216. Was It Good For You?
My friend Charlotte was dating Dr. Bram Walker...
...a very hardworking orthopedic surgeon.
Were you asleep?
No, I was just resting my eyes.
I fell asleep for one second.
I was up at 5:00, I had three carpal tunnels.
It's very exhaustive reconstructive work.
He fell asleep when he was making love to me. He fell asleep!
He was tired. This has nothing to do with you.
Has a man ever fallen asleep making love to you?
No, but I'm sure many of them wanted to.
I can't believe this happened to me!
You want some herb tea?
I must be really bad in bed.
You are not bad in bed.
I've got Constant Comment and do you want some Tummy Tamer?
Of course it's her. I have to say, I'm not surprised.
Ever seen her on a Stairmaster? Nothing happening below the waist.
Nada. No sale.
How can you say that?
Even if she was bad in bed, which she isn't, is it really that important?
Absolutely. Who we are in bed is who we are in life.
I never met a man who was bad in bed who was good at life.
Just for the record, in bed, you are....
Don't make me state the obvious.
How can you be so sure?
No one ever took a nap while fucking me and I get affirmations all the time.
Just Last week....
Last week, Samantha had dinner with a gay couple she'd known for years.
David and David.
Thanks for a lovely dinner. It was fun.
I have to admit, we have an ulterior motive.
We're wondering if you're seeing anyone special right now?
Actually, no. Do you have a hot guy for me?
We want to have sex with a woman.
-Are you serious? -Totally. I'm always curious what it would be like.
We've never done it and we thought it might be fun.
We were like:
“If we were gonna do it with a woman, who would it be?”
-Then we were like, Samantha. -Totally.
We decided of all the beautiful women we know, you are probably the best in bed.
Totally. Look at that!
I'm thinking about doing it. They're cute, they're healthy.
For a sex columnist, you have a limited view of sexuality.
Gay as pink suede.
Wake up. It's 2000.
The new millennium won't be about sexual labels, it'll be about sexual expression.
It won't matter if you're sleeping with men or women.
It'll be about sleeping with individuals.
Or in your case, twos or threes.
Soon everyone will be pansexual. It won't matter if you're gay or straight.
-Just if you're good or bad in bed. -Exactly.
That night I got to thinking about bed.
Are we secretly being graded every time we invite someone to join us in it?
A plus, B, D, incomplete.
Is making love really nothing more than a pop quiz?
If sex is a test, how do we know if we're passing or failing?
How do you know if you're good in bed?
Later that week, I was walking home thinking about my own sexual report card when....
What the hell--
Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't see you. I just threw my cigarette.
I thought I was stung by a bee. Jesus!
I'm sorry. Did it leave a mark?
You can't smoke in the restaurant. I'm a smoker.
I'm a smoker too, but watch where you throw those things?
No, it didn't leave a mark.
As the pain subsided, my mind was free to notice...
...how incredibly cute this guy was.
I am sorry. My name's Patrick Casey.
Carrie Bradshaw, burn victim.
How weird was that? That was intense.
You gotta admit, it's a clever way to meet the ladies.
You got a little comedy routine going there?
Listen, I really feel bad.
At least let me buy you a cup of coffee, or some burn salve?
-Not funny yet. -Sorry.
But it might be after a cappuccino.
There's a place right around the corner. We can smoke there.
Three Marlboros and two Marlboro Lights later I had learned...
...Patrick was a composer, writing music for movies.
What type of movies do you compose for?
Really bad ones.
The I Screamed When I Knew What You Did Last Summer On Elm Street types.
As long as you're challenged by what you do.
Dammit. Patrick Casey, whoever you are. I'm late. I have to go.
Thank you for the coffee. Maybe one day you'll give me scar tissue again.
-You're great. -Thanks.
As I walked away, I started to think:
How many cute, smart, single smokers are there left in the world? Seven?
I decided to do something I almost never do...
...give a man my phone number.
This whole burn lawsuit I plan to initiate...
...it might get a little crazy, so here is my phone number.
You will need that for your attorney...
...or if you want to have coffee again sometime.
I left feeling great. It was such a cute approach. How could he not call?
How could he not call? It's been three days.
Give him 12 more hours and then send him off to the island of lost men.
I don't wanna send him there, I like him.
Could you believe that someone actually had the nerve to call this Florentine Peach?
I can't believe you spent this much on sheets.
It's an experiment. I'm trying to change my bed karma.
I figure if I can make my bed a place I really want to be...
...others will feel the same way.
The field of dreams.
Exactly. ”If you build it, he will come.”
The thing that gets me is, I'm not usually wrong about the phone number size-up.
I don't put it out there unless I'm pretty sure it's coming back.
I'm either really loving or hating the color.
He thinks I'm ugly.
My God. Get a grip.
A guy doesn't call you for three days and you're ugly?
-What's your point? -Pillowcase.
It's amazing. We can feel totally good about ourselves...
