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Sex and the City Season 2 Episode 1


201. Take Me Out to the Ballgame


When you live on a tiny island like Manhattan...
...the odds of bumping into the one who broke your heart are incredibly high.
The odds of bumping into him when you look like shit are even higher.
After a break-up, certain streets, locations, even times of day are off-limits.
The city becomes a deserted battlefield loaded with emotional land mines.
You have to be very careful where you step or you could be blown to pieces.
Get your coat, Anne Frank, we're going out.
-I'm really not in the mood. -Coat on. Body out.
-Where are we going? -It's a surprise.
Only if it's nowhere I can run into him.
Just when exactly do you think you're gonna be getting out of this hostage situation?
What? Am I wrong?
Don't listen to her; it's only been a month.
It takes half the total time you went out with someone to get over them.
I always like a big math solution to any love problem.
It's the break-up rule. You and Big only went out for a year.
So that means she's got five more months to get over him.
You gotta cut your losses and get back in the game.
When Eric and I broke up, I got over him right away.
I don't really remember it being like that.
Eric who?
Eric, asshole I dated a couple of years ago.
That Eric.
Miranda called Eric the love of her life until he left her for another woman.
Now, she almost never mentioned him.
You can't push yourself into feeling good.
The only way to get over somebody is to feel really bad, cry to your girlfriends...
...and then to replay what you hated about him over and over in your head all day.
That sounds about right.
You're way too dressed up for where we're going.
I'm gonna risk being overdressed vs. the chance of meeting Big the first time looking the way I feel.
The first meeting is the worst, you never know how to act.
Then there's the vomiting.
If Big had any class, he would've moved away. I was here first.
You're giving him too much power. You broke up with him.
Right, and that makes me what, happy?
Taxi!
Amazingly, Samantha was still with James. A monogamous relationship...
...for a woman whose bedroom was busier than Balducci's on a Saturday.
You lovebirds....
How are the most beautiful women in Manhattan?
If we see them, I'll ask.
Have a fun day. Don't let anything bad happen to my princess. I love you.
God, everything is going so great.
Me, James, and his tiny penis: We're one big happy family.
After two months, despite all his sweetness and charm...
...Samantha still hadn't quite accepted James's shortcomings.
When Miranda said, ”Get back in the game," she meant it.
Forty minutes and a $55 cab ride later, we found ourselves at Yankee Stadium.
Who wants another?
Miranda was a huge fan of the Yankees.
I was a huge fan of being anywhere you can smoke and drink at 2:00 in the afternoon without judgment.
Beer!
Do they have hot cocoa?
Coming up to bat, the new Yankee. Just up from the Minors, single. So cute.
I can barely see him. Why are we sitting all the way up here?
It's the only place I can smoke without Giullani putting me away for 10 years.
These seats suck. This hot dog sucks. My entire life sucks.
Your life doesn't suck. You have a man who really loves you.
Love!
I don't think you ladies understand the seriousness of my situation.
How would you like to make love to this every night?
Is it kosher?
Don't make me laugh. It's tragic.
Can we try and get into the game for a second?
C'mon! Show us what you got.
Last year this guy was Mr. September. He hit like ten home runs in nine days.
Ball! Good eye! Way to watch them.
He batted.373. He drove in 47 runs. His on-base percentage was.410.
As Miranda went on and on about the new Yankee's stats...
...I couldn’t help wondering about my own.
Ten years playing in New York. Countless dates.
Five real relationships. One serious. All ending in break-ups.
If I were a ballplayer, I'd be batting... Whatever really bad is.
My God! Here it comes!
You got it!
Do you know what the odds of catching a fly ball are?
I didn't. I couldn't help wondering if they were any higher...
...than finding a relationship that would last.
Three innings, four beers and one shameless flash of my press pass later....
We waited outside the locker room to get my ball signed by the new Yankee.
Good game.
Did you see that bulge?
He was wearing a cup.
His cup runneth over.
It's official, you're drunk.
I'm not drunk, I'm sedated from my pain.
She's allowed to be drunk, she's going through a break-up.
Excuse me. Huge Yankee fan.
We don't mean to bother you but my friend caught your ball. This is her.
I'm her friend.
We were wondering if you'd sign it?
-That foul ball to the upper deck? -Yes. I mean...Yes. If it's not too....
I'm a huge Yankees fan. I'm a Lawyer.
If I don't sign it, you'll sue me?
No. I don't know why I said that.
No problem, give me the ball.
Give him the ball.
-Could you hold these? -Sure.
-You a Yankees fan, too? -No, I came for the beer. I think baseball's a little dull.
-What do you do? -She writes a column. A sex column.
