Original subtitles

The island of Manhattan is a cozy village

populated by more than seven million fascinating individuals

who all behave like they own the sidewalk.

But lately, it seemed as if the entire city

had been magically reduced to only two people... us.

Four-hour conversations flew by in a space of 15 minutes,

and a few days apart felt like weeks.

I realized that Einstein's law of relativity

would have to be amended to include a special set of rules,

those to explain the peculiar effects of infatuation.

-Hello? Hi!

I'm trying to get hold of a Miss Carrie Bradshaw.

She used to be a friend of mine.

Ha. Good morning.

Wait, I think I recognize that voice.

God, I can't believe it's been so long.

I've been meaning to call you. I've just been--

Fucking your brains out?

Yeah, well, that's the least of it.

You know what? I don't think

that I have been hit this hard since...

No, you know what? I'm not gonna compare it to anything else

because everything else has always ended.

So will I actually get to see you sometime?

Yeah, absolutely. How about tonight?

Yeah, tonight'll work.

All right, so I'll call Charlotte and Samantha

and see if they're free, 'cause Big's got this dinner thing so,

we didn't have any plans anyway--

God, would you listen to yourself?

Yeah, I know.

I've become one of those women we hate.

Yes, you have.

I can't talk now. I'll call you later.

-Okay? -All right, bye.

As I hung up,

I realized I'd committed the cardinal sin...

I'd forsaken my girlfriends for my new boyfriend.

That night, I faced the tribunal.

We really weren't that concerned.

Just completely hurt and offended.

Actually, you missed a lot.

I know, I am trying to...

Miranda had worked on a big successful merger.

Samantha was obsessed with the idea of a new apartment.

And Charlotte,

Charlotte was practically engaged.

They met the day after I dropped off the edge of the earth.

His name was Michael Conway.

He was from a good New York family,

and he absolutely adored Charlotte.

I think this might be it.

I think this might be the one.

We've met him. He's perfect.

Even his fucking dog is perfect.

But... there is one thing.

Last night, after Michael took Charlotte to the Philharmonic,

they went back to his place

and began the classic dating ritual,

the blow job tug of war.

Oh, come on.

Not tonight.

When?

Mm... sometime.

The truth is, I hate doing it.

Honey, you can't be serious.

Are you telling us you never perform this act?

She'll juggle, she'll spin plates, but she won't give head.

I don't like putting it in my mouth.

I have a very sensitive gag reflex

and it makes me want to puke.

That's one way to say no.

It's not like I haven't tried. I practiced on a banana.

I pretended it was a Popsicle but...

I just don't like it.

Personally, I'm loving it,

up to the point where the guy wants me to swallow.

Well, that's just really a judgment call.

Some men just take it so personally if you don't.

Some guys don't give you a choice.

Well, that's just bad behavior.

Are you honestly telling me you like it?

Well, it's not my favorite thing on the menu,

but, you know, I'll order it from time to time,

and with the right guy,

it can be nice.

Oral sex is like God's gift to women.

You can get off without worrying about getting pregnant.

Plus the sense of power is such a turn-on.

Maybe you're on your knees, but you got him by the balls.

Now you see, that is the reason

that I don't want to go down this road.

Sweetheart, if you're gonna get all choked up about it...

Just don't do it, don't do it.

But if you don't go down on him,

how can you expect him to go down on you?

I don't.

Oh, well, forget it!

I only give head to get head.

Me, too.

A few hours and a couple of bottles of Pinot Grigio later,

vows of friendship renewed,

we were almost out the door when...

Hey, isn't that Mr. Big?

Yeah.

Oh, I'm gonna go over and say hi.

Ditching us now would be really bad form.

I'm not gonna ditch you.

Surprise.

Hey, Carrie!

-How are you? -Good, good.

I was just here with my posse having dinner,

and I saw you.

Oh, Carrie,

this is Julia Woods.

-Julia, Carrie Bradshaw. -Let's go.

Nice to meet you. Nice to meet you too.

Um, can I talk to you for a second?

Sure.

-Excuse me. Mm-hmm.

Are you on a date?

Sort of.

I thought you said you had a business thing tonight.

I said "a dinner thing."

Well, she's stunning,

and I should know because frankly, she stunned me.

