Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Sex and the pity

I love Sex and the City. LOVE. I was/am as addicted as every other female in ... yes, i'll say it: the world. But recently, as I awaited the release of the movie version of my fave show, I started feeling slightly disappointed in Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha ... were they really the strong, empowered, independent women we believed them to be? Would society as we know it (and as they knew it, in modern-day Manhatten) ever have allowed them to be?

Unfortunately, I don't believe the ladies lived up to our expectations. Actually, given the world and time we live in, I don't think they could have. When all was said and done, these fabulous, successful, seemingly independent women needed men to save them.

Carrie ran to Paris with a man when he asked her to, leaving her entire world, her whole life, everything she knew and was passionate about, behind. I'm all for having new adventures, but this was Petrovsky's fantasy, not Carrie's. Sure enough, almost as soon as she arrived in the city of love, babbling helplessly in french, her Russian lover let her down.

So who would save Carrie now? I wish she'd saved herself (like many of us real women have to). Why can't any Hollywood movie or TV show end with a woman walking ALONE into the sunset? Why can't women ever be depicted as perfectly content on their own, in their own skin, doing what they want to do, what they love to do, with no men in sight?

Carrie didn't - couldn't - save herself. I suppose, in a way, her girlfriends kinda sorta did. They did hold a meeting with Big, at which point Miranda uttered those now-famous words: "Go get our girl."

So Big flew to Paris and saved our heroine. Which, I suppose, makes him the hero. We've all seen and heard (and imagined) this ending before: the prince in shining armor rides in on his big, white airplane to save the damsel in distress. What a let down.

Society won't allow a woman to be truly strong, empowered and independent. Not even Carrie Bradshaw. As someone once explained to me: it just doesn't sell.
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Thirty and *gasp* single

It started about five years ago. Everyone – and we mean EVERYONE – got married. Being in a university sorority meant we knew a lot of women – some as close friends, some as acquaintances and some simply as recurring names in the endless stream of gossip that permeated our lives as part of the so-called “Greek system.” Back then we were like all the other girls – crushing, flirting, dating, crying, begging, breaking up, getting back together, falling in and out of love and, from time to time, daring to dream of our future weddings. What would the dress look like? How many bridesmaids would we have? And – most importantly – who would the groom be? We were all travelling the same path at that time; all puzzling over the complexities and emotions of “being in a relationship;” all wondering (and worrying) – when would that wonderful, white day, with its “I dos” and promises of everlasting love and happiness, come?

And then we came to that big, fat intersection. You know the one. You can either take a right, hit cruise-control and coast down scenic Wedding Way, where the sun shines and the birds sing and all the floral arrangements match the place settings or hang a left, shift into four-wheel drive and do your darndest to navigate Lonely Lane, a rocky, winding, unpredictable route fraught with potholes, landmines and seats at the singles’ table (it’s the one at the back of the room, in case you didn't know). Read more.