-Nothin' dull about that. -You'd be surprised.
-Here you go. -Thank you.
He's so cute.
I'm gonna ask him to the Dolce & Gabbana party.
What?
No, really, you can't.
Yankee!
I don't know if it was the beer or the fact that I was holding his ball.
Something gave me the strength to ask the new Yankee out.
No. This is not fair. This is not the way this is supposed to happen.
Why? You told me to get back in the game.
With some balding C.P.A. or other boring rebound guy.
Nobody rebounds with the new Yankee.
Maybe I'm the new Carrie. C’mon let's blow this hot dog stand.
Samantha, let's go.
She knew it was risky, but a day of watching big men...
...swing their big wooden bats proved to be too much for Samantha.
She told herself there's no harm in just looking.
Can I help you?
As my ballpark cheap beer buzz wore off...
...I began to worry about the ramifications of my day.
Was Charlotte right?
Were we supposed to get over an ex in a slow, painful way?
Or should we ignore all the bad feelings and throw ourselves back in the game?
In a world where leaving each other seems to be getting more and more frequent....
What are the break-up rules?
Whatever you do, man, don't cry.
'Cause if you do get back together again, then, you're the guy that cried.
Don't call or see him’til three months have passed...
...and that’s how long you take to lose the weight you put on while breaking up.
Give her whatever she wants, but don't sign a motherfucking thing.
Change your name, change your phone number.
Change your job. They're all bums.
You got a problem?
Friday night, the Dolce & Gabbana party.
The new Yankee was 10 minutes late. I was running 20 behind.
I was reaching for my favorite necklace when....
I thought I'd destroyed all the evidence, but there it was.
We'd taken it with a disposable camera...
...before it ever dawned on me that we could be disposable as well.
It was then and there I created my own very first break-up rule:
Destroy all pictures where he looks sexy and you look happy.
The party was a complete home run. All the fashion heavy-hitters were there.
Charlotte was dating Paul Ericson...
...the V.P. of a major recording label's classical and jazz division.
Having a good time?
You’re not gonna believe it. This guy's never heard Miles Davis.
I don't really like that jazz stuff.
I'm gonna give you our Best of Miles Davis CD.
His stuff will change your mind.
His concentration and emotion in the phrasing...It's fucking magical.
He was handsome, smart, eclectic. The perfect match for Charlotte.
Except for one minor snag.
The authenticity of Miles' timbre is gonna blow you away.
I mean the fusion revolution changed the entire concept of contemporary music.
There we were, two single gals out on the town with our ballplayers.
What's wrong?
I thought I saw....
-Where? -No, it wasn't him.
Do you think he'll be here?
I don't know, I hadn't thought about it.
Break-up rule number two:
Lie. It's a lot easier than admitting that's why you invited the new Yankee...
...and why you maxed out your credit card to buy the dress.
When Mr. Big never made an appearance, I decided to make the best of it.
I actually got to know a little about this new Yankee. His name was Joe.
So, Joe, the new Yankee...How'd you like your first fashion party?
It was kind of cool. What?
Nothing. It's just...."Kind of cool." You're very succinct.
Are you making fun of me?
A little bit.
You're kind of cute.
You're kind of cute, too.
And there, in the shadow of my island...just four weeks out of my last relationship...
...I let the new Yankee get to first base.
Our Saturday morning ritual: coffee, eggs, and a very private dish session…
…except today our dish wasn't so private.
You're on page six.
"Hot Yankee Joe Stark on the town with New York columnist...
"...and’sex-pert', Carrie Bradshaw."
Sex-pert? It's a proud day for me.
That dress just paid for itself. Big is gonna see this and die.
I don't want him to die.
Cut the shit, it's me. You're using that Yankee.
Everybody has got to look at my new Palm Pilot.
-It's amazing. -This is so great.
The first time Big sees you, you look great and you're with the Yankee.
Why are we still talking about him? He hurt her. He's out of the picture. It’s over.
Let's talk about something else, okay?
I have a problem with my boyfriend.
I'm gonna go get the check.
I don't know really quite how to say this, but he's always...touching his--
Balls. I know, Carrie told me.
It freaked me out. I didn't know what the hell was going on there.
I still don't. What is going on there?
I don't know but it's constant. He can't seem to leave them alone.
He and every other guy on the planet.
They always try to pull our attention there.
"Look what I got."
I don't get it. He's from a good family. He went to Brown. Why is he doing that?
-Does he have a pair of low-hangers? -Is that a patented phrase?
Sometimes they hang so low, they get in the way.
I heard Nick Nolte had a ball lift.
I don't know how long they are.
Wait a minute. You've been dating for three weeks and you haven't seen his balls yet?
