The End

The final episode of SATC made me cry. Not because it was the very last episode and there would be no more but because it was so poignant, and so romantic.

Alexandr Petrovsky reminds of the self-centredness of men. Of how easily they ask and they take and they let go of your hand. How easily your sacrifices are forgotten. Oh, the entitlement.

The real heart of the episode though was Magda watching Miranda bathe her mother-in-law. As Magda told Miranda: “That is love.” Miranda’s represents the ultimate SATC transformation – the tough, cynical, self-sufficient, cold woman who rushes down the street frantic with worry over a woman she doesn’t even like.

A close second is Samantha and Smith, another testament to how the steadfastness of love can break down the tallest barriers. It is perhaps fitting that the toughest two in the foursome were melted by men the opposite of them – naive where they were sophisticated, loyal where the women were commitment phobic, nice where they were bitchy.

In all of this metamorphosis, Charlotte and her baby coming through kind of lose out. It is aww but not ohh.

And finally, in Carrie and Big we get, as we always wanted, our fairytale ending.

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Milestones

In one of the episodes of Sex and the City, Carrie grumbles to Samantha about how, while there are big celebrations marking milestones in the married person’s life (starting with engagement, marriage, birth of children, big anniversaries etc.) there is nothing to commemorate the milestones in the life of a single person. Thus, while she found herself buying endless gifts for her married friends down the years, she herself was never the recipient of any largesse.

It got me thinking. In the past, society was geared towards coupledom and the married-and-kids way was the only way. So, landmarks evolved into events that were celebrated, often with gifts. And normally, it was a what-goes-around-comes-around deal because you gifted some, you got some.

Actually, the gifting is beside the point. Why are only landmarks in a couple’s life celebrated? Are there milestones in the singleton’s life that should be noted and feted?

* * *

And on the subject of gifting, Chinese culture at least has a tradition where singletons are at the receiving end (in a good, if somewhat patronizing, way). At Chinese New Year, the tradition is to hand out lai see, or red packets containing money. The etiquette of who to give lai see to is mindboggling, but the blanket rule is that married people give single people lai see. Even if they’re older than you. Even if they’re your boss. I’m still walking the lai see minefield but I draw the line at giving lai see to people old enough to be my mother or bosses who are much older. Though my boss might be an exception, because she has declared she is very happy to receive lai see.

And I’m down to Season Six

I’ve been on an Sex and the City binge… and the Benj has been coopted into watching it into me. Yesterday after his feed, he sat on my lap for half an hour and watched Miranda and Steve get back together again.

Random thoughts:

Carrie’s style is weeeeird. It is not fashion. It is stupid. In one episode, she’s carrying a beaded bag which is something my mom has stashed in the back of her closet. This is not a bad thing in itself but really, I’ve raided my mom’s closet on numerous occasions – turtlenecks of the 70s be praised – and this is one item I’ve always balked at. Hmmm though I’m rethinking it now. Mainly though, it seems that her style involves wearing brightly coloured bras under transparent tops. 

Berger has got to be the worst guy Carrie ever dated. Thank God I never did brooding intellectual types. I’m enough brooding-intellectual for one relationship.

Although logically I should be a Carries, Miranda is the one I’ve always been drawn to. Maybe I have a thing for skinny redheads. Miranda post-baby, however, is a real identification point. This line particularly struck a chord: “along with her morning coffee, feeling guilty had become part of her daily routine”. And the episode in which Miranda fits into her a skinny jeans – that’s me too. The sleepless nights, stress, weird diet (in which everything could cause reflux or gas or both so I’ve pretty much been eating… nothing, or such boring food that I don’t want much of it), and breastfeeding has resulted in me being only a couple of kilos away from my pre-preggie weight in two months… Yay! And I’m happy to report that The Chair is working like a charm.

Two favourite quotes so far:

“there is a good way to break up with someone and it doesn’t include a post-it.”

“women with candles have replaced women with cats as the new sad thing.”

My Life Bears An Uncanny Resemblance to SATC Season 5

1. My hair, if I had a stylist on call, would look exactly like Carrie’s this season. Recently, got a much needed haircut, ditched the long straight hair and went back to the short waves that I had in school. Not sure how successful it is but I like it.

