This Sex and the City movie is everywhere I go. I took some time the other day for catharsis: I wrote notes to each of the characters on why we’d never be good together and hashing out my general gripes:
Dear Carrie:
Honestly, what are you thinking sometimes when you walk out of your apartment? The obnoxious outfits you wear make you look pretentious and slutty. I don’t even think I can get past these outfits to even speak to you. You wonder why you have so much trouble with men—some of it must have to do with your addiction to ugly clothes. One look at you and I immediately realize that I could never be with you even if I could deal with the getups. Sorry, but I’m a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy...you should try wearing something that simple and classy some time.
Dear Miranda:
I can immediately tell that you wouldn’t put up with my crap. I like to go watch football on Sundays with the guys and sometimes (well most of the time) I’m so lazy I can’t even use my brain cells to figure out a way to reach the remote if it’s outside of my weekend ring (the five foot radius around me that I’m willing to reach to during my weekend). You seem like you would want me to go to expensive dinners and museums all weekend. You also seem like you would not like to put up with anything that came out of my mouth, most of which I can’t control. Get a sense of humor, then we can talk.
Dear Samantha:
You are disgusting.
Dear Charlotte:
You have so much potential. I think you’re adorable and sweet. When you wreck up, I think it’s cute. When you succeed, I’m happy for you. It’s so hard for me to find a girl who has everything I’m looking for but you are it. You are innocent, but sometimes you say you just want to “get fucked”. And you mix in that little spice perfectly with your entire package. So only one problem here: I HATE YOUR FRIENDS! It’s a shame that you got caught up with them. We could have been something, you and me.
Regards,
Rich