C’mon. Get with the program.
But why do men do this?
How would they feel if we stood around in public touching ourselves?
They'd love it.
What are we talking about?
Charlotte's boyfriend's balls.
Seriously?
-They're too long. -She's just guessing.
Okay. That's it. I'm out of here.
All we talk about anymore...is Big or balls or small dicks.
How does this happen four smart women have nothing to talk about but boyfriends?
It's like seventh grade with bank accounts. What about us?
What we think, we feel, we know...Christ! Does it always have to be about them?
Give me a call when you're ready to talk about something besides men for a change.
In the case of Miranda Hobbes vs. silly women everywhere, the verdict was in.
Guilty as charged.
After breakfast, Charlotte and I went shopping.
Break-up rule number three: Until emotionally stabilized, enter no stores.
Later that night, Samantha and James were about to enter the seventh inning stretch.
When I arch my back, I want you to lift that ass and really give it to me.
Rather than quit mid-season, Samantha decided to attack her problem...
...with the gusto of a seasoned coach training a rookie.
Go, go, lift. Lift that ass. Give it to me!
A good coach encourages and motivates.
You are so hot. Fuck me. You hot stud.
A good coach disciplines and criticizes.
No. What are you doing back there? Let's go.
And like every good coach...
...she passed on the benefits of her years of experience.
Baby, I'm close. Get up here and slide inside of me. Hurry, slide, slide, slide!
Then, at the bottom of the ninth try, with two balls and two strikes.
The coach had no choice, but to bring in a pinch hitter.
What's that?
It's my vibrator. I thought it would be fun.
I think just us might be more fun. That's not a problem, is it?
But there was no joy in Mudville. Mighty Samantha had struck out.
But a little further uptown, the ball game was just getting started.
I have a present for you.
I thought you just gave me one.
I was at Barneys today. Here.
Charlotte had decided a possible solution to her problem...
...might be as simple as briefs vs. boxers.
The salesman said that these were the very best.
They're like the Wonderbra for men.
They give good support, something about the pouch.
We haven't even made love yet and you're out shopping for me? Slow down.
It's not like that--
It's what?
But Charlotte couldn't bring herself to tell him the problem was foul balls.
This is too fast. Way too fast.
First comes the underwear, then you move in.
And then the next thing I know, you hate my music.
And that was that. He broke it off after only three weeks.
Charlotte, true to form, was over him in exactly a week and a half.
Whenever Miranda was feeling stressed out, she went for a long walk.
She'd lose herself in the places and faces...
...and whatever was bothering her would somehow lift.
But today, she would have no such luck.
I really thought he liked me. Why didn't he call me?
Just when Miranda decided she was the only woman in New York...
...with any real perspective on men....
There he was. Eric Asshole. The former love of her life…
Walking hand in hand with the woman he left her for.
Somewhere between playing the Royals and the Red Sox...
...the new Yankee found a minute to teach me some dugout pastimes.
One, two, three, toss.
Shit.
If you don't get this, we don't move on to spitting.
Hold my beer.
-Back, back, back. -Sorry.
Break-up rule number four: Never stop thinking about him even for a moment...
...because that's the moment he'll appear.
As he made his way through the crowd, I felt calm.
I had accomplished the perfect first meeting.
I looked good, I felt good, and I was with the new Yankee.
Surprise.
Look at you...I've been...
-How've you-- -Good, good, good.
-Sorry. This is Joe Stark. -I know who he is. I'm a big fan. Good luck this season.
Thanks.
I saw your picture in the paper. You never looked better.
You want another round?
Some buddies are at a bar on Bleeker.
-How about it? -Sure.
I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, it's not you. This is....
This is really embarrassing.
-I'm sorry. I'm really embarrassed. -You're okay.
I don't think I'm okay. I just...I just cried in your mouth.
I just--I can't...I'm not ready.
That guy in the bar...That suit guy.
I better go. Sorry.
-You want a ride home? -No, please.
Don't pay any more attention to me. Just go, please.
Go to that bar thing. I'm just gonna get a cab, all right?
Please. Will you just go? All right, then I'll go.
But I didn't go home. I couldn't. I went to a pay phone.
It's me. Hi, Listen.
I know things are really weird between us right now.
But I really need to talk.
Can you....will you meet me at our place in 15 minutes? Okay.
I saw Big. And I completely fell apart.
I know you want me to be over him--
I'm a jerk. That's my stuff. It's not you.
I saw Eric on the street today. And I hid.
After two years. I forgot how hard it is.
Just take all the time you need, okay?
-These are cold. -So?
And finally, the most important break-up rule:
No matter who broke your heart or how long it takes to heal...
...you'll never get through it without your friends.
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