...and then it all goes out the window if the guy doesn't mirror it that way back to us.
This has a little weird thing here.
Dammit. Does everything I bring into this bedroom have to have a flaw?
The next day I was in the Village looking for the perfect $7 dress...
...to go with my $300 shoes, when....
I had a choice. I could turn around and run away...
...or I could smile, be brave and walk on over.
So what? Saturday's the day you stand on the street and smoke in the Village?
Hi, I'm Carrie.
-We're kind of in the middle of something. -Right, sure.
Bye. I was on my way to Perry Street.
This is Perry Street.
Bleecker, I meant Bleecker. Okay, bye. Goodbye to you, too.
-Listen. Let me explain. -No, I'm embarrassed.
You're obviously in the middle of a thing with your lover...
...or whoever and I'm there....
No. I'm not gay. I'm an alcoholic.
We were just waiting for a meeting to start.
I wanted to introduce you but it's supposed to be anonymous.
I really wasn't getting the gay vibe from you.
It's just, he was so cute and....
-I never called. -Right.
I was freaked. I've only been in the program 11 months...
...and my sponsor said I really shouldn't get involved with someone for a year.
Okay, maybe you'll call me in a month.
It doesn't bother you that I'm an alcoholic?
God, no. I love alcoholics. Hell, I hope to be one someday.
-That was a joke. -That's not funny, yet.
But it might be after a cappuccino.
What the fuck, it's only a couple of weeks.
Would you like to go on a date sometime?
I can't think why not. You call me.
I accepted his kind invitation because when you think about it...
...aren’t we all in recovery from something?
Drinking? Drugging? Our last relationship?
On our first date, Patrick and I went for coffee.
I'm really compulsive. If I open up a bag of Chips Ahoy, I gotta eat the whole thing.
I'm like that with Reese's Pieces. Reese's Pieces and shoes.
Wouldn't the shoes be a little tough on digestion?
This is me. Thank you, Mr. Casey. I had a great time.
No, Miss Burn Victim. I had the great time.
Then I gave him my very best lean-in-and-kiss-me-goodnight move.
Our next date, over dinner, he told me about working his 12 steps.
After dinner, I stood on my third step trying to work him.
That smell is amazing. What is that?
I'll call you.
I couldn't figure it out.
I knew he wanted me, because during my lean-in-and-kiss-me-goodnight move...
...I'd accidentally, on purpose felt his pop-up-and-say-hello.
What was going on?
By the third date, I wanted him even more than a fistful of Reese's Pieces.
Well then, goodnight.
That was that. I'd hit my humiliation limit.
Then I thought, how many cute, smart, sexy, single, smoking alcoholics...
...are there left in the world? Five?
Do you want to come up?
But you see, the thing is, I've never had sex sober.
I've always been drunk or high. I don't know if I'll be any good.
What the hell? Let's take it one step at a time.
Sex is amazing. It feels so fucking amazing.
Do other people know about this? All right! I did it! Sex without beer!
You! What about you! You are the best.
You weren't half bad yourself.
You are the best.
-You're the best. -I aim to please.
After we have a cigarette...can we do it again?
I'll have a Spanish omelet, hash browns, more coffee and orange juice.
Can I have some rice pudding for later? Thanks.
Storing up for winter?
No, I'm starving. Patrick and I...All last night and I'm just....
No, don't stop, it's okay. Just because I'm bad in bed doesn't mean everybody has to be.
One more time. You are not bad in bed.
Really? Has a man ever fallen asleep making love to you?
No, but I once fell asleep when a guy was doing me. It was the ludes.
I'm mature enough to realize that while I may be good at some things like...
...accessories, that I might need help in others like....
-Fucking? -Making love. So, I'm taking a class.
A fucking class?
No, a tantric sex workshop.
Just don't drink any suspicious Kool-Aid or put on new Nikes.
It's not like that. It's taught by a well-respected woman psychologist.
It's called ”How To Please A Man.”
I know how to please a man. Just give away most of your power.
I have a trainer for the gym. I can have a trainer for--
-Fucking? -Please stop saying that.
Are you actually going to do this?
Seating was limited, so I signed you guys up. Please? I can't go alone.
If Bram ever falls asleep on me again, I will die. Pretty please, with sugar on it?
Christ, I'm in.
What the hell, I don't exactly have them hanging from the rafters.
“How To Please A Man.” I could teach the damn class. All right.
That night, while David and David got undressed...
...and waited for her in the bedroom.
Samantha began to wonder if maybe she was about to go too far.
Was she actually capable of being this sexually free?
Or was she getting in over her head?
She decided before there were any regrets, they should all talk about it a little more.
Listen, David and David, maybe....
You look amazing.
Just like Jean Harlow in Red Dust.
Samantha loved the Samantha mirrored through the eyes of the Davids.
What the hell?
-They're so soft. -I know.
-I can't do this. -Neither can I.
-But I...We're just getting start-- -No, can't.
