the politics of the situationship
or: An Analysis of Television’s Greatest Love Affair—and Why You Should Choose Your Aidan
I’m rewatching Sex and the City (as one does) and I’m finally realizing how much these women kind of suck.
I know Carrie writes a sex column and her relationships are her thing, but damn, does this bitch have a hobby that’s not Mr. Big or smoking? Like does she do Pilates? Does she read a book? Does she have a plant? A cause? Anything? The second time she breaks up with Big after he leaves for Paris, she spends weeks shit-talking him to her friends until they finally tell her to shut the hell up. Carrie thinks he’s so boring and so old and he has to be himself and she gets to be her and blah, blah, blah. The conversation was very reminiscent of a conversation I would have now with my friends at 23.
The most embarrassing scene in the second season is the finale when she catches Big after his engagement party and asks, “Why wasn’t it me?” THEN, she says, “Your girl is lovely, Hubbell,” and when Big responds with obvious confusion (as a man does) she responds, “You never did understand.”
Mind you, Carrie is in her early-30s. These are thoughts grown women should keep amongst their friends or in their heads, not say out loud like you’re auditioning for the role of Most Tortured Person Alive at a stranger’s engagement party.
And don’t get me wrong—this rewatch isn’t making me Team Big. If anything, it’s making me realize Big is exactly what men have always been: a guy who likes having a pretty, wild, funny woman around as long as he gets to feel smarter than her.
Even so, I don’t fully buy into the idea that Mr. Big never loved Carrie. He obviously cares for her and enjoys her company. However, there are subtle instances that make it clear he doesn’t really know her. In Season 2, Big buys Carrie that god-awful sparkly bird purse and claims, “It reminded me of you.” Like… okay. First of all, that purse should be tried at The Hague. Second of all, “it reminded me of you” is what men say when they don’t know anything about you besides “tiny” and “chaotic.”
During their arguments you can honestly tell he thinks she’s quite dumb or flat out naive. He talks down to her constantly and always dismisses her feelings. He tells her “you don’t understand” or “you don’t know what you’re talking about” and Carrie’s inner monologue is actually agreeing with him, which is insane. That dynamic is not sexy. It’s emotional hospice care.
Emotionally unavailable men breadcrumb you to death until you finally say I’m sick of this, and then they magically become the most present, devoted man on Earth the second you move on. When Big saw that Carrie moved on he immediately did what he could to ruin it.
He acted like his hands were tied when he decided to marry Natasha and all but shrugged his shoulders when Carrie found out. He knew Carrie wouldn’t be able to resist because maybe he would actually change this time for her. Maybe this time she’ll be worthy enough for him to establish their relationship.
Meanwhile he dismisses her feelings constantly—when she wants to meet his mother, when she says “I love you” and he doesn’t say it back, when she’s tired of him looking at other women. Big never did anything to reassure Carrie that he actually wanted to be with her.
But here’s the part that makes this show sting when you rewatch it with a frontal lobe: Carrie clearly had insecurities and inadequacies that surpassed anything Big was capable of fixing. Carrie very much needed therapy, but even ruins that in Season 2 by sleeping with an alcoholic she met in the office. Carrie is the type to go to therapy and treat it like a creative writing workshop.
There are so many instances where these women could have actually been happy. Carrie could have been very happy with Aidan, but she ruined it by cheating with Mr. Big—because Carrie herself is not emotionally available. From one avoidant to another, I recognize the signs.
Yes, Carrie is vocal about her feelings with Big, but she plays emotional mind games first. It’s a vulnerability fake-out. You share select things to ease that sense of detachment and loneliness, to feel as though you’re trying to connect, but you still get to stay emotionally safe. It’s minimizing risk and maintaining control. Miranda and Samantha do this too. In fact, Charlotte is the only character that ends up truly happy because she goes all in. She’s annoying sometimes, but she’s the only one who doesn’t treat intimacy like a hostage negotiation.
When Carrie has the opportunity to even be remotely happy she sabotages it because she feels emotionally unsafe. She knows what to expect with Mr. Big and deep down she knew he wouldn’t show up at the altar to marry her. She knew he wouldn’t want to move in with her. She chooses these things because I can guarantee it would hurt her a lot more if Aidan decided he suddenly didn’t want her, so she decides for him first. It’s “I can’t get left if I leave first” with a designer shoe budget.