2. The “Face Girl” episode – Carrie goes a bit nuts over this woman she encounters who makes a face when she realises Carrie is Aiden’s ex. The implication being that Carrie fucked Aiden up in some way. Finally, Carrie realised that it wasn’t the judgement of others she’s so concerned about, it’s herself. I’m going through something similar as a new mom and it brought home to me that my toughest critic is probably myself. I just project that onto others.

3. Miranda as the frazzled new mom. Like Miranda, I was probably the last person people who knew me expected to have a child. And like Miranda, I feel like shit. I have a baby that keeps crying and I don’t know what to do. Like the neighbour told her, if her friends didn’t have babies, they wouldn’t understand. But the real identification point was “the chair” – I’ve been recently looking at rocking chairs as a calming device.

4. Whenever I see Big and the way Carrie looks at him, I’m reminded of V.

5. And finally, this is not something I relate to but which made me go awww… Charlotte’s new bald man. I remember seeing him in the movie and wasn’t sure how that came about, except to think that they seemed so unsuited. And now I have the back story, and it’s adorable. The impeccable uptight Charlotte falling for a man with hair on his back who talks with food in his mouth. 

Soulmates

Season 4, Episode 1: Do you believe in soulmates.

To quote Jane Austen: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Or in the 21st Century, every single girl with a fortune (or not) must be in want of a man. And more specifically a soulmate.

We had this discussion about whether there has to be just one. But this episode threw up an interesting thought – why does the soulmate have to be a man? Or, I guess, have to be someone one has sex with? Why can’t a soulmate be a really good friend? Then, as Charlotte says, we could enjoy men as just fun people to be with sometimes.

I’ve had a soul sister. Or something like a twin soul. The kind of person you realise is like you in uncanny ways, the one you’re willing to go through lengths for, who you hang out with endlessly and who you get a tad jealous about when she’s hanging out with someone else, at the rare time that happens. It’s incredibly intense… like being in a relationship. without the sex, and without the petering out of endless conversation.

When it crashed and burned, it felt like a breakup. I can survive breaking up with a man because well, there’s social precedent for it. You know it’s supposed to be like this. But breaking up with a soul sister? That’s different. I decided I coudn’t do another one of those.

So have you had a soulmate you’re not “in a relationship” with? And if you do have this kind of soulmate, have you considered that the search for The One might just be, well, optional?

Dealbreakers

The Episode: Episode 4, Season 3
The question: What’s your dealbreaker?

So my rule is that I can only watch SATC reruns when V is away. But V’s almost away so I guess it’s ok to break my own rule.

I’ve skipped a couple of episodes because I watched them when I was too tired to think or write anything. And then we come to this one.

Charlotte’s dating a bad kisser (“he raped my face”), Samantha a black guy who’s sister’s warned her off because she’s white, Carrie a guy who can’t stand smokers and Stan a guy who has a doll collection.

So the first question is: would you break up with someone because they’re a bad kisser? Samantha says yes. I’m inclined to go the Charlotte route and try to tutor him. But as Charlotte realised, bad kissers are hard to reform. I don’t think I’ve dated a bad kisser. But I have dated someone who was bad in bed. Did I break up with him over it? Kind of. But that because there was nothing else. Bad technique in bed can be improved right? right?

But what then are the dealbreakers? Are there dealbreakers?

At 18, I would’ve answered “hell yeah”. Ten years on, I’m not so sure. You learn the value of compromise. Like Carrie, I decided to quit smoking for a guy (and unlike her, I’ve stuck with it… mostly). “The moment I heard the lie come out of my mouth I realised how much I liked him,” she says. How true. The people worth lying to are sometimes the people who mean the most.

Don’t know if I could stomach a guy with a doll collection (though that seems fairly common in HK) but what about unusual habits. Again, it would depend on the guy and the habit. I haven’t dated anyone with really weird hobbies. Thankfully.

I would’ve thought my dealbreaker would be a guy who didn’t read. But my record with men has somehow tended to the literarilliterate. I’ve come to accept that the kind of guy that reads a lot is not the same guy that turns me on, despite my best intentions.

I have been known to break up with a guy because he didn’t know who Karl Marx is. “Known to” because I didn’t actually break up with him over that. Or at least, not only over that. But finally, when I got tired of him asking me why, it was the first thing that came out of my mouth. And unfortunately, it was what he repeated to his friends. Oh well. A reputation for intellectual snobbery, however laughable, is not something I’ll quibble over.

