SEX AND THE CITY: Valley of the Twenty Something Guys

Carrie discovers the limitations of going out with a twenty something hunk. Charlotte’s boyfriend has a sexual favor to ask; Samantha comes to the sobering realization that she’ll always be older than her boy toy.
“Did I mention I’m sleeping with him?”

Transcribed by Shalla DeGuzman www.shalladeguzman.com

Once upon a time… in a kingdom far away… a certain man—and a slightly less certain woman… kept bumping into one another. They seem to meet everywhere. On street corners, at parties. It was almost as if they were dating accidentally. And then, after another chance meeting at a wealthy lawyer’s son’s Bris… they decided to pick a time to bump into each other on purpose.
Saturday, 10:30. The hottest new restaurant in Manhattan. Samantha’s PR Firm was handling the opening…
(Girls greet each other, kiss)
Hi
Hey
So, isn’t Brian great?
Charlotte had a new boyfriend. He had her big three: looks, manners, money.
Did I tell you he wants to buy a painting from my gallery?
Love and a commission, she couldn’t have been happier.
Alright. It’s official, he’s late.
Who?
Mr. Big, who else?
Carrie, that’s great. Is it a date?
He called it a thing. He said, “Meet me… Meet me for a drink thing.”
He never used the D word.
Well, “thing” is good. I mean, “thing” comes before date.
Let’s hope so. I’m gonna go in.
Okay. See you in there.
Where did Skipper go?
Ugh, I don’t know how you can date that younger guy. I mean, they’re so scattered and convused.
We’re not dating. It’s a “fuck” thing.
Girls, isn’t this fun? I’ve turned away 20 so far. People are actually crying. (kissies)
(Inside. Carrie on the cell phone.) Oh, something came up. He’s not gonna meet me. Here, will you listen to this and tell me if you can figure out whether he’s not meeting me as a date or as a friend.
All right.
Sometimes you need a second opinion with doctors, real estate, men.
Well?
I have no idea. And I finished first in my litigation class.
How pathetic do I feel asking you if a guy kinda likes me.
There you are.
Hey, hey.
Carrie, Miranda, this is the hottest chef in New York, Jon.
Jon. J-O-N. No “H,” no last name. his blue crab strudel was so fabulous he didn’t need one.
And this is his very cute friend Sam.
Hey.
Sam? Who’s named Sam?
Me, can I get you a drink?
Oh, good luck. The bar is packed.
No problem cause the bartender is a buddy of mine.
Miranda?
Martini.
Twenty-something guys always know the really important “B” people. Busboys, bouncers. Plus, they have cute butts.
That’s the Times critic. I’d better go.
(long kiss) Did I mention I’m sleeping with him?
Skipper! He’s lost. We gotta get him.
They stopped making martinis, so I got us two rum and Cokes. Is that okay?
Well, I hate rum and I hate coke, but thanks.
Martinis, ladies.
Wow, look at you.
I was a waiter at TGIF.
Fabulous.
Hey, hey. Sam.
Skipper.
They liked each other immediately.
You wanna see something?
Can you narrow that down a little bit? Wait, I didn’t—
No fair. Do it over. Let me see.
Hey. It’s you.
I’ve been looking all over for you. Here you are, holding a tongue.
Well, your message said you weren’t coming.
I thought I said I’d try to make it for an hour.
Yeah, but then you said—
What did I say?
Never mind. You’re here, you have an hour. Let’s have a drink.
Well, I was outside trying to get in for 30 minutes inside looking for you for 20 leaving me with just enough time to tell you that I’m out of time. You have fun.
Men in their forties are like the NY Times Sunday crossword puzzle: tricky, complicated and you’re never really sure you’ve got the right answer.
This place is tired. Do you want to get out of here?
Sure. Why not? A short cab ride later, Samantha, Jon ‘no H’, Sam and I found ourselves at the nearby twenty-something club.
I can’t believe you made Jon leave his own opening.
He is way too happening to be seen someplace borderline tired.
It was a tough town, hot places had the lifespan of a medfly. Samantha, everybody in here is in their 20s.
And so are we.
As I glanced around the room, I was amazed at the wide variety of great twenty-something guys. The groovy guy. The corporate guy. The jock guy. The underage guy.
There you are. How are you? I see you found us.
Big couch.
Oh here.
That’ll work.
I’m not too heavy, am I?
Right. You weigh like nothing.
What’s cuter than that. As we took a swig from our pony-necked beers I remembered another type of twenty-something guy. So, what’s it like to kiss with that thing in?
You wanna find out?
The really good kisser guy.
Next day***
(phone) I am so fucked.
What’s wrong?
I have been fucked every way you can be fucked.
If you keep talking like that, I’m gonna have to charge you by the minute. As I searched for my morning Marlboro light, Samantha proceeded to give me a rundown of her night with Jon, no ‘h’ no inhibitions.
We did it with him on top, me on top, me on my side.
Him on his side?
Oh god yes. on his back, on his side on his face. Have you ever done that?
It’s too early to remember.
Well do it immediately, it is fabulous. These guys in their twenties they are up for anything. How did it go with you and Sam?
We kissed.
Just kissed.
No. we just kissed for 5 hours at the club, in front of the club, on the corner of the club. I forgot how much fun it is to just kiss, you know, even if I did only get 2 hours of sleep.
I didn’t sleep at all.
As Samantha went on about her sexcapades, I glanced down at my arm. There it was in Bic blue—twenty-something Sam’s phone number. I had this sudden urge to call, but I just left him. Hell, my lips were still swollen. Why this sudden craving? Are men in their twenties the new designer drug? Yes, Samantha, Miranda and I were all recreational users but were we getting into something we couldn’t handle? Okay, we were attracted to younger men for various reasons. But I couldn’t help but wonder: what do they see in us?
Women in their 30’s are just so grateful
(samples)
Later that week, Miranda and I compared notes. Shouldn’t we be dating men our own age?
Good luck finding one. There are no available men in their thirties in NY. Giuliani had them removed along with the homeless.
Then what’s really going on here?
Is it younger men feel safer?
What’s really going on here is sex. Good old fashioned eager to please do what I tell you to, Eagle Scout sex.
But I’m not having sex. It’s a kissing thing.
So what’s the big deal? It’s just a fling. It’s not like we’re throwing out our schedules or anything.
Oh sweetie, I gotta go. I’m late for a meeting with my editor.
Bye!
I didn’t want to tell her I cancelled lunch with my editor to go to Banana Republic and help twenty-something Sam pick out a shirt.
As I hand him a shirt, I think, he’s sweet, he’s fun, could he be a potential boyfriend?
(kissing)
Please! This isn’t the GAP.
And speaking of potential boyfriends later that week, the ‘crossword puzzle’ asked me to meet him for a drink blank. Not quite a date, 5 letters, starts with a T.

