I'm a Guy and I Love 'Sex and the City.' All Of It
By Zach Dionne Posted May 20th 2010 08:30AM
I sometimes wish I could write off the fashiony, gossipy adventures of Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte as a guilty pleasure, but in truth I spend more time shrugging my shoulders, misunderstanding why guys avoid the show the way they avoid buying tampons or watching 'The Bachelorette.'
Read about my love affair with 'Sex' after the jump.
When the complete DVD set turned up on my then-girlfriend's doorstep in all its pink, velvet glory, I'd never seen an episode. I grumbled and tried to make jokes at the show's expense -- this was being forced to watch 'Moulin Rouge' all over again -- and, like that fabulous musical that charmed me when I least expected it, 'Sex and the City' surprised the hell outta me. It was like finding my sister's Cosmopolitan (the magazine, not the Carrie-and-co-endorsed cocktail), making sure no one was looking and pawing through pages from the minds of women, for women. It was like that, only much more entertaining, less obsessed with 75 boilerplate bedroom tips and with nudity galore. I laughed a lot, became invested in the characters and just really enjoyed the show.
The glitzy New Yorkiness of it all, watching in small-town Maine and dreaming of moving to the city, was intensely alluring. Since living and writing in New York, I've seen firsthand that Carrie's columnist-in-a-huge-apartment-buying-thousands-of-shoes lifestyle is fantasy BS (and that cabs do go to Brooklyn, Miranda, and real-life people commute from that supposed nether-realm each and every day), but I just don't care. Carrie and her ilk are well-written characters who, when you move past the headlines and the misconceptions, can span more demographics than reason would suggest.
This isn't to say I couldn't see the show's flaws, and the same went for the 2008 movie. There was plenty not to like -- after six seasons of Carrie and Big's will-they-won't-they, I just wanted to see them together, not fighting and being depressed -- but, just like I approach my Stephen King fanaticism (which is way out of hand), I treat the movie and the series like a relationship: Recognize the major imperfections, ignore the small ones and try to love it as a whole. I thought the movie rocked a fairly unblazed trail in taking a TV serial and continuing its thread on the silver screen. When it came to critics' opinions -- particularly as time has passed these two years -- and even regular old friends, I felt more and more like a loner in my unrepentant fandom of the flick.
Now the sequel. Again, I'm excited. When I saw the first trailer with my gal, I nudged her and said we'd need to go, even if it was under the guise of her wanting to see it. I gasped -- a little, just a little, guys! -- when I saw Aidan pop up. I sunk into the familiar viewing groove when I heard Carrie's narration over the shimmery shots of Manhattan. Hell, I'm excited to see Liza Minnelli's take on Beyonce's 'Single Ladies.'
I'll be there on opening weekend, sticking out like a sore thumb and not caring, but still wondering ... where are the others like me?
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