As I rewatch shows I really had no business watching at 15, I realize how much these women actually suck. Miranda is a miserable, angry person, Carrie and Samantha are both insecure, male-identified women and Charlotte is the only one I actually like. Don’t even get me started on the women of Girls. They are such awful people and even shittier friends. Hannah Horvath is the entire reason I took a step back and finally realized my self-loathing comes across as narcissism. Self-obsession is only cool in your 20s and starts to get tacky in your 30s. Carrie Bradshaw the millennial, hipster nerd generation would have loved your newsletter.
If you know me personally, you know I’m a certified man-hater (you can trademark that). I even wrote an entire Substack post about it—but here’s the truth: I don’t actually hate men. I love the seemingly perfect ones that grace my screen and say the right things to win over the stubborn female lead. What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic with a violent allergy to real-life dating.
As a little girl, you grow up believing Mr. Right will eventually come find you, sweep you off your feet, and take you far, far away from your boring life. Your life doesn’t really start until you meet him—and in the meantime, you just kind of wander around bumping into things.
Mr. Right is funny, smart, gainfully employed, takes you out on actual dates, and calls when he says he’s going to. He’s not cheating, not emotionally unavailable, and he’s weirdly obsessed with you—to the point of it being semi-annoying. As I get older, I realize either being stubborn isn’t “sexy” like it is in the movies, or Mr. Right is a myth. Considering I’m a woman and therefore always right, I’m going with the latter.
Oh dearly beloved, sweet Aidan Shaw. Carrie didn’t deserve you. Who wouldn’t want a 6’5” handsome man with an actual adult job who builds furniture and loves you? Carrie looked at a man who can sand wood and communicate and said, “No, actually, I’d prefer a guy who treats me like an optional subscription.”
Haters will say Edward Cullen is abusive, and maybe they have a point, but I disagree. You’re just not evolved like me, sorry. Who wouldn’t want pure love and devotion and a dramatic suicide attempt because he thought you died? (Kidding. Mostly.)
When I was fifteen, I watched Girls on HBO for the first time and thought it changed my life. Adam and Hannah seemed perfect for each other. He was attentive—most of the time—funny, and attractive in a strange, wounded-dog sort of way. But rewatching it now? He didn’t have a full-time job, pushed her boundaries constantly, and was flat-out selfish. Lena Dunham might be one of the most annoying white women on the planet, but she can write the hell out of a show. That one scene where Hannah says she’s tired of being self-aware and wants to be happy? Still hits.
As I rewatch shows like this, I can’t help but think about my own life and how much growing I still have left to do. Why do I find the always-angry, emotionally stunted men attractive? And what does it say about me?
I’ve never known love to be easy. I’ve never seen anyone close to me experience a relationship that didn’t come with cheating, lying, abuse, or just… silence. Eventually, the woman caves—not out of love, but out of fear of being alone. And the compromise always falls on her. It’s her career. Her time. Her money.
Love just always seemed like a punishment for women. So I never thought it was worth the effort.
I also just haven’t met anyone worth trying for. I don’t have the emotional capacity required for dating. I don’t think most men are that funny or that interesting. And I have no interest in sifting through garbage just to find a diamond.
As little girls, we’re told “wait for your knight in shining armor—he’ll come for you!” But what if he doesn’t? Or what if he does, and he’s just an asshole? Why should I wait for someone to save me from my allegedly boring, unfulfilled life?
I think the most important work any woman can do in her life is redirect her energy positively—so she can pick the Aidan Shaws and Seth Cohens of the world. You deserve someone who is sure about you the first time your eyes meet—not someone who just settles because they can’t seem to get rid of you.
The observation about vulnerability as a fake-out is brutally accurate. Carrie shares just enough to feel connected but maintains emotional distance through chaos rather than honesty. That bird purse scene is wild tho, like Big literally bought something tacky because it seemed chaotic and called it love. I've definately been in relationships where I was choosing the familiar discomfort over actual stability because at least I knew what to expect from the former.