Actually, I think my dealbreaker would be Samantha’s: a guy who doesn’t have the balls to stand up to his family. Being married, I’ve learnt that this is especially hard for guys. Maybe because they’re always left out of the controversies that embroil families. They are never required to make the all or nothing call because they’re either indulged or they bypass emotional confrontation of the familial kind. I understand this and I let some things slide. But when push comes to shove, the person I’m with must be able to stand up for me. If they can’t, they’re not worth it.

Most amusing part of the episode: Tie between 30-something Carrie confessing that she “has a crush” and the spaniel humping Carrie in the shop. I think the spaniel wins just for being a spaniel. It’s the ears, I tell you.

Interesting lingo: crush (Aiden) versus crash (Big) and crush-proof. Now, who was my crash? The green eyed monster I’d say. Glad to say, I’m not yet crush-proof but I should move on to someone more attainable than the leader of the free world. Brad Pitt, maybe.

White knight, anyone?

So since, the husband has deserted me, I’m back to watching SATC back episodes, here goes:

The episode: Season 3, episode 1
The question: Does every woman secretly want to be rescued? Are we all waiting for a knight in shining armour?

Carrie gently points out to Charlotte that today, a woman’s supposed to be her own white knight, that instead of waiting for Prince Charming she goes out, gets a job and gets insurance. To which Charlotte replies: “That’s depressing.”

Despite my feminist leanings, I have to agree. Maybe the idea of managing alone is not depressing, it’s just that nobody really wants to.

Men deal with it being alone and fending for themselves better generally, but who doesn’t want to have someone look after them? Historically, women have been placed in the role where we are allowed to expect to be taken care of (and paid a heavy price for being allowed the ‘luxury’ of this)… and so, well, we do.

It’s a human need to want to be taken care of, layered over by a multitude of fairy stories told and retold literally from birth till death. Who can blame us? Why society decided to impregnate us with this fantasy is another matter. Why didn’t the wise old elders decide that women need to be strong and fiesty and go out and bring back food like the female lions do (actually, maybe not. Those female lions sure do have a bad deal, all because they don’t have a mane). How did we become the human versions of male lions, minus the brute strength?

It’s funny how even the strongest most fiesty woman will insist that she doesn’t need anyone to take care of her, until she meets one who does.

Even if you subscribe to the theory that women should be their own white knight (which I do) and don’t want to run the risk of waiting for a man, wouldn’t you rather have the knight in shining armour as dessert if not the main event?

Smug Married (cont?)

The Episode: Season 1, Episode 3
The question: Is there a cold war between married and single people? Do married people see single people as the enemy? (haha, apt ain’t it, after the last post)

And the answer is hmmm.

When you get married, you do, as Carrie says, change sides. No matter how much I wanted to be the cool married person who could hang out with hip young single things – sort of like wanting to be the girl guys feel comfortable hanging out with – I realised slowly that I was different. Or more accurately, I was NOW different.

Without knowing it that stage of my life – The Hunt – was over. That is not to say that single people are always ‘desperate’, but I do believe they are always looking, and the older they get the more openly that happens. (Well, most people at least. There are some people who are compltely and truly happy with the single state but as much as every single person would like to proclaim they are that person, their roving eyes give them away).

The first sign is that you stop wanting to go out on weekdays. You want to come home, curl up on the couch, and you end up going to bed earlier. At least one day of the weekend is spent doing nothing but hanging out at home (granted that their are single people who do this last one. It’s just me who cannot stay home alone when I’m minus the other half so this point might be just relevant to me). You stop wanting to stay out late partying, or even go out partying (and to even my surprise this has happened to V too, one of his older colleagues remarked that he had it’s because he had ‘stopped hunting’.

I’m beginning to realise that my life is different from other women’s because I am married. Not because I have more work – if anything I have less because I have someone to share the work with – but because I no longer feel the need to be on the go. I am no longer restless.

While marriage certainly involves its own labour of love, as was pointed out in the episode, it makes life a lot easier in a society that is geared towards coupledom as the ultimate goal (well, childbearing really but we’ll come to that at another time). For one, moving to another country and getting a dependent visa is easier, getting insurance and add-on cards is easier. Ok I can’t think of anything else. I don’t think I ever got invited anywhere because I was married, in fact I think I get left out of a lot of things because I’m married since many of my close friends are single women and they want to do flirty, girls nights on the town.

