High fashion. Exclusive night clubs. Independence. Successful careers. Confidence. New York City. Throughout my 20’s, I idolized Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte on “Sex and the City.” I thought they were teaching me to be a thoroughly modern me; however, as I approach my 40th birthday, I can’t help but wonder how the characters ultimately disappointed me.
To be honest, Charlotte got on my nerves. She felt too desperate for the fairy tale, so much so that this shiksa converted for Harry. Maybe the writers wanted me to be proud of Charlotte’s arc – marrying the funny Jew after being hurt by the dashing doctor. Everything, though, fell perfectly into place: the second marriage, the adoption, the pregnancy. I know I should take comfort in the fact that Kristin Davis is the antithesis of Charlotte – a single yogi – but it doesn’t make up for this weak character. Charlotte’s only redeeming moment is when she tells off Big in movie #1 as her water breaks.
Remember in season 2 when Miranda pretended to be gay at her law firm? The writers should have run with that: Miranda comes out, and we never have to suffer through her one-ball/one-baby story line with Steve. Also, what’s stranger than fiction! Cynthia Nixon dumped her husband and married a woman after the show wrapped. Miranda’s homosexuality would have actually added diversity to the cast of four white heterosexual women. (I’m shaking my head at HBO, Darren Star, and Michael Patrick King.)
Before Buzzfeed quizzes existed, friends would ask, “Which character are you most like?” Everyone wanted to be Carrie. Her frizzy mop transformed into a long, sleak coiffure, and, as her hair changed, we hoped that maybe Carrie did too. I’m not one of those whiny fans who wishes she married Aidan (I mean yes, but that’s not the point). She wasn’t supposed to be like everyone else. The show – I thought – prided itself on creating strong women who didn’t fall into the stereotypical tropes of marriage. Instead, “Sex and the City” and its subsequent movies purposely partner Carrie with the man who broke her heart multiple times. This is not fate or true love. This is bullshit. I know many fans need that romantic resolution of guy gets girl and lives happily ever after, but what if there was another way? What happened to feminism, people? Why can’t Carrie stay single in the end?
And this leads me to Samantha, the real hero of the show! She wore a pearl thong (not a healthy life choice). She dated men and women. She dated people younger and older than herself. She spoke her mind freely and unapologetically. She fought and beat breast cancer. She loved sex! In the end, she’s fifty and fabulous and single, defying the exact stereotypes that Charlotte, Miranda, and Carrie cave to.
Since “Sex and the City” went off the air in 2004, there has been progress. Elsa became our strong, possibly gay, single princess in Frozen (albeit a cartoon, but it counts). At the end of the “Gilmore Girls” reboot, Rory announces she is pregnant and is willing to raise this baby on her own. In “Dead to Me,” Jen and Judy learn that love from a friend is much more reliable and genuine than love from a spouse. Yes, “Sex and the City” brought me joy in the late ’90’s and early 2000’s. I even liked playing the “Sex and the City” slot machines in Atlantic City and Vegas. But now, maybe I’m like Burger’s post-it: “I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.” I need more (fictional and real) Samantha’s in my life and less Charlotte’s, less Miranda’s, and less Carrie’s, women who are brave enough to wear that pearl thong even when it’s deep in your asshole.