Many years ago, I had a boyfriend who got turned on by watching ‘Sex and the City’. While this slightly spoiled the series for me, it did however also have advantages. For example, it meant that I didn’t have to turn down sex upfront. I just needed to answer “Hmm, no, let’s play a board game instead” when he asked, “Shall we watch a few episodes of ‘Sex and the City’?”
The best thing about his SATC addiction though was that he purchased all six seasons – and left the whole set of DVD’s with me when we separated.
A few days ago, I quiet unexpectedly went to bed with season one of ‘Sex and the city’ after a long leave of absence with Carrie Bradshaw and her friends. I initially wanted to test my new Ikea bed laptop cushion (very satisfactory by the way) by working, but my WIFI connection refused to enter the bedroom. Which led to the DVD option.
So there I was, plunged yet again into the life of the successful, beautiful and sexually fulfilled women of New York (even further away now from my actual life than when I first watched the series…).
After a few episodes something strange happened: I realised my vision of Carrie Bradshaw had changed. Before, her relationship with the supposed commitment phobic Mr Big filled me with compassion. I knew exactly how she felt. Now? Not so much.
In fact I thought Mr Big showed a hell of a lot of patience most of the time. When she’s chasing him around wanting to be introduced to his mother (she obviously has never had a mother in law!), when he finds out she’s been spying on his ex-wife or when she has a meltdown because they haven’t had sex for several days (and he doesn’t want to in the middle of a boxing match). The worst part? When she breaks up with him because he won’t say that “she’s the one” there and then on the sidewalk.
I’m not saying I’ve never been just as clingy, jealous and stupidly in search of “proof that he loves me”. I have. Many times. Many, many times. But somehow over the years I’ve apparently lowered my expectations to men, relationships and romance. I no longer relate to Carrie Bradshaw when she dissects Mr Big’s every word and gesture. I’ve never been the “I want a big ring and a big marriage” type of woman. But I had never realised how much she was.
Being so suddenly annoyed by Carrie Bradshaw has been an unsettling experience. I’m not happy with suddenly understanding men who think women are slightly pushy. I’d much more prefer telling myself that I’m getting worked up by ‘Sex and the City’ because it reminds me of a time where I actually had relationships. Either way, one thing’s certain: I’m going to have to check out the remaining five seasons one more time to be sure.
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