203. The Freak Show
Manhattan, for millions of our forefathers, the gateway to hope...
...opportunity and happiness beyond their wildest dreams.
Today, that hope is still alive. It's called The First Date.
On Saturday nights, every restaurant in Lower Manhattan...
...resembles its own little Ellis Island.
Hordes of single women crowded into a hot, cramped space...
...hoping to make it to their final destination: the state of matrimony.
Or at least to get a hot meal in transit.
Samantha didn't believe in The First Date. But she did believe in sex after it.
I think you missed a drop.
Harrison was a very successful litigator...
...who took steam baths with Ron Perlman...
...and owned an apartment on the 39th floor of Museum Tower.
An excellent first-date pedigree.
After dinner, Harrison invited Samantha up to see his view.
I think you should know my specialty is sexual harassment.
Really. So is mine.
This is a classic case: a classic case of entrapment.
Beautiful woman, mind-altering wine... I could claim temporary insanity.
I do have a prior record of driving men a little crazy.
You fit the profile. Most sexual harassment cases are brought by older women.
-I'm sorry? -No offense, but c’mon, what are you: 40, 41?
Samantha had celebrated her 35th birthday...
...for as long as we could remember.
-I'm just gonna freshen up. -I think you're pretty fresh already.
Hey, sexy, I'm over here.
There, next to his Brooks Brothers suits...
...was the world's smallest cedar-lined den of inequity.
-You've got to be kidding. -C'mon. Slap me hard.
Apparently the view left a little to be desired.
The next night, Samantha invited us to a party she was throwing...
...for the new coffee-table book du jour.
The book was awful, but the hors d'oeuvres were fabulous.
Give him credit. Takes a lot of work to get rigged up like that.
Most of my first dates don't even open the cab door.
-What if he's still hanging there? -The super'd find him eventually.
You see, this is why I don't date. The men out there are freaks.
That's completely unfair.
If a man is over 30 and single, there's something wrong with him.
It's Darwinian. They're being weeded out from propagating the species.
-What about us? -We're just choosey. I'm getting more shrimp.
You know what the worst part of the date was?
Harrison actually thought I was 40.
Do you think I look 40?
If Samantha's past four birthdays taught me anything...
...it was that there is only one answer to this question.
You don't look a day over 35.
This is a great party. I just met the most amazing guy, Mitchell Saylor.
When Charlotte really liked a guy, she said his whole name.
It helped her to imagine their future monogrammed towels.
-Yeah, do you know him? -Honey, I know of him.
What is that supposed to mean?
Ladies, I suggest you join me in the bathroom.
-He's Mr. Pussy. -Mr. who?
Suddenly, Charlotte's towels were looking very different.
He's renowned, he loves going down on women.
-He's so cute to be so nasty. -That's disgusting!
-I told you there'd be something. -He's a legend. He's just amazing at eating pussy.
-Would you please stop calling it that? -Fine. Going down, giving head.
-Eating out? –Never understood that. Shouldn't it be eating in?
-You do do that, right? -Of course! I just don't have to talk about it.
Reality was, the only thing that went down with regularity on Charlotte's dates...
...was a Gold American Express card.
Forget it. I'm not dating anyone who is known as Mr. Pussy.
-Why not? -Maybe I want more than that.
Sweetie, if a man is good at that, there is nothing more.
You have to be talking about Mitch Saylor. He's unbelievable.
I dated him for a month. He was so good, I actually passed out when I came. Enjoy.
The guy's got good word of mouth.
My God, right over there. That's him.
Unlike Miranda, I wasn't ready to accept that all single men were freaks.
I was so optimistic that I had actually agreed to go on my first blind date in two years.
P.J. was a very successful independent-movie producer.
His documentary on endangered seagulls had just aired to excellent reviews on PBS.
So, documentary films. That must be fun.
Let's be realistic. I'm only doing this docu bullshit to earn a rep.
UItimately, I want to parlay into the action-movie arena. I wanna make money.
I'm not afraid to say it. I love money. I'd sell toilet bowls if it'd make me a millionaire.
-What about the seagulls? -Fuck the seagulls.
Step right up, folks.
Two vodkas and a $12 pasta buys your admission to see...
...The Man With No Soul.
Observe if you dare, this chilling sight. Bachelor Number Two seemed promising.
Just so you know, I can't see a movie without popcorn.
I'm a Junior Mints kind of guy. This relationship is probably doomed.
