Cha cha! Splashy bus!
A beautiful shot of the Statue of Liberty at night looms large as Carrie waxes about how Manhattan was, "for millions of our forefathers," the path to dreams. Now, that path takes place in bars, as mating rituals replace traveling to Ellis Island, and the state the "hordes of women" crave to occupy is that of "matrimony." Oh, boy. If a date won't do, a hot meal will suffice, adds Carrie. Yeah, we needed you to spell that out for us. Thank god for Samantha, who savors her wine and lets her date dab a stray drop from her smiling lips. Carrie VOs that Sam "doesn't believe in first dates, but does believe in sex afterwards." Good! Let's make this less about mating rituals and more about mating, please. The VO continues; Sam's date is a litigator, takes "steam baths with Ron Perlman," and has a fancy apartment. Which I guess makes him appealing, or something. ["Ron Perlman is, I think, the inspiration for Mr. Big in the original 'Sex & the City' column. Or is it Ron Galotti? Ah, forget it." -- Sars] After dinner, of course Sam gets an invitation to see the view. They smooch. He says (rather uncharmingly) that his specialty is sexual harassment, and that he could claim impairment from the wine he had at dinner. Sam adds that she does have a history of driving men crazy. He's all, "You fit the profile; most sexual harassment cases are filed by older women." This is the part where I thank god this isn't Ally McBeal and that the producers of this show can allow a moment like this to happen without using that needle-being-pulled-off-a-record sound. But that's the gist. Sam, older? Or, Sam, being told that she's older? Sam pulls away and is all, "I'm sorry?" He's like, no offense, but what are you, forty, forty-one? She looks stunned. He's being very impolite, it's true. But he's a lawyer. She says she's going to freshen up, and he's all, "You're pretty fresh already." Oh, he's so cruising for a bruising. For whatever reason, Sam doesn't belt him a good one.
Sam scrutinizes her face in the bathroom mirror. You're gorgeous, honey! Don't listen to that cad. Well, maybe a lift. No, don't listen to me! She comes out of the bathroom and hears the strains of Right Said Fred's "I'm Too Sexy." Sam? Run. The evening, she is ruined. Her loathsome date is all, I'm in heeee-eeere! She opens the closet door to see the litigator, stripped, trussed, and chained to a hanging contraption in his walk-in closet/dungeon. Okay, if this were Charlotte's date, maybe this would freak her out. But it's SAMANTHA, Supervixen. This should be like going to the movies for her. He purrs, "Come on, slap me. Slap me hard." What's not to oblige? The guy is lame. Just belt him one and ask for cab fare.
The night, Sam invites the ladies to a party she's having for a new "awful" coffee table book. She commiserates about her bad date. Miranda contends that "men out there over thirty are freaks. It's Darwinian." Carrie says that's unfair. And what about "us," meaning we women over thirty here at the table? Mir is all, "We're just choosy! I'm getting more shrimp!" She bolts. Sam says the funniest part about her date was that he actually thought she was forty. Ha ha! Does Carrie think she looks forty? Carrie licks her lips, twists her hands together, and looks down, then up before answering, "You don't look a day over thirty-five." Good thing she isn't wearing pants, because they'd be on fire. Charlotte bubbles over and says she just met a great guy, Mitchell Saylor. Sam is all, MITCH SAYLOR? She knows of him. They retreat to the ladies' room.
Mitch Saylor? Is "Mr. Pussy." He eats it but good. And everyone knows it, except Charlotte, because the "only thing that goes down with regularity on Charlotte's dates is a gold American Express card." She's all, "Ew, ew, quit calling it that!" She means "eating pussy." And now she won't date him. It's just too icky! Oh, poor Charlotte. A woman emerges from a stall and says she has had the pleasure of Mitch Saylor. "He's un. Believable. Once I passed out when I came." And they dated for just one sweet orgasm-ful month. Carrie notes that the guy has "good word of mouth." Heh. The ladies leave the bathroom, and Mitch eats an oyster on the half-shell, sucking his cheeks in for Char's benefit. She smiles and looks bashful, a step up from grossed out. Okay, she's coming around. She'd BETTER.