Well, enjoy your dinner.

Are you okay?

Oh, sure, sure, I was just, you know,

I just didn't realize you were dating other women.

-Well, not a lot of other women. -Oh.

Why don't we talk about this Saturday?

Sure, sure, sure.

So, um, then, enjoy your dinner.

Oh, already said that, well, enjoy it twice.

All right, here we go.

I can't believe it. He's seeing other women.

Prick.

True, we had never discussed exclusivity.

But while for me the idea of seeing another man

would be like trying to fit another outfit

into an already overstuffed suitcase,

Big was happily dating another woman

like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Is it that men have an innate aversion to monogamy,

or is it more than that?

I wondered.

In a city like New York,

with its infinite possibilities,

has monogamy become too much to expect?

I've been involved in a monogamous relationship

for over a year now.

It's been wonderfully fulfilling.

Of course, my definition of monogamy

includes sex with prostitutes.

The problem with monogamy,

it's just so incredibly dull.

My lover and I have a kind of '90s monogamy.

We have sex with other people,

but we don't exchange fluids or phone numbers.

Hello.

Monogamy is fabulous.

It gives you a deep and profound connection to another human being

and you don't have to shave your legs as much.

Of course, I'm monogamous.

Why, what have you heard?

This is the C-line.

This is the best in the building.

Have you ever seen any place like this?

Is this to die?

It's nice.

Hold this.

Just a second.

Excuse me.

Excuse me, was someone looking for a view?

Oh, Pamela, it's beautiful,

but it's a little out of my price--

I know, I know, so sue me.

I just love to show the crème de la crème.

I will break my ass for you, sweetheart.

I just want to ask you for one small favor in return.

My first born?

No, sweetheart, I don't even want my own kids.

Promise me that you won't work with any other broker.

Of course!

Samantha didn't believe in monogamy,

especially when it came to real estate agents.

This is a pre-war six.

Notice the classic lines.

Very solidly built.

Although Pamela had the hottest contacts in town,

Rick did have a slight competitive edge.

He gave Samantha the opportunity

to combine her two greatest loves,

sex and real estate.

That afternoon, I dragged my poor tortured soul

out to lunch with Stanford Blatch,

and attempted to stun it senseless with Cosmopolitans.

Here you go.

Monogamy is on the way out again.

It had a brief comeback in the '90s,

but as the millennium approaches,

everyone's leaving their options open.

Come on, you wouldn't commit to a nice guy given the option?

I can't even commit to a long-distance carrier.

You know what you are? You're a whore.

I wish that were true.

Hey, Stanford.

Hey, Jared, how are you?

My book just got a kick-ass review in Entertainment Weekly .

How marvelous.

Oh, Jared, have you met Carrie Bradshaw?

No, but I've read your column.

-Nice shit. Thanks.

You should write about me sometime.

My life is so fucked up right now.

Oh, Carrie,

Jared is the writer of the book Avenue B ,

and New York Magazine just named him

one of the 30 coolest people under 30 in the city.

Wow, what an honor.

You know, if they were doing the 30 sexiest women under 30,

I'm sure you'd go right to the top of the list.

You're quite the storyteller, aren't you?

That's no lie.

The magazine's throwing us a party tomorrow night at Luna.

I'll be sure and put your names at the door.

Oh, thanks.

So you'll be there?

I'll do my best.

Groovy.

Ciao.

What was happening to me?

I used to get a secret rush from men who hit on me

during their 15 minutes of fame.

In this case, it merely felt exhausting.

Hello.

Well, hello.

Oh, hi.

I'm just calling to confirm tomorrow night.

Are we still on?

Yeah, of course, we are. Why wouldn't we be?

I was striving for noncommittal,

but I was worried I had just bordered on shrill.

I'll pick you up at 8:00.

Um, yeah, 8:00's fine.

I miss you, baby.

Yeah, me too.

There were so many questions I wanted him to answer,

but would not ask.

Not tonight at least.

No, tonight, I would ask Miranda.

He said, "I miss you, baby."

Do you think that was meant to be some kind of coded mea culpa?

You mean like what he really meant was,

"I've been a complete idiot, please forgive me

for having dinner with that other woman"?

