202. The Awful Truth
Two years ago, my friend Susan Sharon...
...the East Coast rep for a line of Italian cashmere sportswear...
...married a mean man.
What did I tell you about listening to my CDs?
You put Natalie Imbruglia back in U2!
Now, I only see her once or twice a year...
...generally when her husband is out of town.
Now, I can not remember if I've taken my Halcion before dinner or not.
So I take another one, I have a cocktail, I'm feeling no pain.
The next thing I know, this freaked out stewardess is slapping me awake.
I open my eyes, I look around the plane, it's completely empty.
-Turns out we'd landed in Milan 30 minutes ago. -My God.
You know what. Come up to my apartment because I have something for you.
The place looks fantastic!
Susan Sharon and her husband had one of those very adult apartments...
...that made me feel like I was 16 visiting the home of a friend...
...whose parents thought I was a bad influence.
Happy birthday, Carrie.
You didn't have to.
I know it's a little early.
It's 100 percent Italian cashmere and light as a feather.
God, I love it. It's a”cashmere-ical."
-You wouldn’t believe what Barneys gets for this. -Don't tell me.
-$900. -$900 for a scarf? No.
-Do you mind if I return it? I an really use the cash. -Why not?
Why do you think they call it ”cash-mere"?
-What the hell is going on? -Sorry, honey.
-But Carrie had this idea about returning-- -What...
...was our agreement about visitors after 9:00 p.m.?
-I know, it's her birthday. -I'm on London time!
I've got to be up in three hours when the markets open.
I'd really appreciate it if you'd take the fucking noise somewhere else.
-I'll call you. -Just ignore him. You don't have to leave.
-Goodnight, Grumpy. -Get the fuck out of my house!
Taunting the psychotic spouse, I realized, was not a wise move.
Just shut the fuck up!
I wondered...could Susan Sharon’s marriage be that bad…
…or was their fighting just a form of foreplay?
In which case, I was merely the catalyst to get things going.
I am so sorry. I'm so embarrassed.
Don't be. He's just tired and cranky.
That was classic Richard:
Tyrannical, emotionally abusive. I don't know what to do anymore.
Maybe there were special circumstances tonight.
He works hard. He's sleep deprived.
BLah, blah, blah. I don't give a shit!
What would you do if you’re with a guy like that? Would you leave?
If things didn't change....
They haven't, and they won't.
Do you think I should leave him?
If you're not happy, you know, life's too short.
I gotta go.
As I hung up, I realized I had just been placed in a classic no-win situation.
Telling a friend to leave her husband is something you just don't do.
If she does break up with him, it's your fault.
If she doesn't break up with him, she knows you think they should...
...and therefore, can never speak to you again. Either way, you're screwed.
Which is a shame, because there goes your cashmere connection.
She had me at a weak moment. I was tired, I'd just been chased out of her apartment.
I have a birthday looming.
-I said too much. -No, I just think in an intimate relationship...
-...you should be able to say anything. -I would highly disagree.
Practically all the relationships I know are based on a foundation of lies...
...and mutually accepted delusion.
James and me, for instance. I pretend he doesn't have a small dick.
He pretends not to notice we haven't had sex in 3 weeks.
You should be working with the U.N.
I happen to be in an intimate relationship at the moment...
...and I can tell you, the level of verbal discourse has become a little too intimate.
-Are we speaking of Spring Roll Guy? -Who's that?
Aaron Melman. He's a dermatologist I met at the Vietnamese lunch truck outside my building.
What's the problem?
The problem, if you can call it that is Spring Roll Guy liked to talk dirty in bed.
Baby, I just love the way your pussy feels.
So wet...and warm...and tight.
Kissing your beautiful tits feels unbelievably sexy.
So hot and nasty. How's it feel to you?
What you said.
That can be a turn on.
Sure, but now he wants me to reciprocate. I can't. I never could.
Because sex is not a time to chat.
In fact it's one of the few instances in my overly articulated, exceedingly verbal life...