Carrie flies out of her apartment in a very gypsy handkerchief top to go on her first blind date in two years, with an independent movie director named P.J. He just made a documentary about seagulls. No, really. But he's just doing this kind of feel-good filmmaking "to get a rep." He really wants to make action movies -- scratch that, he really wants to make money. He "loves money. [He'd] sell toilet bowls if it'd make [him] a millionaire." The lights go up on his face as Carrie VOs that two vodkas and a $12 plate of pasta are your ticket to see The Man With No Soul. Hey, I'd sell toilet bowls if it'd make me a million too -- what's wrong with that? You can't eat principles. The calliope music is scary. Heh.
Carrie's second date goes well enough as they wait in line for the movies, until the seemingly pleasant guy suddenly turns and screams at the couple standing behind them for standing too close. This one is The Man With Two Faces. More scary calliope music! What is this, a Fellini film?
Third time's a charm, right? Wrong. This time, her date, the bond trader, is The Man Who Steals Cheap Used Books For No Reason. Now, Carrie says, wearing her cute fun fur, she's scared. Maybe the dating world has changed. Maybe the world was better when there were freak shows, because now the freaks are "all mixed in among us." Yeah, like the world was better when Australia was the place where the prisoners slept. And now, we get The Question Of The Week: "Are all men freaks?" My answer is "maybe." ["I'd go with 'yes, because all people are freaks,' but nobody asked me." -- Sars]
Charlotte lets Mr. Pussy goes down on her, to the strains of "The Look Of Love," Tijuana Brass version. She "came harder than ever before in her life. That is, until Tuesday...Wednesday...Thursday...Friday..." Here we get a montage of Charlotte lying on her back in different dresses and under different sets of sheets, with Mitch Saylor crouching underneath, for each day of the week. Char likes to scream "oh God" a lot. On Friday she "saw God seven times," say Carrie, making it "a very good Friday." Ba dump dump. So Char likes this freak. Or the freak's tongue. Whatever, she's getting some.
The morning, Carrie sits on a fountain in the park near a fire-breathing busker guy. She's got that large red Chinese-looking handbag that was knocked off a million times in tow. A cute guy sits to her. They exchange a few looks, then he asks if she had a "rough night." Bad date, she says. He's been there. She says her date was a kleptomaniac. He says that last month he dated a woman who slept with her shoes on. Touché. They giggle. Is this how strangers really try to pick each other up nowadays? How totally sad. What's the matter -- were the bars on strike? How can two people with brains ever think their relationship won't be doomed after playing a sickening round of My Date: Weirder Than Your Date? It's like they want to become dating history, or notches in belts or bedposts or lipstick cases, rather than attached. But I guess DOOMED is really the theme of the episode, so let's roll with it. Carrie introduces herself, Ben shakes her hand. She VOs that she's "attracted but [felt] webs between his fingers." She asks, "When did you guys all become freaks?" Ben's all, nuh-unh, YOU guys are freaks! "Women are bizarre. Sometimes in a good way." And that's why he doesn't date any more. Oh, what a cheesy line. Carrie waxes about how she saw two fat guys at a sideshow at a fair, and they were both married to skinny women. Non sequitur. Gesundheit. Ben's all, will you have dinner with me? Boy, I didn't see that one coming. He calls it a "non-date," Carrie gives him a "non-no," and they exchange numbers.
Sam sees a gal pal on the street who looks fabulous. She had the "fat from [her] own ass injected into [her] face," and poof. "Like a baby's bottom. And the best part is, you get to eat like a pig the week before to fatten up your ass!" Or in my case, just do nothing out of the ordinary. The gal pal is all, gotta run! Sam is all, gotta call my doctor! She makes an appointment.
Carrie and Ben wind their non-date down. She offers him a non-kiss. They smooch the way bunnies fuck.
Gal-pal powwow. They all have honking glasses of red wine. Sam tells them about her upcoming fat-from-ass-to-face procedure. The girls look amused. Miranda says, "We spend years trying to hide the fat in our ass, and you're going to put it right out there in your face?" Heh. Sam has to wear a girdle, and shows it off. Carrie notices the "hole." Sam says the hole is for peeing through. Char asks that Sam pull her skirt down. Look out, Char, you might pop your monocle! And she has to go, she's meeting Mitch, about whom feelings are growing. She may get serious with him, she says. Sam says you don't get serious with Mr. Pussy: "You enjoy him and set him free!" Mir calls Mr. Pussy "a freak," and asks what else Char knows about him, or if they've ever done anything else besides "it." Mir adds that Charlotte's not having a relationship, she's having "multiple orgasms." Char gathers his coat and says Mr. Pussy "makes [her] happy," then leaves in a huff.
