When I was an undergraduate student, I watched “Sex & The City” on a perpetual loop. No matter what I was reading or writing, no matter who was visiting my dorm room or apartment, those DVDs were on repeat. I, of course, had my favorite seasons (2 and 3) and my favorite episodes (“Are We Sluts?” to name but one). When the seasons premiered, we had parties. Friends would bring NYC-themed foods, like hot pretzels, and we’d hang on every scene. When the series ended, we gathered at M.’s apartment (she was the only one with HBO that year!) and gasped as Carrie’s pink-crystaled phone lit up “John.” We were early 20-something girls watching these 30-something women tear through the city that lay just 45 minutes away from my childhood home and from my college home, just from different directions. We all identified with different characters, with at least a little bit of Carrie in each of us. No one wanted to be Miranda. Radical honesty: we grew up to be Mirandas. And I’m totally good with that. While we’re on the subject, do not be surprised that I was never a Charlotte.
Mid-December this past year, I started re-watching the episodes that were the backdrop to my college years. At bedtime (because I have to have the television on to fall asleep), I flick on Amazon Prime and, starting at season one (the awkward season in my opinion), I’ve been falling asleep to my past. Through an entirely different lens, nearly 2 decades later (yes, that kind of time has passed), I marvel at my different take on the relationships. Where I once thought Mr. Big was cold, I now see Carrie as narrow-sighted. Where I once thought Steve was kinda icky, I now see his charm. Fear not, I still think Charlotte is… I’ll just say lost, to keep it nice and keep it moving.
As I cooked this morning, I streamed the season 2 premiere of “Divorce.” As it loaded on my I-pad, I couldn’t help but wonder (see what I did there?) when I rolled from “SATC” to “Divorce.” Talk about SJP speaking to me. Fear not, all is well in the Land of the Bunnies. I just mean, this is the stage at which we’ve arrived. I am the “Divorce” audience. Frances is a 40-something to my 30-something, like Carrie was a 30-something to my 20-something. What an interesting benchmark as we grow, evolve, stretch and learn. Much love.