Get out of my head Carrie Bradshaw!

Ever since Sex and the City came onto Netflix, my stream of consciousness has become possessed by the voice of Carrie Bradshaw. Bestowed upon me is an unhealthy obsession with her and I am not exaggerating when I say that I believe that everything she says should be carved in stone and read as gospel. As well as being a fashion icon and meeting the criteria of an ‘IT Girl’ to an enviable degree, everything she says is so satisfyingly relatable. Even for those who aren’t living the life of a glamorous socialite in New York, her experiences as a single 30-something year-old woman resonate with straight women everywhere. In fact, in the first few episodes alone, she has described the exact situation that I had been in just minutes before with my situationship – (I use this term both loosely and generously). Said situation proudly stated, with the air of someone who had achieved something truly great, that he had not slept with anyone else since we started getting together about two weeks ago. This prompted me to frostily reply with “would you like a medal for that?”. To combat the silence that followed, I put Sex and the City on - big mistake. The episode about non-monogamy started playing, as if it had heard our conversation. The non-sexual tension grew as Carrie Bradshaw spoke about men’s aversion to commitment. It was so directly relevant to our recent conversation that she might as well have been replying to him. Those times when she breaks the fourth wall made this even more acute. She was observing the strange and simple creatures that men are. She talked frankly about their primitive attitude towards sex, the high pedestal they place it on and the incongruence between their own desires and monogamy. Throughout Carrie’s spiel, the situationship and I had our eyes fixated on the screen and our breaths held as we waited for her incredibly shrewd and terrifyingly accurate analysis to pass. Alas, her observations continued to hit very close to home and it got to the point where we both had to start nervously laughing as she was basically paraphrasing the conversation that had occured between us just moments before. A stark parallel was when he asked me if I wanted to go for an ambiguous drink ‘thing,’ just as Mr Big did to Carrie. The crucially less romantic factor which distinguishes Carrie’s story from mine is that I was asked for this ‘drink thing’ in response to me asking if I should pay him back (for money that I owed him) via Monzo or Revolut. He replied with the not so sweeping-me-off-my-feet and totally unironic question of me paying for a date instead. If he did this with the intention of being smooth, it had the opposite effect and left me feeling like an underage sugar mummy. I said no to the ‘drink thing’ and resorted to the solution of giving him the cash instead. It felt aptly transactional.

Something which continues to amaze me is the self-assurance and inflated ego which bizarrely accompanies so many men; the unwanted buy-one-get-two free package. I am left wondering who on earth warrants this, especially for those men who wear open-toed flip-flops, slim grey tracksuits and a woman’s navy knitted jumper from H&M (yes - all at the same time). I am not describing this look from my imagination; it is sitting opposite me right now.

Having read this back, even I feel confused – why would I not just end it? The guy I have described has zero redeemable qualities and, if I were to ascribe an adjective to him, ‘unremarkable’ would be one of the more complimentary ones which spring to mind. As well as there being some more complicated factors which are too dull to divulge, I admit that I have surrendered to a temporary lapse in standards in return for a dose of sub-par male validation. Before this current bump in the road (minus a couple of toe-curling hiccups along the way), I prided myself on having relatively high standards. However, my current circumstances have presented me with a chance to entertain these flirtations with no consequences following the 25th May, when he will be in Australia and me back in England. I have decided to not break it off and instead view it as a kind of lesser of two evils, the other evil being celibacy (which I need to give some space as we are quite well-acquainted). I am viewing it as a wrong person, right time and place kind of scenario. When I get back to normality, I won’t settle for the settling life as the dose of attention does not counteract the sight of the flip-flop, grey tracksuit and navy H&M jumper-wearing creature, not to mention the more sinister icks which come with it. I have also resolved to only watch Sex and the City in private, without the provider of its content present, so that I can breathe normally and watch it with my eyes at normal wideness.