Sex and the City Season 2 Episode 8

208. The Man, The Myth, The Vigra

Once upon a second time around... a mythical land between Carmine and Mulberry streets...
...two mere mortals were having a wonderful time.
This is the gangster I was telling you about.
Gangster? No. No gangster.
Come, this way.
Carrie. This is Paolo.
This is my girlfriend, Carrie.
You've never called me your girlfriend before.
Sure, I have. Just not to your face.
And now you wise guy, come on, it's your turn.
-Come on, come on. -Me? Okay.
-Not funny, Mr. Sambuca. -Relax, I'm a regular.
A regular?
I'd like to dedicate this song to the lovely lady sitting right over there.
“When I was 17
“It was a very good year
“It was a very good year
“For small town girls and soft summer nights
“We'd hide from the lights
“In the village green
“When I was 17”
It was perfect. I felt like I was in heaven.
Meanwhile across town, Miranda was in hell...
Douche products....
...or its modern day equivalent: the comedy club.
-Are we having fun yet? -When does the comedy start?
I've never been this close to suicide.
Not pussy....
-I'll get the check. -If you ditch me in this place, I will hunt you down and kill you.
Alan Miller was a divorced architect she met in aisle three at the Food Emporium.
They immediately bonded over a shared hatred of designer croutons.
If all I was interested in was freshness...
...then I would be fucking my salad crisper!
Yo, Red. You wanna answer your fuckin' phone?
It's not my phone.
Go ahead. Answer it.
Answer it!
Alan Miller's phone.
No, this is his date. Who's this?
Who is it?
I'm sorry, his date can't speak right now. Whom may I say is calling? His wife!
Numb-nuts, your wife's on the phone.
You told me you were divorced.
I'm not really divorced. I'm really separated.
No, we're really separated. See, this is me, separating.
Red, not so fast. I'll fuck you.
Honey...If they're not married, they're gay, or burned from a divorce...
...or aliens from the planet “Don’t date me.”
It's amazing how many of them walk among us now.
Only recognizable by their slightly larger heads.
I asked him, point blank: “How long have you been divorced?”
“Three years.” Just like that. “Three years.” Guys are such liars.
97 percent of them can't fuck you worth a damn!
He tells me how much he likes me, and boom, I believe him.
-Am I that needy? -Maybe he really did like you.
I swear, if you “Pollyanna-out” on me today, I'll have to hit you with this rice pudding.
This married man fell madly in love with my friend, Amanda's friend, Ashley...
...and he said he would get a divorce and he did.
They got married, moved to Connecticut and he is this amazing husband and father.
-Never happened. -Excuse me?
Urban relationship myth.
Unbelievable fairy tales concocted by women to make their love lives seem less hopeless.
Except it makes you feel even more hopeless...
...because this fabulous, magical relationship is never happening to you.
It did happen.
Like the one about the guy who couldn't commit...
...and the woman broke up with him and moved to Kansas.
-One night, she comes walking home-- -In the rain!
AIways, in the rain.
He stands there in front of her door with an engagement ring.
He says, “Marry me,” and they live happily ever after.
But, it can happen. People do live happily ever after.
It happened to my friend, Amanda's friend.
It's always a friend who knows a friend....
Honey. have you actually ever known anyone whose relationship changed magically overnight?
Yes. Look at Carrie and Big. Their relationship is totally different than used to be.
How? Tell me. How is it different?
It just is. I can't explain it. Actually I can, but you're so scary right now, I won't.
No, really, tell me.
It's just a feeling. Something shifted like....
Maybe we both know that...if we came together again it must be for a reason.
Why is that so hard to believe?
How much time have you got?
That afternoon, I got to thinking about myths and relationships.
Heroes, boyfriends, Cyclopses, divorced guys.
Are they really that different?
The primitive Greeks clung desperately to myths... explain the random hopelessness of their miserable lives.
Do modern day singles need modern day myths...
...just to help us get through our random and sometimes miserable relationships?
What about Big and me?
After what seemed like an eternity of not quite fitting together, we suddenly fit.
Had the relationship God smiled?
Or was that something I desperately needed to believe?
Are we willing to believe anything to date?
While Samantha had little belief in the idea of happily ever after...
...she had a strong belief in the idea of a smart cocktail at the end of the work day.
Samantha, a Cosmopolitan and Donald Trump.