-I'm sorry. -Sorry. It's very pretty, but no. It's not you, it's us.
I have an idea. Let's all put on our clothes and go out for gelati!
Suddenly, Samantha wasn't feeling so good about herself in bed.
I gotta go or I'm going to be late for the tantric workshop thing.
Baby, you don't need a workshop. You are amazing.
Come on, one more time.
We did it last night and all this morning.
I could have sex with you morning, noon and night.
That's when I realized it. Mr. Compulsive wasn’t in bed with me...
...he was in bed with a big bag of Chips Ahoy.
The intent of tantric...we say ”sacred sexuality...”
...is to experience and merge with the Divine.
I think Patrick's addicted to me.
It's like he's replaced drinking with me.
Program guys are tough.
I dated a guy who was in Over-Eaters Anonymous.
Every time we had a fight, he'd binge-eat hot fudge sundaes.
In other words, ladies, to drive your man crazy.
He wants to have sex all the time. It's getting a little out of hand.
At least he wants to fuck you.
-They were gay. -So?
One minute they were interested and then, suddenly they weren't.
What did I do to turn them off?
Not having a dick would be the thing that you did to turn them off.
You guys, I'm serious. This is rude.
Use it to bring any man to his knees. With love, of course.
Where was this bitch last night when I needed her?
Be quiet and you might learn something. This lady is supposed to be a genius.
If she's so good, why is she having this workshop in her apartment?
I don't know.
Tantric sex is not about talk, it's about action. Delayed action.
So, without further delay...let me introduce my husband. Dr. Ronny Shapiro.
I will demonstrate the very effective...Lingham Massage.
I think I know why we're in an apartment.
The receiver lies on his back...before the giver, naked.
Genitals clearly exposed for the massage.
You're not writing.
Take your time doing this.
An hour and a half later, crippled by our inability to look away from a car crash...
...we watched as the Dr. Shapiro illustrated tantric sex.
Massage the head of the Lingham...as if you are using an orange juicer.
There go my good feelings about breakfast.
Stop it! You're embarrassing me.
We're the embarrassing part?
Place your right hand...on the receiver's Root chakra.
The Root chakra is located between the anus and the genitals.
I think that I just got my 50 bucks worth.
Gently rock your hand to awaken this chakra.
Clinically referred to as perineum.
Perineum: Latin for ”not without an engagement ring.”
Will the women who are laughing compose themselves?
Thank you. Orgasm is not the goal of Lingham Massage...
...but can be a pleasant and very welcome side effect.
Watch what I'm doing here. If you can master this...
...your man will always be faithful.
Because once they go tantric...they don't go back.
You go, girl.
See that? Can you all see this?
And just like that, Miranda got hit by Old Faithful.
That night after we talked Miranda in from the ledge, I met Patrick for a movie.
I was telling my sponsor today how I felt about you...
...and suddenly I realized maybe I should just tell you. I love you.
There it was, the little phrase every girl is dying to hear...
...a week and a half into a relationship.
Thanks and that's so...
What? Too soon? Is that what you're thinking?
We have been going out for, like, a minute.
Fuck that shit. I don't want to play games.
I'm just trying to own my feelings. I love you. I said it.
Mr. Casey, you do not love me...you love you, not drinking, with me.
No, I love you.
I'm so flattered...but I think maybe we should slow down a little here.
What does that mean?
It means that things are going very fast and....
You have all these new feelings because you're not drinking…
No, don't give me that program bullshit.
This has nothing to do with drinking. I love you.
Maybe we should spend a little time apart. I'll call you tomorrow.
-I'm not coming up? -Just a couple of nights.
Are you breaking up with me? ’Cause if…
I'm not breaking up with you. I'm just going inside.
Call me tomorrow. We'll do something next week, okay?
What am I going to do now?
You should go to a meeting. And then go home, and call me tomorrow.
Goodnight. I'll see you next week. Go.
Get yourself some cookies.
Meanwhile, across town at Charlotte's....
My God, what are you doing? My God.
You are good. Sweet Christ! You are good!
Charlotte considered it the best 50 bucks she'd ever spent.
It cost Miranda a little more, but across town in her bed, things were good as well.
What are you doing?
Fuck you, you bitch!
I loved you and you didn't love me.
You fucking made me date you...before the month and now I'm drunk.
And I don't care! I love you! I love you! Make love to me!
What are you doing? Don't take your clothes off.
My first impulse was to go down and rescue him...
...but as I learned on our second date, that would be codependent.
Still, I felt I had to do something.
Here, put this on, you'll get a cold.
I hope i fucking die!
Quiet, asshole, I'll call the cops!
Shut the fuck up, dickweed!
Carrie! You were the best fuck I ever had!
Three weeks later, I got a letter from Patrick...
...saying he was back in the program and wanted to make amends.
I never saw him again but I always wondered two things:
Was he able to stay sober? Am I really that good in bed?