...where it is perfectly appropriate, if not preferable, to shut up.
Now suddenly I have to worry about being stumped for conversation? No, thank you.
Just talk about his big cock.
Correction, his big, beautiful cock.
-We're using the ”C" word now? -Sorry.
-I can't use adjectives. -A simple ”You're so hard," is effective.
-Sometimes men need to hear a little encouragement. -Such as?
You know..."Yes, stud, that's right.
"Don't stop, just like that. C'mon, fucker, don't stop."
You're kidding, right?
No, they like it.
So, are you really telling us that during sex you're completely mute?
No, I can do a good orgasm alert.
"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum."
But that's because I'm gonna cum. Anything else feels like make believe.
If you really like this guy, you're gonna have to start talking.
Was Miranda right?
Have we put such a premium on being open and honest with one another...
...that we've misplaced the boundaries of propriety?
Are there still certain things in a relationship one should never say?
My best friend got engaged to the biggest loser I’ve ever met.
What am I supposed to tell her? ”You're marrying an imbecile?"
My wife, she's had her breasts done twice. They look fantastic, they feel like shit.
I keep that thought to myself.
I'm single, 38, and still hoping to get married. I don't want to know the truth.
I told Richard I couldn't spend another day married to a man who behaves like an utter asshole.
There it was, standing across from me.
Biscotti-eating, cashmere-swaddled proof that I had said too much.
-Then what happened? -Once I said that, the floodgates opened.
He said to me that at our wedding, when he looked at me...
...he felt a huge wave of disappointment because I looked so generic.
I said to him, ”On second thought...
"...I don't think the Rogaine is working."
He said to me that if I leave, all he'll feel for me is pity...
...because he'll be remarried within a year and I'll be single for the rest of my life.
I didn't want to tell Susan Sharon that his last statement was probably true.
I just feel like I owe you so much.
If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have had the guts to do this.
It's like I was under house arrest for the past few years and now I'm suddenly free.
What are you gonna do?
Do you mind if I stay at your place tonight?
Of course not.
That evening, as Susan Sharon squatted on my couch...
...Charlotte came home to the new male in her life.
Fed up with lonely mornings, cuddle-free nights...
...and the lack of unconditional love she so longed for...
...Charlotte decided to take matters into her own hands.
She combed the city for the perfect specimen of breeding, style and trendiness.
Henry, I'm home. Hi, my good boy.
Until she found the perfect man, Charlotte would have the perfect dog.
That night, Samantha, who was never good at keeping a secret...
...suddenly found the one thing she couldn’t say was the only thing she could think about.
Sweetheart, is anything wrong? If there is, I want you to tell me.
No, honey, I'm tired.
I feel like you've become so distant, like you're upset with me about something.
I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me. I'm not upset about anything. You're wonderful.
Will you do me a favor come see a couple's counselor with me?
Samantha dreaded the shrink the way most people feared the dentist.
If it's really important to you--
She suddenly longed for the simple days...
...of emotional unavailability and hot one-night stands.
Meanwhile, across town, Miranda was appearing as Eliza Doolittle...
...in My Filthy Lady.
I just love kissing this sensitive spot right here. Do you like that?
- Tell me what you like. -That.
- You like my hand there, caressing your breast? - Sure.
-Gently pinching your nipple. -Fine.
Kissing my chest. That's hot. That really turns me on.
- How's it feel? Hot? - Hot.
-Hairy? -God, you're getting me hard. Tell me how it feels.
- Big. - And?
- Hard? Rock hard. -Keep talking.
A big rock. A hard rock. A big, hard rock.
-A sausage. -Baby, you are so nasty.
Surprisingly enough, once Miranda opened her mouth, she found it was difficult to shut up.
A big, throbbing, rock-hard sausage.
That night, I took Susan Sharon to meet the new male in Charlotte's life.
True to form, he was already falling far short of her high expectations.
He did it a minute ago.