You want to lean a little closer? Maybe hear our entire conversation?
Here’s a better idea. Why don't you and your fucking girlfriend just sit on our laps at the movie?
Then you won't miss a fucking word, dick!
Ladies and gentlemen, stand far away from The Man With Two Faces.
They say the third time's the charm.
Max was a broker who made $2 million on bonds last year.
We had a great dinner in Little Italy.
Not only did Max have $2 million...
...he also appeared to have a lending library in his pants.
Parents, please keep the kiddies away from the cage of...
...The Man Who Steals Cheap Used Books for No Reason.
Okay, now I was afraid.
Apparently the men in the dating world had devolved since the last time I visited.
Maybe Miranda was right.
Maybe they should never have outlawed freak shows...
...because at least then the freaks were rounded up in one place.
Now they're out there among us, roaming free. Is it true?
Are all men freaks?
Apparently Charlotte's week went a little better than mine.
On Monday night, she was finally ready to let Mitch under her sheets...
Sorry. It tickles.
That night Charlotte came harder than she ever had before.
That is, until Tuesday.
That night, Charlotte saw God seven times.
For a lapsed Episcopalian, it was a very Good Friday.
If Mitch was a freak, Charlotte was ready to run away and join the circus.
Meanwhile, all I wanted to do was run away.
He was a kleptomaniac.
Last month, I went out with a woman who slept with her shoes on.
I was instantly attracted.
But I was pretty sure I could feel webs between his fingers.
So when did you guys all become freaks?
Us? No. The Shoe Woman seemed totally normal.
Then a month in, I discover she's a freak. They hide it really well.
That's why I don't date anymore. Women are bizarre.
-Thank you. -Sometimes in a good way.
I once saw the world's fattest twins at a state fair. They were both married.
-Their wives were very skinny. -Maybe it was an optical illusion.
-Would you have dinner with me? -I thought you didn't date.
-I don't. It would be a non-date. -A non-date.
-Is that a yes? -Let's call it a non-no.
And it was then that the most freaky thing happened.
There in the middle of Manhattan...
...two complete strangers gave out their unlisted phone numbers.
Meanwhile, Samantha was about to have her own chance encounter.
-Look at you. You look amazing. -Don't I? It's the work.
I had the fat from my ass injected into my face. Look, like a baby's bottom.
-Unbelievable. -Isn't it? Fat from my own ass.
The best part is, you get to eat like a pig before, fatten up your ass...
...and then a week later it's in your face. Gotta go, bye.
An hour later, Samantha had her first Big Mac...
...and an appointment with the most expensive plastic surgeon on Upper Fifth.
Meanwhile, I had my own ass to be obsessed with and it belonged to Ben...
...an editor at a hip political magazine, who made me laugh.
This is me.
Then I guess this is goodnight.
Normally I'd try to get upstairs, but since this is a non-date....
So no kiss.
Maybe a non-kiss.
There was nothing ”non” about it.
A week and three non-dates later...
...Samantha summoned us to make an announcement.
You've got to be kidding.
It's sitting in a fat repository in Queens as we speak.
And in three days, it will be in my face and I will look fabulous.
I can't believe it.
We spend our life trying to hide the fat in our ass and you're putting it right on your face?
I just have to wear this girdle for a week to keep my skin tight.
Look at that.
That's a girdle with a hole.
Of course it has a hole. It's for peeing, etcetera.
Last night I slept with a Calvin Klein model. I've never felt sexier.
-I think the fat's already gone to your head. -Could you please put your skirt down?
-Whatever happened to aging gracefully? -It got old.
I got to go. I'm meeting Mitch at my apartment.
-So how is he? -He is amazing.
He makes me so happy. I think we have a real chance at a future together.
-You and Mr. Pussy. -His name is Mitchell.
Hang on, honey. You don't fall in love with Mr. Pussy.
You enjoy him and then set him free.
To Samantha, Charlotte had committed the ultimate sin.
She was Bogarting Mr. Pussy.
He's a freak! Aside from technique, what do you know about him?
-Do you talk? -Do you even fuck?
-Stop it. -Sweetie, Miranda has a point.
Have you guys had dinner together? Have you seen a play, anything?
No, but we could.
You know what? You've fallen into the sex haze.
Where the sex is really great and you start acting like a crazy person.
You imagine the relationship is something it's not.
Charlotte's not having a relationship, she's having multiple orgasms.
He makes me happy.
Hoping to prove Miranda wrong...
