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05.26.10

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Phaedra

Dear Carrie

An open (breakup) letter to 'Sex and the City'

By Rose McMackin


Dear Carrie,

We need to talk. I always wanted to be you—the writer with the flirty puns, skyscraper stilettos and fabulous friends, with New York City at your beck and call. But after watching your turn in Sex and the City 2, I can't help but wonder if we should see other people.

It's just that I feel like I can't relate to you anymore. You used to understand exactly what I was going through. That's why we hit it off so well in the first place, back when you had credit card debt and that one loser dumped you via Post-It note. But now that you're jet-setting to Abu Dhabi, lounging in $22,000-a-night hotel suites and pouting when your husband won't accompany you to movie premieres, we just don't have anything in common anymore.

Sure, our relationship was about escapism. Those early days were amazing, you in vintage Dior and the untapped utopia of New York just waiting. But you can't even offer me that unadulterated, cotton candy fantasy anymore. This time, the sweet, syrupy goodness came with too much bitter reality—sexism, infidelity and lots of ethnocentrism.

You've got everything you ever wanted and more—the palatial closet, the friends and the man. But you aren't happy. You're whinier than ever. And, quite honestly, you're killing my buzz. I mean, you haven't been this melodramatic since you cheated on your perfect boyfriend with your not-so-perfect ex back in season three.

Maybe it's not you. Maybe it's me. It could be that I'm still too immature to find heavy-handed jokes about menopause funny, or that I'm too stuck up to appreciate your raunchier-than-ever sense of humor. Maybe my expectation that you offer a reasonably cohesive plot line was unfairly high. Maybe.

Frankly, I'm worried about you, Carrie. You used to be so stylish, but these new outfits just aren't up to your normal standard. What was that black, feathery crown you were wearing? And do you really think all that black eyeliner is a good look for you? Also, I'm concerned that you're hitting the self-tanner bottle a little too hard these days.

I don't mean to be so critical, but I think we need some time apart. We go way back and I hate to call you overexposed, but even the best of friends can get tired of each other. We've spent enough time together that I can predict half your jokes before you even make them. We've had a good long run—six seasons and two feature-length films—but I think it's time we go our separate ways.

Love,

A Single Girl

Sex and the City 2 is ubiquitous in theaters beginning Thursday, May 27.


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