Miranda and Steve have found their way back to each other and are enjoying life. Over a couple of cheap beers they talk about the future, what they want, what they don’t want. And during this easy bliss, Miranda asks Steve to marry her. The guy is crazy about her. Always has been. Of course he says yes. The ladies are horrified when she tells them. A woman propose!? Preposterous. By the end of lunch however they’re all in tears and Miranda is mad. She doesn’t want a whole production, no white dress, and definitely no church, but she does want to say her vows in front of friends and family. She and Steve are carrying groceries home when they find the perfect place, a beautiful (and small) community garden.
Carrie is spending more time with Aleksandr (always in his home) and trying to enjoy the splendor. She lounges while he plays piano for her, a song he wrote. “La femme avec les yeux lumineux.” He feeds her berries with cream. He even reads her poetry. And all of it makes her sort of uncomfortable. She can’t really relax in her seat while he reads to her and when he asks if she liked the poem she makes a joke of it, reading a passage in Vogue about Oscar de la Renta and calling that poetry.
Charlotte, a true romantic, thinks everything Aleksandr is doing is perfection. She even tells Harry all about it. Harry, not one to be outdone, decides to take Charlotte out to dinner at an incredibly romantic French restaurant. He orders in French. She’s impressed with his French. And when they’re back home after dinner, their stomachs start speaking a French of their own. All the delicacies, cream, and fromage don’t agree with their stomachs. These lovebirds spend the night blowing out the bathroom. After all, they did vow in sickness and in health.
After seeing herself photographed with Smith, Samantha is looking to revamp her image. The problem with every picture is that her boobs look so small. So she spends her night, along with the worst men in Manhattan, shopping for new breasts. She finds a plastic surgeon and even has reference photos, but the doctor has also found something, a small lump he wants her to get checked out. On the way to Miranda’s wedding, during the wedding, and after the wedding, Samantha tells the ladies her news. She has breast cancer.
Carrie’s admiration of Oscar de la Renta doesn’t go unrewarded. Aleksandr takes her to the opera and has the very dress from the magazine for her. Before they enter The Met, they dance together and then, out of nowhere, Carrie faints. Apparently all the romancing is too much. And she can’t help but wonder, “Have we become romance intolerant?”
Season 6 Episode 14: The Ick Factor
My favorite book as a child was The Wedding of Mistress Fox. It’s a tale of a young, widowed fox who searches for a new husband. Many suitors from the village come to court her, but none fit the bill. Then a handsome fox appears at her door and quick as a whip, they’re happily married. The movies I loved as a child followed a similar premise. Boy and girl meet, fall in love, happily ever after. As I grew up, the books I read became more mature, as did the movies, but the plot stayed the same.
I’ve watched and imagined romance my entire life and I’m not alone in that. TikTok is changing the landscape of publishing from the thousands of romance book recommendations. There’s a bookstore here in Brooklyn dedicated to only romance books. They’re fun and usually pretty quick reads and it’s so easy to get lost in the story of people falling in love. My girlfriends and I have swapped books and talked about all the juicy bits, giggling all the while. “Give me someone like that.”
Portia and I have had so many discussions about romance books and we feel similarly about one particular trope: miscommunication. It’s so frustrating to get through and a cheap way to create conflict. Because why can’t they just say what they’re thinking and feeling? It’s just not for me. It happens in movies too. How many times have I watched a scene with one character saying, “Please, you don’t understand,” and they go on not explaining themselves? Save your breath. Just say what you have to say. Which is easier said than done (I should know) but this is fiction!
Mitch and I walked around in the snow the other day, talking about life. They were talking about hoeing around and hooking up with new people. Their dedication to the craft is inspiring. “I want to be a slut.” I somberly replied, “I want to be loved and adored.” Obviously we had a laugh about it because sometimes being honest is so sad and so funny. But all that’s to say, we all want different things. My idea of romance is not the same as Mitch’s. We can watch a movie together and one of us can be scoffing at it all, while the other is completely entranced.
Carrie and Charlotte are perfect examples. Carrie is nearly wincing at everything Aleksandr does. He’s being so earnest and doing what is authentic to him, but Carrie is so uncomfortable. She’s cracking jokes and doing her best to seem entertained. And when Charlotte hears about all the romantic gestures, she’s absolutely gushing. Nearly jumping out of her seat for more details. Charlotte is someone who has always known what she wants. She knows how she wants to be loved. And she had incredibly high standards which the other ladies have given her shit about, but now she has a husband who would do anything for her.
After Carrie faints outside The Met, she tells Aleksandr that it’s all too much. (Like fainting isn’t.) Her reasoning? She’s American. So he takes her to McDonalds and they share a burger and fries. But what she’s saying is his way of loving is not how she wants to be loved. The bigger problem here is that Carrie has never known how she wants to be loved. Every significant boyfriend had their own way of showing affection and none of them suited Carrie. Big was aloof and withholding. Aidan doted on her, but wanted to change her at her core. Berger was too insecure to really give her affection. And now Aleksandr is too much.
If she took the time to examine her relationships and herself, maybe by now she’d know what she wants. But all she knows is what she doesn’t want. And she doesn’t really have the words to describe that either. I find myself in a difficult predicament where I am getting what I want, but not everything I want. I have a boyfriend who cares about me and treats me so well. He listens and he’s understanding. He’s been to therapy for christ sake! And yet I feel such melancholy when I think about us because it’s not real. I’m living an unbalanced, unfulfilled fantasy. And he lives a completely separate reality with his wife.
I tend to romanticize my melancholy. I feel it has to mean something. All day long my thoughts are at war with themselves, but they always come back to the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. And the conversation in Portrait of a Lady on Fire about the young lovers. Did Orpheus look back to her because he doubted himself? Because he feared she would not actually follow? Or did he make the choice to look and let go? I have always related myself to Eurydice, someone who asks their love to hold on, to stay. But these days I’m asking myself if I can let go. Because is that not the most romantic thing I can do for myself? I want to feel like I matter to someone and maybe by letting go I’ll prove that I matter to me. Perhaps I can be the master of my own fate.
I could learn a lesson or two from Mistress Fox. She refuses so many suitors even though they can offer her a wonderful life because they don’t have what she’s looking for. She understands her worth and she recognizes her power. I can have power in my life. I can decide. I’ve allowed John to take the lead in this relationship and show me the limits of his situation. I said it when we first started dating, “I’m a person who always wants more.” I think I owe it to myself to stand in my power and see who meets me where I am.