...I had convinced her to come out on a double non-date...
...with Ben’s friend, Luke.
Things were actually going remarkably well.
-Favorite ice cream? -Strawberry.
-I see, you're boring. -I like to see it as traditional.
Traditional? Traditional can be good.
Nothing makes you feel like more of a non-couple...
...than creating another non-couple.
Unfortunately, our smugness was a little premature.
-What are you doing this weekend? -Big plans.
I'm gonna go see my granddad in Connecticut.
-Connecticut? -What's wrong with Connecticut?
I hate the country. I haven't left Manhattan in 10 years.
-And you're proud of that? -Everything you want is right here.
Culture, food, the Park, cabs at 3:00 a.m. Why leave?
Perhaps to experience a world outside Manhattan.
There is no world outside Manhattan.
I'd unwittingly set Miranda up on a date with Manhattan Guy.
A genetically mutant strain of single men that fed on Zabar's...
...and midnight shows at the Angelica.
I like the city. I also happen to like the country. This does not make me a freak.
You're obviously not from here.
I have to go feed my cat.
Miranda had invoked our code phrase.
Honed over years of bad parties, awful dates and unending phone calls.
Unfortunately, I wasn't ready to accept defeat.
-I thought you already fed your cat. -I have to feed it again.
Cat people are freaks.
-Where are you going? -Home.
The man has not left Manhattan in a decade. He's obviously a freak.
And by the way, if Luke is a freak, Ben is bound to be a freak, too.
You can tell everything about a person by who their friends are.
God, I hope not.
That night, I couldn't get Miranda's freaky comment out of my head.
Is there anything weird about you I should know...
...before this gets any more compromising?
Now that you mention it, there is.
It's a souvenir from a drunken bachelor party a few years ago.
My friend's marriage didn't last, but Tweety Bird did.
So what about you?
-You're probably perfect? -No. Three stitches.
I got into a fight with a third-grade bully.
You're scrappy. I like scrappy.
And then The Amazing Tattooed Man made love to me.
And it didn't feel weird at all.
While Miranda was busy feeding her pussy...
...Charlotte was trying to do everything but.
Did you ever go to summer camp?
There, over the exotic-fruit plate...
...Charlotte tried to make a relationship happen.
I loved camp. I went to this place in Maine called Minihaha.
We used to play these big games of color war. I was always a Red.
It was so much fun.
And then they made us stop because they said that it glorified warfare.
You're awfully quiet tonight. What are you thinking about?
Charlotte realized Miranda was right. She had stayed too long at the fair.
From that moment on, Charlotte couldn't be in the same room with a fig.
Some people might call that a little odd.
Meanwhile, Samantha was about to get her own special showing.
I love it! What else can you do?
To Samantha, surgery was like being at Barneys.
Once you're in the door, you might as well shop.
We can always lift a little here. Take care of these lines.
Here....In five years we can augment the breasts.
Pick them up a little. In 10 years, tummy tuck.
Lipo. The hip and the thigh area.
Doctor, you're needed on the phone.
Samantha felt like she had walked into a fun house.
Only it wasn't particularly funny.
I'm late for my soccer game. Stay here. I'll be back in two hours.
It had happened. We had done it and now I really liked him.
I was deep into the sex haze and completely freaked out.
There had to be something sick and off about him.
If the rest of the species had devolved, Ben would have to be a freak to survive.
I had to find out what was wrong before I wasted the next six months.
It started innocently enough.
I just wanted to see what the guy ate...listened to...dated.
Then it took on a life of its own.
Somewhere in this hip, normal-looking apartment...
...was the clue to Ben’s inner freakiness.
And I wasn’t gonna rest until I found it.
There it was, taunting me. Ben’s secret box of freakdom.
Home of illicit photos, love letters, maybe an old marriage license.
What the hell are you doing?
I don't know. I can't explain it. I guess I was looking for something.
It's my Cub Scout badge collection.
I was gonna skip the game to be with you.
I thought you were actually a normal one.
I was. I'm gonna go.
That was the day I came face to face with my freak.
The frightening woman whose fear ate her sanity.
The truth is, it isn't just the men. It's all of us.
Anyone who's single in Manhattan gets a little freaked out from time to time.
But we keep trying, because you have to figure...
...if the world's fattest twins can find love, there's hope for all of us.
Somewhere out there is another little freak who will love us, understand us...
...and kiss our three heads and make it all better.
And in the meantime, we always have Manhattan.