-Yeah, exactly. -Could be.

Well, no, because that would mean that everything that he ever said

that I interpreted as sincere is subject to interpretation.

In that case, what I perceive as his feelings for me

may only really be reflected projections of my feelings for him.

What?

Oh, God, I'm freaking. I gotta stop.

Gotta stop.

Hey, Carrie!

Oh! Hey!

Hey, you guys, great to see you.

What are you up to?

Um, just hanging.

Oh, hey, Alison, this is Miranda and Carrie.

Miranda and Carrie, this is Alison.

-Hello. -Hi. Nice to meet you.

-I've heard so much about you. -Oh, me too.

We're all such big fans of your column over at Vogue .

You work at Vogue ?

Yeah, designer relations.

Skipper and I just had the most incredible meal.

Oh, it's this little hole in the wall.

This darling French bistro, that I am telling you,

I lived a year in Paris and never ate so well,

-and cheap. -Really?

Go quick before The Times destroys it with a rave.

Okay.

Anyway, it's great to see you guys.

Yeah, great meeting you.

-You too. -Good night.

Bye!

Who was that self-important bitch?

I think that was Skipper's new girlfriend.

Well, she seemed all right.

I didn't think that was his type.

Well, that's true, Miranda. You're his type.

But you broke up with him, remember?

Something looks different.

Has he been working out?

Hey, Skipper here. Leave me a message.

Hi, Skipper. It's Miranda.

Um, I just wanted to say it was great running into you today,

and, uh...

you looked great.

Did you do something different to your hair?

Hello? Miranda.

Hey, I can't talk right now.

That's okay.

I just wanted to say maybe, you know,

I thought we could have dinner some night.

Seriously?

Yeah, I miss you.

I'll call you later.

Is everything okay?

Uh, Alison, um, I think you're great,

and, uh...

But I've gotta be totally honest with you.

The woman who I think I love just called

and asked me back.

You're breaking up with me while you're still inside of me?

As Skipper rededicated his singular affection for Miranda,

Charlotte was receiving her own declaration of monogamy.

What do you think about

not seeing anyone else but each other?

Really?

Yeah.

That might be a good idea.

I think it's the best idea I've ever had in my life.

Well, in that case, absolutely.

And while Charlotte embraced fidelity,

and Samantha flaunted her infidelity...

I found myself caught somewhere in between.

So who's very crowded apartment are we in?

Max. He's an old friend of mine.

And remember, Becky is his second wife.

She's a doll. You'll love her.

Hey, there, stranger.

Melissa.

This is Carrie Bradshaw.

Hi, love your column. Never miss it.

-Oh, wow, thanks. -I've been trying to call you.

-Ah, yeah, you know-- -You still have my passport.

She's a friend I once traveled with.

Internationally, I would imagine.

-Let's find Max. -Mm-hmm.

Hey, Max!

Excuse me. Hey! Excuse me.

-Hey. -Glad you could make it.

Max, I want you to meet someone very special.

Julia.

Actually, it's Carrie.

Carrie! Well, welcome.

Carrie writes this fantastic column in The New York Star .

It's called "Sex and the City."

Well, if you're looking for material, you're dating the right man.

Uh, thank you, Max. Thank you very much.

Are we dating?

I thought we were just sleeping together.

Oh, well, I'm sure after tonight,

we won't be doing much of either.

Excuse me.

I'll be right back.

Carrie.

Carrie.

You've got to be kidding.

How many women are you dating?

In the tristate area?

Well, let's see, there's me, um, Julia.

Oh, and let's not forget international Melissa.

Carrie, I'm not doing this here.

Fine.

Can we just enjoy the party?

I don't know.

Come on, I mean, what do you want from me?

What do I want from you?

Nothing.

I don't want anything from you.

I have to go, I'm sorry.

I felt like a fool.

I had gone so far out

on a limb with my feelings

that I didn't realize I was standing out there alone.

When life gets this confusing,

sometimes there's only one thing to do,

attend a fabulous party.

Hey, Stanford.

Carrie! What a surprise!

-Where's, um-- -Oh, don't ask.

What happened?

He became predictable.

How predictable?

Hey, you made it.

Hey, Jared.

I'll get you a drink.

