The series had already ended when I was introduced to the four fabulous manhattanites and the show that changed television history. I wasn't interested in the show when it was aired, it seemed vulgar and silly. I thought it wouldn't speak to me, I thought I was too young to really get it. I was actually going to be one of those people who never watched a single episode of Sex and the City.
But then, at 19, I went through a devastating break-up. And as I told the story of the relationship over and over again to different friends, I kept hearing, "Oh my god. You're totally like Carrie! He's your Big!" I started to get a little annoyed. I didn't want my personal life compared to a TV SHOW. Especially since, by the way they were all saying it, I had clearly made some bad decisions and was being compared to a lunatic. I decided I would most definitely never watch that show.
But, one day, amidst a wave of depression while visiting my friend Divya, a sex and the city-devotee, between drinking Godiva chocolate liquor and eating baked cheetos, I was convinced to give the show a shot at cheering me up. The very first season was popped into the dvd player, and we started with the first episode, which happens to be when Carrie met Big.
Before I knew it, I had watched the entire first season in one sitting and was hugging the couch cushion intensely, my face bloated and pink from laughing and crying and gasping.
This is amazing, I thought, I can identify with these women so much it's insane. I've only known them for about four hours, and I already love them. I want to know more. How were they allowed to do and say these things on television? And what is Carrie wearing? Oh my god, where's season two?
I didn't get to watch season two that night, but I came back a few weeks later for it. And over the course of the following six months, I would watch every single episode of Sex and the City at least once. I was completely converted. I had never expected men and women of the world to allow a show that exposed, with such exaggerated honesty, these truths about women:
1. We think about sex. We talk about sex. We like sex.
2. We don't all want to get married. Some of us may, in fact, get allergic reactions to wedding dresses. But then, we may change our minds. Just don't try to change our minds for us.
3. We eat.
4. We fart.
5. Yes, we do analyze everything men say, do, and think, and we take it all personally.
6. Having babies is hard.
7. We can be independent and still be insecure about whether a guy's going to call us or not.
8. We like the wrong guys.
9. We hurt the nice guys.
10. We can be friends with each other.
Those are just a few. Sex and the City normalized so many things that the CRW (Committee for the Repression of Women) had controlled and thwarted for centuries, no wonder it spoke to women of all ages, around the world, for years. The show was a hit because we, women of the world, needed it. We were thirsty for something that spoke to all of us, whether we were dying-to-get-married-Charlotte's or psycho-dramatic-about-relationships-Carrie's or sarcastic-and-cynical-no-bullshit-Miranda's or horny-as-rabbits-Samantha's, or a combination of them, or all of them. They were us, and we loved them for their courage and their honesty.
I am, of course, bringing all of this up because I saw the second movie two nights ago. And I have to say, I loved it. Not only the movie, but the whole experience. I got dressed up- pulled out the Dolce & Gabbana and the Prada, met three girlfriends for cocktails (I had a champagne cosmopolitan, yes I did), bought chocolate and popcorn, and sat in a PACKED movie theatre on the upper west side with another hundred or so groups of dressed up women who were doing the same thing. It didn't even matter if the movie was good or not, we will always want to know what those four women are up to, we want them to live forever. We all had that in common at that movie house- we had been changed by Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha. They nursed us from our break-ups, brought us closer to our own girlfriends, started new friendships, indulged our passions for shoes, helped us discover what we really wanted from men, and told us that being dramatic, crazy, needy, sexy, powerful, romantic, horny, successful, confused, lonely, indulgent, silly, feminine, and forever hopeful was OK. Oh, and Carrie alone told us that wearing the most outrageous outfits around manhattan was perfectly OK too, changing New York City's boundaries for fashion permanently.
The girls were received with loving, open arms all around the globe, because we still need them. We still want to know what to do with our relationships, even after we're married. We want to know if anyone else thinks motherhood is insanely hard. We want to know that it's okay to wear purple and yellow. We want to know what to do when we run into our ex-boyfriends. And, of course, we want to watch women bonding over fabulous meals and searching, together, for the truth about love and relationships.
I hope they keep making movies, because I will always love those four fabulous women and cheer for them. They are icons and, to me, they are an immortal source for the study of women, love, sex, relationships, friendships, family, and, of course, myself.
Me, at the movie theatre, about to watch Sex and the City 2.
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