You don't get more New York than that.
I gotta go. Think about it. I'll be at my office at Trump Tower.
Excuse me. I was so distracted by your beauty...
...I think I just agreed to finance Mr. Trump's new project.
You owe me 150 million dollars.
Will you take a check?
May I buy you a drink?
I already have one, thanks.
Can I buy you an island?
-I don't know, can you? -The name's Ed.
So, Samantha, do you come here often?
Honey, that line's older than you are.
You are a pistol.
You have no idea.
A bottle of their best champagne later, Samantha had learned that Ed was single, available...
...and a millionaire many, many times over.
What's your age ceiling with men?
Factor in millions and millions of dollars.
Well, I just met the cutest older man.
How old, fifty? Sixty?
-Is he on Medicare? -I'm guessing 72. A young 72.
Your silence reeks of ageism.
-Are you serious? -He took me to dinner at Jean Georges.
We got right in, no reservation needed.
I wasn't aware that Jean Georges had an early bird special.
He's vibrant and powerful and generous.
He's just looking for someone to have a little fun with.
Would that include bedroom fun?
We haven't discussed it yet.
Are you telling me that you are seriously capable of having sex with a senior?
You know the saying: “All cats look the same in the dark.”
It was pure urban legend.
Alligators in the sewer, pets in the microwave, and now an old man and Samantha.
Is this a piece of veal or is this a piece of veal?
That is a piece of veal.
In every myth, there comes a point when the mere mortals are given a test.
The way they respond usually determines whether they find paradise...
...or are tied to a big rock for all eternity.
I have a huge request. I want you to know my friends better.
I know your friends fine.
Charlotte is the brunette. Miranda is the redhead. And Samantha is trouble.
I want them to know you better.
They've never really spent time with you...and you're so funny and cute.
What is it you need?
I want us all to have dinner Saturday night at Denial.
Denial was a very popular Manhattan hot spot.
Apparently, everyone in Manhattan wanted to be in “Denial.”
Why are you suddenly so--
-Cute? -Yes. Why are you so cute?
Where are you? I've been waiting here forever.
Didn't you get the message I left on your machine an hour ago?
No, I didn’t call home. Is everything all right? I thought you were dead or something.
I'm fine. I'm at Big's.
You're at Big's? You and I are having dinner tonight.
Well, he got this veal.
You blew me off for a piece of politically incorrect meat?
Well, he wanted to make me dinner.
You just dropped your life and ran right on over to his?
I can't get into that right now.
You know what? Your relationship is exactly the same as always. It's all about him.
Could you put Miranda on, please?
Enjoy your veal.
-Problem? -No.
I'll have another glass of wine.
Please what?
I'll have another glass of wine, please.
Are you allowed to talk to me like that?
Yes, I think I am. Enjoy.
Thank you.
Steve, thank you, Steve.
That's really very cute but I'm not really in the mood.
I'm not really in the mood, Steve.
I'm not a total bitch, I just had a fight with somebody.
I heard. Boyfriend?
None of your business.
Girlfriend? Butcher.
-Butcher? -The veal. I took a shot.
What are you reading? The Joy of Bartending, Hemingway.
So, what, you're funny?
Slow down, that's a nice Cotes du Rhone. Enjoy.
That’s on me.
Why would that be?
A bribe, so, you'll hang out and talk.
If you leave, I'll have to listen to those NYU kids...
...with the Amstel Lights discuss Fiona Apple.
I'm begging you.
They did a little more than talk.
After work they went back to her place where Steve, the bartender...
...served Miranda two orgasms, straight up.
So...that was really special.
Sure. Is that your shirt over there?
Can I get your phone number?
To call you up and ask you for a date.
Steve. Look, Steve.
You don't have to do this. You don't have to make believe you're gonna call.
Let's just call this what this was: a one-night stand.
You're a real pisser. Stop by the bar, see me sometime.
Sure, okay. Whatever. Thanks. Bye. Great sex.
Three dinners and two extravagant lunches later, Ed invited Samantha over to his townhouse.
Up until now, she would never have believed she would consider a relationship with an older man.
Bu there was something about Ed.
How did that get there?
I wonder if....
Ed, no.
After an impressive six-course dinner, Ed put the moves on Samantha.
Ed's moves were from a different dating time...moves she had heard of or seen in old movies...