He was inconsistent...
Get the ball.
...selfishly stubborn, and hopelessly codependent.
Isn't he smart?
We shouldn't stay long. I want to be back at your apartment in case Richard calls.
Aren't you leaving him?
I am. But if he calls, I want to be there and tell him I won't talk to him.
That's really passive aggressive. You should only speak to him if you have something specific to say.
-Do you believe I married a prick? -You didn't know he was a prick.
I just can't believe that prick hasn't called.
AIthough, he does have this sweet side. You just don't know him very well.
Did I do the right thing, Henry? Should I give him another chance…
He's a dog, not an oracle.
The next morning, I woke up to an unsettling birthday surprise.
"Best wishes on your birthday."
It's from Big.
-What kind of flowers? -Roses, red. Big. Expensive.
-What do you think it means? -It means rip up the card.
And watch out for the thorns.
No, this is the grand gesture.
The grand gesture?
If you break up with someone, and he disappears from your life altogether...
...it wasn't meant to be.
But if they make a powerful declaration of their love, then you really have to reconsider.
You think a dozen roses and a card saying, ”Best wishes" qualifies as a grand gesture?
You know men. They can never say, ”I was wrong." They just send flowers.
Sometimes a rose is just a rose.
Not jewelry, that's another story.
Henry, no. Henry, no, not the purse.
I really don't need this on my birthday.
What does this mean, the ball's in my court or something?
I don't want to play games.
This is not the grand gesture. This is the vague gesture...
...which is truly worse than no gesture at all.
Under the guise of thoughtfulness, he's being very selfish.
I agree, he's muddied the waters.
You're all just cuckoo. The man sends flowers on her birthday and you condemn him.
Henry, no. No, damn it.
For Christ sake, give the dog a break.
He's eaten four pairs of shoes. I don't want him starting on purses.
Damn it, now. We're gonna go home.
You wanted to get out and socialize, but you just have to learn how to behave.
Speaking of cuckoo....
Charlotte was at the point of a relationship where she was starting to see the real Henry.
But she did raise a valid question.
Was, ”I was wrong," the one thing Mr. Big couldn't say?
I realized that just because we were no longer together, didn’t mean I couldn't be polite.
It's me. Carrie.
How are you doing?
Great. I just wanted to call and thank you for the flowers. That was very thoughtful of you.
My secretary had it on her calendar, so I, you know....
Your secretary sent them?
I sent the flowers, my secretary alerted me to the day.
That was very thoughtful of her and you for sending them.
You're welcome. What are you doing on the big day?
Stanford's arranged this party down at Layla, that Moroccan restaurant. You should come.
The instant the words popped out of my mouth, I regretted them.
I made plans already.
Or not. I mean, just forget it.
I could stop by later.
I may bring someone.
Come and bring that person and maybe I'll see you later.
Thank you again for the thoughtful flowers.
I couldn't believe it. I had just invited my ex and his date to my birthday party.
As if getting older wasn't traumatic enough.
That afternoon in the office of Velma Rudin...
...celebrated psychologist and author of In-to-me-see...
...A Couple's Guide to Intimacy...
...Samantha did her best not to say the one thing she knew she shouldn’t say.
I can’t help noticing that our sex life has diminished.
That's normal, isn't it? I mean, after a while--
How long has it been?
Don't take it all so seriously.
Have fun with your sexuality.
Have you tried playing erotic games?
Samantha had burning desire to confess that James...
...had been playing ”hide the salami" since they met.
I'm just not feeling very sexual these days.
I saw you masturbating the other day when I came out of the shower.
Many women are simply unable to achieve orgasm through intercourse.
It's nothing to be ashamed of.
You have a problem with intimacy.
No, that's not it.
-What is it? -It's nothing.
There’s nothing you can say can hurt me, as long as it's what you're feeling.
That seems to be all the time we have for today.
Nice work, you two. Shall we say next week, same time?
Good for me.