Given the last post, I know that I’m going to get put down as a Smug Married. And quite possibly that’s what I am. Hopefully, I don’t sound like it anywhere except this blog. I fully appreciate people who are happy being single but I am surrounded by women who want to find that special someone. And I’ve found it. It’s honestly a very lucky feeling.

Quite to my surprise – considering I never wanted to be married and was sure it would be the most stifling thing ever – I find that I enjoy marriage. It scares me how much because it means I will be distraught if it doesn’t work out. I enjoy the ease of coming home to someone, of having someone to stand with at parties if you really can’t find anyone to talk to, of knowing that if you’re really ill, someone’s there to run down and buy that medicine (granted that most men really don’t get how to take care of women when they’re ill). Apart from these benefits, I actually like the person I’m married to so it’s not just the state but the relationship (though you can have that with a roommate you get along with really well with too).

According to Carrie, married people don’t hate single people. It’s fear of the unknown. They just want to figure them out. I disagree. I am not so far gone that I don’t remember what it was like to be single. Thankfully, I am not one of those people who feels the need to fix up my friends.

As for the idea that married women fear single women because they might steal away their husbands, I won’t go there. I do feel a bit of that when I’m the odd one out at married gatherings because my husband is away. Only sometimes though. I hope I don’t project that but I who knows? It helps that I don’t consider any of my single friends a threat because I pretty much know they’re not V’s type (or so I think).

A final thought. I love going out with my girlfriends in India whether they are single or in a relationship. It’s because we just have such a great time. So maybe my whole last post was relevant only to Hong Kong, which anyway seems to heighten the single ready-to-mingle state.

Quote of the episode: He was like the flesh and blood equivalent of a DKNY bag. You know it’s not your style but it’s right there so you try it on anyway.

Doing it like a man

The Episode: Season I, Episode 1. (Yes, finally I’m starting at the beginning).
The Question: Can a woman have sex like a man? AND Do women

My dirty little secret is that I have not watched the very first episode of SATC before. There I said it.

But I have read the book. Most people who read the book hate it. I did too. But it grew on me. I actually like it now and reread it, as I am want to do with chicklit in a way that happens with say, Virginia Woolf. Both have their own pleasures though.

What I realised is that the first episode is almost exactly like the book. It lays out the anthropological examination that will play out throughout the series. Which is – why can’t women in New York get a man? Do they need to? Do they want to? What’s wrong with the men?

It is also the introduction of Mr Big, which is a very sweet undertone to the cynical examination that will become the thesis of the show, almost undercutting the logical probing of Carrie’s narrative by throwing in the complicated mix of emotions.

But back to the question at hand. When faced with men who have decided that they’d rather have a younger, more attractive and less complicated model than women their own age, what do the women do? Especially in a situation where the women of a certain age and economic status are no longer willing to settle and simper either.

Could they, as Samantha says, have sex like a man?

They could. And have. Even Indian women.

I did it as an experiment. Also I was feeling a bit blue at that time and blue makes me numb and numb makes me analytical. So I embarked on a sexual experiment.

It was quite empowering and practical. Because your range of possibilty gets extended to men you don’t really like, might not have hung out with but who are simply available. Of course, I don’t think I could have sex with someone I didn’t start out liking at least at the beginning. I need some fodder for the imagination especially since really attractive men are such slim pickings that you have to go for personality as a turn on.

Quite quickly I decided I was not interested. But hey, I needed to be distracted and sex gave me something to do.

I have to say it wasn’t for me. But that could just be because the man wasn’t that good in bed although he thought he was (which was quite funny actually in retrospect). I guess most people aren’t that good in bed and the emotion tides that over.

Also as randy as one is, one is not that randy. The other day was discussing with V the relative difference in quantity of how much men think about sex versus women. Women do think about sex a lot more than we’re given credit for. Especially when bored – which frankly makes Mass an unfortunately fertile time for fantasy but let’s forget that. But I think men think about it more. And have the energy to act on it.

I don’t. No matter how much I fantasize, I don’t always have the energy to go through with the act. I might actually rate sleeping above sex. (I think this happens when you’re married also. Before there’s a shortage of supply and then when it’s unlimited it’s like ODing on icecream).

