And just like that ... Carrie + I are both single
I went on a holiday house tour of the charming historic homes in Raleigh, NC, on a quick trip to see my older daughter last weekend. As we stood in line waiting to get into a stately 18th Century second empire beauty swagged out in swooping live garland, big red ornaments, and bows, we started talking about the first two episodes of the Sex in the City reboot we’d watched the night before.
“Can’t they just let Carrie be happily married?” my 27yo wondered, referring to the demise of Mr. Big, something many of us had prayed for countless times during the series’ initial run. I can’t tell you how many times I hoped the character would just drop dead so Carrie could untangle herself from him and move on (although tbh, she could be a handful at times, so there's that).
But of course, Carrie being happily coupled was never what the show was about. It focused instead on the trials and tribulations of getting coupled and then navigating those tricky shoals of coupledom for Carrie and her friends.
To be honest, the show never resonated with me the way it did with so many other women of my generation. By the time it premiered on HBO in 1998, I had three small children and had been married for eight years. My life looked as much like Carrie’s (or any of her three single friends) as it did a trapeze artist. Except we both might have been flying without a net. Oh, and cosmos. I was down with drinking pretty pink cosmos.
For the first few years of the show’s run, I refused to cough up the extra whatever it was a month to pay for HBO, a stinginess that doesn’t really track with the rest of my spending habits. It wasn’t until everyone was talking about The Sopranos that I broke down and signed up for the service, finding that being out of that cultural zeitgeist was more costly to my pop-culture-itis than HBO’s monthly fee.
Although Carrie et al were living very different lives as single women in Manhattan while I was keeping three kids alive in the suburbs of New Jersey, I could appreciate the importance of female friendship the show celebrated and the eternal struggle to figure out romantic love. I might have been married, but like Carrie, I couldn’t figure out why landing that significant other didn’t put an end to the struggle. It only seemed to create even more challenges in my life.
Fast forward 20-something years after the show’s inception and, just like that, Carrie’s life is starting to look a whole lot more like mine with the demise of Big. And I’m interested.
Don’t get me wrong, watching the first two episodes with my 27yo daughter presented some uncomfortable – dare I say cringey – moments. We both plugged our ears and spoke loud gibberish during the scene where a woke Miranda gives a painful introduction to her new classmates and professor. And we held pillows to our faces when Carrie asks Big to … well, yikes. If I was Chris Noth, I would have asked the writers to kill me after that scene, too.
But to answer my daughter’s question, I am much more interested in watching a woman in her mid-50s navigate the rocky shores of singledom, circa 2021 than married life. I know that committed relationships aren’t easy, and there’s not a day that I wish I was back in that young and naïve marriage of mine, but being a single woman – at any age – is really hard. And an unattached woman in her 50s? As Tony Soprano might say: fuggedaboutit.
Every age is weird, but I am finding my mid-50s to be especially so as it’s an introduction to old age. I don’t feel the way I used to. I don’t look the way I used to. My body doesn’t do what it’s always done for 50-something years. I get up from a chair and it takes me a beat or two longer than it used to straighten myself out and my sneezes have become loud and violent and I am sure a cold will scare off any potential suitors.
But being 55 can also be liberating. With the kids mostly grown, I’m no longer tethered to anyone else’s needs. I can eat pistachios for dinner and vacuum at 9 p.m. without my loved ones freaking out that I’ve lost my mind. I have confidence that comes from slowly not needing validation from Facebook or a significant other that I matter. I mean, it’s a journey and I’m not 100% cured of caring what others think (I did just get Botox), but I’m closer than I was 10 years ago. It's empowering to withstand life's twists and turns and still be standing.
So, I’m going to keep tuning in to see how Carrie navigates this new, single path. And Miranda’s brewing drinking problem? Bring it. Charlotte, however, needs to stop crying and getting so much filler. But that, too, is just a reaction to our culture unable to look at women actually aging instead of frozen at some younger, more ideal age.
I just hope I never have to witness a dude with nitroglycerin on his nightstand simulate pleasuring himself again in my lifetime. Unlike the dating lives of 50-something women, that is something best left to the imagination.
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SUNDAY SHARES: Read, watch, cook, buy
Can you believe Christmas is in less than a week? My college kid and his raggedy appendix (tbd on when surgery is to remove that thing) is home and I'm looking forward to his three siblings coming in this week for a few days plus my grand-pup. I'm off a few days after Christmas and can't wait to sit around and relax. If you're in the same boat, here are some ideas for things to watch and listen to:
I am on a roll listening to audiobooks. I shared that I absolutely adored Katie Couric's memoir and feel like she and I have been through a lot together after listening to her tell her story for over 15 hours.
I followed up with something very different: Elizabeth Strout's new novel "Oh, William." I adored Lucy Barton, but not everyone in my book club did. And I really liked Olive Kitteridge. This new one killed me with some of its insight into mothers and marriage. And the narration was top-notch.
This week I finished Gary Shteyngart's "Our Country Friends," which was in yet another direction. A pod of loosely connected friends comes together at the start of the pandemic to navigate sheltering in place on a bougie Hudson Valley compound. Excellent. As is the narration.
When I wasn't trapped in a TikTok hole (an addiction I def need to 12 step in 2022), I also binged "Sex Lives of College Girls" on HBO Max. I've started a lot of shows this fall and haven't sustained the interest in finishing any of them (like "The Great" season 2), but I flew through Sex Lives. It can be raunchy so if that's not your cup of tea, don't watch.
I am burying the lede here by waiting until now to tell you that you MUST watch HBO's "Station Eleven." There are only three episodes out right now and I cannot wait for the next to drop. IT'S SO INCREDIBLE. I have no idea really what it's about other than the premise -- it's 20 years after a virulent virus wipes out most of the planet's population. So far it's strange and beautiful and not something to watch while multitasking or looking at your phone (ahem, my children).
My daughter gave me a bougie Nespresso for my bday and I really love it and am having a fun time making different concoctions with that and my milk foamer. I had to try this Instagram idea involving a Lindor chocolate (DELISH) and want to try this TikTok hot cinnamon roll idea this week. Also, Trader Joe's sweet cream coffee creamer is my latest afternoon indulgence. SO GOOD.