...but moves she never thought she'd experience firsthand.
I used to groove with these cats in Cuba.
What's the matter? Can't afford the light bill?
You're fun. A toast to fun.
What the hell! I'm gonna lay my cards on the table.
-I've only got a handful of good years left. -No--
10 to 12, tops. I'm looking for someone to have some fun with.
I'm aware that a gorgeous woman like you can get any young man you want.
I'm willing to make it worth your wild.
And speaking of wild...don't worry. I got a big, old pocketful of Viagra.
Why, Ed. That's not Viagra.
Samantha was suddenly living her own urban relationship myth.
The woman who stopped for a cocktail after work and lived happily ever after.
For 10 to 12 years, tops.
I think in the dark is sexier. Could you get that light behind you?
In the dark, she learned that all cats not only look the same but felt the same.
Ed's lips were not the lips of an older man.
Ed's touch was not the touch of an older man.
Excuse me, baby. Little boy's room.
Unfortunately Ed's ass was the ass of an older man.
She told him it was a bad reaction to the shellfish from dinner.
Saturday afternoon, Miranda was at home...
...enjoying a cup of coffee and her New York Times...when fate came knocking.
It's Steve.
Steve who?
Steve Brady, the bartender.
What do you want?
You want your neighbors to hear?
-Thanks for letting me in. -Did you forget something the other night?
No, I didn't have your number and I wanted to tell you something. I like you.
Translation: “I think you're an easy lay and I'd like to have sex again.”
It's not like that. Have dinner with me.
I don't know, because we're hungry.
I can't have dinner with you. I don't even know you.
-You slept with me. -It's a different thing.
-How about tonight? -I have plans.
-You don't have plans. -I have plans.
What plans? Quick, before you make one up.
I'm meeting my friends downtown at Denial for dinner.
-My buddy works over there. I'll meet you for a drink. What time? -7:00.
-Okay. What time are you really meeting them? -9:00.
At 8:15, I arrived at Big's.
One quick drink and we'd be out the door.
I told myself all day it was just another dinner with friends.
But, as I stood waiting, in my new very favorite dress, I realized it meant a lot more.
Hi, baby, c'mon in.
You're not properly attired to meet my friends, mister. Now, hop to it.
About that....Do you mind if I don't go?
I've been out all day, it's gonna rain.
But my friends are expecting you.
I know, but they're your friends and...they'll be fine with just you. Is it okay?
I was afraid if I looked up into his eyes...I'd turn to stone.
How could I have let myself believe things would be different the second time around?
I'd never heard of a myth in which a self-centered, 42-year-old baby...
...magically transformed into a grown man that you could bring out in public.
They won't seat us ’til all of our party is here.
How long do you think Big will be?
I'm not sure, he's coming from work.
I didn't have the strength to tell them about my fallen hero.
At least not without a cocktail.
I figured as long as I was in “Denial,” I might as well stay there.
Look at you.
If you want good service, send a bartender.
If you want a good fuck, go home with one.
Hello! It was funny!
Can I talk to you over there, for a second?
The gods are punishing me for having casual sex.
Thank you. One quick question and I'm out of here.
Why do you hate guys so much?
Excuse me?
We just met, so I know that it ain't all about me. Wait.
What do you want?
I just wanna get to know you better. Do me a favor.
Can you, for one second, believe that maybe I'm not some “full-of-shit” guy?
That maybe I do like you? That maybe the other night was special?
-Do you think maybe you can believe that? -No. Maybe I've just slept with too many bartenders.
Are you okay?
I don't wanna talk about it.
Nice meeting you all, excuse me.
-Maybe we should get a table for four. -I knew it. Big's not coming. Men are shit.
What are you talking about? He's coming, isn't he?
I didn't know if I had the heart to tell Charlotte that “happily ever after...” really was just a myth.
See, there he is!
It's really coming down out there.
-You remember my friends? -Of course, I do. Hello, Ladies.
Seeing Big show up for me like that...
...shook Miranda's lack of belief system to the very core.
Excuse me.
More drinks?
Just like that, Miranda left Denial.
Steve! Maybe I can believe it.
From that night on, promiscuous women everywhere...
...would tell the tale of the one-night stand that turned into a relationship.
As for Big and me....
So, Samantha. tell me. Did you ever get it on with that old coot?
That was the night we stopped being a myth and started becoming real.


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