On more than one occasion, people have compared this little writing project and me doing it to my "Carrie Bradshaw moment." Ummm…sure. Maybe if Carrie had packed it up, moved out of Manhattan and retreated to the 'burbs, had two kids, and also worked another job.
Depending on the day, or even the time of day, I feel like I am Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda all rolled into one. Minus the fabulous wardrobe, of course. And for the record, I call bulls*it on Carrie's shoe collection. No woman could ever have that many pairs of Manolos and still be able to make rent.
And yet, I get that. One of the things that was so appealing about that show was that it was like the Breakfast Club for grown up women. You could relate to something about each one of them. Of course, many of its viewers didn't share the fantasy wardrobes or Birken bags, but who couldn't relate to the jaded perspective of Samantha who felt like she had seen and done it all. Or Charlotte, who wistfully believes her prince will someday come, and there really is a happily ever after. Or Miranda, who is a hard charging lawyer by day, and mom and wife at night, trying desperately hard to balance those realities. And finally, my girl Carrie. This girl writes about the trials and tribulations of dating and single life. I guess that would be a fun job, but I am neither a writer nor do I want to be a professional dater. Candidly, aside from the writing, I have the hardest time relating to her.
During the parts of my life, however, when these women were building their careers and popularizing Cosmopolitans to the point that our moms started ordering them, I was living my social life vicariously through them. Of course, I infrequently went out and did fun things. However, there was a decade of my not-to-long-ago life that was spent on focusing far more on buying Baby Gap than it was on buying Prada for myself. As it should be. These days, the playing field is now a little more leveled.
Aside from the fashion, which ultimately was its own character on the show, that series was really about two things to me. The power of female relationships and the dynamics of male/female relationships. Though on the surface completely different, these women remain fiercely loyal to one another. They made poor relationship choices, poor career choices, and even poor fashion choices, and they were always there to talk it through with one another. We all need a little bit of friendship like that in our lives, I think.
And then, of course, there were the men. I'm certain some were written in just to tease the audience (I mean, really, Aidan would have been a pretty great boyfriend for just about anyone), but then there were those who made us think. After the "perfect guy on paper" failed first marriage, Charlotte's knight in shining armor turned out to be tiny bald Jewish guy who she converted for. And she truly did find her happily ever after. After Samantha's reign of sexploits for years, she settled down with a much younger, much loyal man who adored her. And hard charging Miranda found true love, after much turbulence, with her "regular guy" baby daddy.
And then of course there is Mr. Big. Carrie's off-again, on-again love. She dates him throughout the course of the entire series, and they ultimately find their happy ending. Why did she hold out? I know it's a stupid tv show, and these are not real people, but I believe she never ended up with any of the other guys not just because it would screw up the dynamics of the show - it was because they were meant to be.
THAT is how I relate to Carrie Bradshaw.
Carrie writes weekly for a fake NY newspaper, and has an incredible wardrobe and is out every night of the week, and can claim to have dated some of the world's greatest men. She brunches weekly with her girlfriends and has a fabulous gay best friend.
I write everyday for a blog I ridiculously agreed to do myself for a year. My wardrobe pretty decent, and I love my shoe collection but am still too cheap to spring for a pair of Louboutins. I've dated a couple of really good men - even married one - and over the last year have added a couple of entertaining stories about a bunch of losers I've had first dates with to that list. I see my girlfriends as often as I can, and it is never enough.
And maybe my Mr. Big is out there. Maybe I've met him. Maybe I haven't. But my story doesn't end until I have my happy ending. I'm actively writing that story everyday. Not on this blog, mind you. Behind the scenes, with my actions, in my real life. Big will appear when he should, if he does at all, as one character in a book I'm already feeling pretty good about.
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