Also, I suspect for a lot of women they can actually have very satisfactory sexual experiences all on their own. I don’t think this is true for men. Jerking off for men is just a compromise. For women, it could an end in itself.

In fact, the only reason a lot of women want another person around is the warmth of another body and the cuddly stuff. If the other person, male or female, is not going to be cuddly then you’re sort of cheated. You could have just shagged in your own bed.

I have to say though, being able to do it and then just get up, put on your clothes and walk off without a care in the world is quite a power trip. But after the power trip is over you end up feeling a bit, well, inconvenienced.

There are probably women who enjoy that kind of sex but I don’t know any. I know women, like me, who would like to think that they do. Because it makes them feel stronger. And sometimes because they might not have a choice at the time.

But back to the episode (also because I don’t have much more to say about this). The fascinating thing is that it is Big, a man, who presents the note of sentimentality in this episode. He points out quite simply that while one can always have sex like a man, being in love makes all the difference.

Original Cynicism

The Episode: Season 5, Episode 2. (Yeah, we’re plodding on nicely, aren’t we?)

The Question: Is cynicism something we slap on like moisturiser after we’re 30? Have we outgrown hope?

Ok, so I’m not over 30. But damn, I’m cynical. Have been since as far back as I can remember. I have always regarded the world around with a kind of eagle-eyed skepticism. When I was around 12 my cousin’s girlfriend, who was 22, described me as ‘pragmatic’. ‘Is that bad or good?’ I demanded. She wasn’t sure.

I have now realised that my cynicism is a defense mechanism. It is the refuge of those who are hurt. I have not yet been able to figure what it is I had to protect myself against so fervently at such a young age. But it is a cloak I have wielded around myself and it has largely served me well.

Because of my habit of dabbling in ‘the other side’, I once briefly threw of, somewhat, this garb of distrust. At least socially, I decided to not be such a prick. I decided to empathise. To do away with the polite chatter I abhored by getting to the heart of the matter and starting with me. It worked. I was able to make idle chatter easily.

It also led me to, briefly, make a huge leap of faith and be happy, pure and simple, without disbelief. Unfortunately, everything I had been protecting myself and let down my guard against actually proved to be out there.

Part of my appeal to men has been that I see through their bullshit from the start. Even ‘I love you’ has begun sounding like a parody. It’s a sort of vicious circle in which I am thoroughly mistrustful, the said man outdoes himself in his desire to convince me of his superlative intentions to heights hitherto unimagined (such as carrying me up and down stairs for no apparent rhyme or reason), ultimately I concede and then obviously man cannot sustain said superlative intentions or is just too bored to once the chase has been exhausted and I am devastated having let down my guard.

Because I keep everyone in my life at arms length, there’s just that small distance that will prevent me from having expectations of people because to expect is to be let down. Only the one man in my life, after much trial, is allowed to hop across that divide and see me in all my vulnerability. And quite possibly, these shoes are too big for anyone to fill so they are doomed from the start. Yes, I do agree that I bring it upon myself.

But is it too much to hope that the person you’re with will be all they profess to be? Sigh, I guess it is.

And yet, even in me, the original cynic – the Miranda of the gang – hope lives on. Every time that love of my life let me down (and yes, other people let you down to but in my case, nobody except my lovers – not in the carnal sense necessarily – get the chance to), I seriously believe I will never trust again. But I do.

Except every time, I think, it’s just that bit less. The view outside the window is just a little less rosy each time. I am able to deal with the blows much better because I was always steeling myself for them, letting myself relax my guard just a little bit less.

The short answer to that question is (for me) yes we will continue to hope – because otherwise, as our famous English Lit prof in college said, ‘how would you get out of bed in the morning?’ – but with every year as we wallow through the detritus that life flings our way, we will be just a little more jaded.

But I’m a Miranda. And there are the Charlottes – who always believe, who are just looking for that excuse to believe. I have to admit optimistic people scare me a little bit. But I am charmed by naivite. My favourite naive person was my elder sister. She always trusted and believed. And while I was the very opposite, I guarded her innocence jealously.

The biggest tragedy in my life was not the loss of my innocence but the loss of hers. Because we all want to believe that even if we can’t believe, someone else does.