The idea of seeing Velma ”In-to-me-see" Rudin on a weekly basis...
...was much more than Samantha could bear.
Your penis is too small.
It doesn't--and it just--it can't.
I can't. It's just too damn small.
Did you ever stop to think that maybe your vagina is too big?
What can I say? I need a big dick.
I hear that.
As Samantha paid the price of mentioning the unmentionable...
...Miranda discovered that free speech comes with a cost of its own.
I just love putting my hand around your cock.
I just love hearing you say ”cock."
Your big hard cock. Cock, cock, cock.
Why couldn't I ever say that before? It's just a word.
Why does it turn us both on when I say it?
What else do you like?
I like it when you're rough.
When you throw my legs over your head, I lose all control.
What do I like?
You like it when I'm biting your nipple.
You like it when I'm kissing your balls.
You really like it when I slip my finger in your ass.
You just love a finger in your ass.
How was I supposed to know, ”You love a finger in your ass"...
...is the one thing you can't say when we’re in bed?
Trust me, that's not the only thing.
-But it's true, he enjoys it. -So do a lot of men.
They enjoy it. They just don't want it brought to their attention.
Personally, I don't like anything in my ass.
I know that may come as a surprise.
I just feel so betrayed.
He tried to get me to talk dirty, I kinda got into it a little bit, then he pulled the rug out from under me.
Men are so frustratingly inconsistent. That's why I love my Henry.
He's a big love bug. You tell him anything and he licks your face.
Charlotte, you may be onto something.
Another double vodka rocks for the birthday girl.
The truth was, vodka was my only ally.
At any moment, Big was gonna walk in with his gorgeous date...
...smile at me like some distant stranger and say something crushing like…
Happy birthday, baby.
Glad you could make it.
I can't stay long. I left my camel outside.
You remember Jack?
Jack is your date?
I wasn't aware we were formally dating, but--
It is so good to see you again. How have you been?
Marvelous, I split up with a bitch who broke my heart. She didn't get my money.
Happy birthday to me.
An hour later, my Arabian Nights fantasy birthday suddenly felt like Midnight Express.
-How are you? -Great.
How are you?
Excuse me, what is your ex doing at your birthday?
I told him to drop by for a drink. I didn't think he'd stay for a lap dance.
My God, have you tried the baba ganooj? It is to die for.
I don't eat baba ganooj.
You don't know what you're missing.
I can't believe the bastard had the nerve to show up.
I can't believe what that woman can do with her belly button.
Please, I think I'm about to lose my couscous.
While I watched my ex get a Mesopotamian lap dance...
...Susan Sharon made a play for Mr. Marvelous.
I don't know if I can deal with being single all over again.
Every relationship has its ups and downs. My husband and I work very hard.
We probably don't spend enough damn time together.
Compounded by the fact that neither of us gets enough sleep. Then again, who does?
I really never imagined myself as a divorcee, you know?
But I do think it's more important to till your own soil than to go in search of greener pastures.
Do you ever shut the fuck up?
In that moment, Susan Sharon suddenly realized how much she desperately missed her husband.
That night, Charlotte came home to a very unpleasant surprise.
Charlotte realized, like so many males before him...
...Henry had shit all over her perfect world.
He and Charlotte soon parted ways.
The one thing she could never say was, ”I got rid of the puppy."
Of course we all know what happened to him.
He'd become the glue that put Susan Sharon and her husband back together again.
Shut up. Shut the fuck up.
Although neither of them could admit that a dog saved their marriage.
Later that evening, as my birthday passed into the early morning hours of just another day...
...I found myself alone on the street with Mr. Big.
Another year older.
And none the wiser.
That's the way it goes.
-Can I give you a ride home? -No, I'm just gonna grab a cab.
-Do you need cab fare? -No, I'm okay.
Good, because I think I left all my $20 in that belly dancer's crotch.
As I watched him go, I realized the one thing I couldn't say to Mr. Big was...
..."I'm still not over you."