenever she asked one of her rhetorical questions. You keep answering those questions, girl! Hey – can’t no one answer those questions but YOU. Peace <3.