Carrie, Ben, Mir, and a friend of Ben's have a non-double-non-date in Central Park. Mir and the FOB quibble about ice cream flavors. Carrie and Ben smile smugly, just in time to see Mir and FOB have a big fight. Mir says she's going to see her granddad in Connecticut, and FOB is all, "Ecch," because he "hates the country," hasn't left Manhattan in ten years, and sees no reason to set foot off the island because "everything you need is right here." Oh yeah? How could you not take issue with that xenophobia? Is Graceland in Manhattan? Is Tokyo? A Lush boutique? Pickle-flavored potato chips? Yeah, NYC is great, and has many, many amazing wonderful things to see and do, but there is a world outside. Mir says as much. Carrie VOs that this is another kind of freak, the kind that feeds off Zabar's and can be seen at midnight showings at the Angelika. The FOB is all, "You're obviously not from here." Oh, whatever. ["Yeah, really. The most rabidly 'New York' New Yorkers are inevitably the people who grew up in Sheboygan. Whatever, FOB." -- Sars] Mir says placidly that she has to "feed [her] cat," and makes to leave. Carrie VOs that this is a honed code, but doesn't want to let Mir go so easily. She grabs Mir's arm and says she thought Mir already fed her cat. Mir says she has to feed it again. As she walks away, FOB says, "Cat people, all freaks." I hate this guy. What a tool! Carrie and Mir shoot him a look, and Mir warns Carrie that if the friend is a freak, Ben may be too. Carrie hopes not, and looks at Ben, who smiles sweetly. He looks totally nice to me. People can have freaky friends and still be normal, yes? Yes.
Carrie and Ben make out in his apartment, but she's haunted by Miranda's comment. She stops smooching him to ask if there's anything freaky about him she should know. He says yeah, unbuttons his shirt, and shows her a tattoo of Tweety Bird. She said freaky, not lame, Ben. Carrie says it's "adorable," and he says it's a souvenir of a bachelor party a few years ago. And what about her? Is Carrie perfect? Nope. She shows him a scar on her knee from third grade. He calls her "scrappy," and that he likes "scrappy." The saxophone blows, and Carrie VOs that she and "the amazing tattooed man" made love, and "it didn't feel weird at all." Hooray.
Charlotte and Mr. Pussy are out to eat...dinner. At a restaurant. She's "trying to make a relationship happen," Carrie VOs. Char chats about summer camp, Mr. Pussy nods, she asks what he's thinking, and he totally goes down on a fig off her exotic fruit plate. She looks squeamish and, apparently, "can never be in the same room with a fig again." The calliope music starts up, and Mr. Pussy is set free.
Sam's at the doctor's office. She loves the results of her fat-from-ass-to-face procedure, and asks what else the doctor can do. He grabs a marker and gets to work on her face, and breasts, and tummy and hips and thighs. He leaves to make a call, and Sam goes to the full-length mirror. She sees the red lines all over her face and body and begins to cry. Again with the calliope music? They're sure getting a lot of mileage out of that snippet.
Carrie and Ben make out again. He's late for his soccer game, and asks her to stay at his place, because he'll be back in two hours. She stretches out on the bed and VOs that she's "deep in the sex haze and completely freaked out." The door closes, and she starts searching the apartment, looking for what might be wrong with sweet, mild-mannered Ben. She goes through his refrigerator, his CD collection, his address book, underwear drawer...she can't stop. Deep inside his closet, she finds a wooden box that's locked. She calls it Ben's illicit box of freakdom." Hee! The imagines that "photos, love letters, an old marriage license" are all inside. She finds a screwdriver and tries to pry it open. Ben returns unexpectedly and is all, "What are you doing?" She says she was looking for something, "something freaky." He sits down on the bed, slides the top of the box off, and reveals his Cub Scout badge collection. He says he was going to skip the game to be with Carrie. He thought she was "a normal one." She says she was. And that she'll go. He says that that's a good idea. And the calliope music starts up again, and Carrie VO tells us that this is the day Carrie met her freak, "the one whose fear ate [her] sanity." And that it's not just the men that are freaks, but "all of us," or all "the single people in Manhattan." But Carrie is still hopeful, because if those fat twins can find love, why not everyone else?