Cosmopolitan. Thanks.

In a room where everyone was gorgeous, cool, and under 30,

monogamy suddenly began to seem like a quaint notion.

God, that was like so great.

Mm-hmm.

Don't you just want to lie like this forever?

Well, for a few minutes anyway.

I missed you.

And I want you to know that that other woman

doesn't mean a thing to me.

Oh, that's all right.

I don't mind if you keep seeing her.

Oh, God, no.

I broke up with her the second that you called.

Skipper, you didn't have to do that.

Of course, I did.

I was so happy to hear from you

that we were still doing it while I was talking to you

and I didn't even realize it.

You're kidding, right?

No. Isn't that crazy?

Yeah, that's exactly what it is, crazy.

Listen, Skipper,

I'm not ready for a full-blown relationship thing.

What?

I mean, we can see each other

and still see other people, right?

No, no, we can't.

At least, I can't.

Why did you call me back anyway?

I'm-- I'm sorry, I thought...

I-- I'm not your private stud horse, you know.

Miss dial-a-fuck.

-Come here. -You know...

Come back.

I'm tired of being jerked around.

I hope you find what you're looking for.

While Miranda misjudged the intensity of Skipper's feelings,

Michael left Charlotte no doubt about his.

You're amazing.

You've got everything I'm looking for,

and I've never found before in one woman.

Brains, taste, class...

And you're very, very, sexy.

Thank you.

What's the problem?

I hate doing it.

You hate giving blow jobs?

It's not that big of a deal, is it?

Well, sort of.

Can't you just do it for me?

Would you really want me to do something that I didn't want to do?

You'll get used to it.

No, I won't.

I never have. Sorry.

Well, I plan on getting a lot of blow jobs in the future,

and I'm hoping that you're around when I get them.

What's that supposed to mean?

It means I'll have to find them somewhere else.

You're telling me

that you would give up a woman who really cares for you,

who would share your hopes and your fears,

and your dreams,

the future possible mother of your children,

all for a blow job?

You're right.

Will you at least lick my balls?

Goodbye, Michael.

Michael was upset, but Butterscotch seemed pleased.

She was finally back in her monogamous relationship.

Half past midnight in a city that never sleeps,

neither did the real estate market.

It's beautiful.

Isn't it?

It went on the market at midnight

and you're the first one to see it.

Two bedrooms, pre-war,

fireplace and views.

Everything you wanted.

I love it. I really love it.

I knew you would.

Let's celebrate.

Oh, my God.

I can't believe that you are working with another broker.

I can't believe you weren't gonna show me this apartment.

2:00 a.m. and I already had a new man in my life.

You know, the greatest thing about writing a successful book,

besides the validation, the acclaim,

is knowing that I'm pumping my ideas into the world.

I thought it was the fact that you could behave like an utter asshole

and people would find you amusing.

I'm like in love with you. You know that?

I'm like fucking in love with you.

Will you go home with me tonight?

Give me a minute. I just have to make a call.

Hello.

I just wanted to let you know

that I'm at this very cool party

for very cool people under 30

and this very cool novelist wants to take me home.

What? What the hell happened to you?

His name is Jared.

He's really cute, and really successful,

and he just put his arms around me.

Here, say hello, Jared.

Hello, Jared.

That was Jared.

Carrie, just get over here.

No, you get over here.

I can't. I don't know where you are.

I'm at the Luna Park Cafe. Just meet me out front.

Your name's not on the list.

Forty-five minutes later,

I realized I was alone in a park at 3:00 a.m.

And that it was time to call it a night.

What are you doing back here? You said to meet out front.

This is the front.

This isn't the front. This is the back.

I've been waiting out front for 30 goddamn minutes.

You see those doors? That's the front.

You were waiting at the street entrance.

The street entrance is the front entrance.

Depending on where you're coming from.

Okay.

I'm here. Now, what's going on?

I've done the merry-go-round.

I've been through the revolving door.

I feel like I met somebody

I can stand still with for a minute and...

Don't you want to stand still with me?

You dragged me out to a park at 3:00 in the morning

to ask me if I want to stand still with you?

Yes.

In a city of infinite options,

sometimes there's no better feeling

than knowing you only have one.