(Scenes missing)
But now, it wasn’t working. I wasn’t getting the same rush. Tonight, I needed more. Meanwhile, uptown, Charlotte wondered when relationships got complicated. She yearned for the time when dinner was followed by dessert, not lubricant.
I can’t Brian, I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. I mean actually, no that’s not true, I don’t’ want to. Or maybe I do. I don’t know what I want, but I’m afraid if I don’t you’ll dump me. And if I do, then I’ll be the ‘up the butt’ girl. I don’t wanna be the ‘up the butt’ girl, men don’t marry the ‘up the butt’ girl. Who ever heard of Mrs. ‘up the butt’ girl? No, no, no. I can’t. I want children and nice bedding and I just can’t handle this right now.
Can we fuck the regular way?
Yes, please.
That night, they made love the Charlotte way, polite and respectful on 300 count Egyptian cotton sheets.
Meanwhile, downtown…
That was really great. You know, when you lay like that you have the cutest little wrinkles on your neck.
Samantha realized as long as she dated someone younger she would always be older. She gave up twenty-somethings right then and there. As Samantha went cold turkey, I got in deeper and deeper. That was—
Totally awesome.
I was hooked, gone. Who cares about age, the crossword puzzle, the cab money I’d left on the table? This felt so good, I’d do anything to keep this high. And just when I thought I couldn’t get any higher, he spooned me. I woke up wanting more. Or maybe not. In the gray morning light, everything looked completely different. Candles from urban outfitter, dirty laundry, a pizza box. Suddenly reality hit. I’m in a twenty something apartment.
Good morning babe.
Good morning.
Fuck. I had this amazing dream. My father and my ex girlfriend were like dead or something. How are you doing? It’s good to see you.
Coffee. I need coffee.
It’s in the kitchen. I had these big hands, these big aluminum hands and I lived in this like big missile silo that was totally nuclear and it was surrounded by like my enemies and hit. And one by one they’d run at me! They got inside somehow. I don’t remember but they would like run at me and I would crush them to pieces with my big aluminum hands. I crushed this one guy, he had no face and stuff but I crushed him. I could crush anything with these big fucking hands, man.
You don’t have any coffee filters.
I’ll make that, that’s alright. Oh, you were in the dream as this beautiful unicorn woman with glass eyes.
You coffee. Me bathroom.
That would make a kick ass song wouldn’t it? Unicorn woman…
Ahh!
Oh that’s my roommate.
Every fiber in my 30 something being was screaming, ‘Get out, you’re too old for this.’ And just when I thought I couldn’t sink any lower—I need toilet paper.
I’m just using the last of it to make the coffee.
I decided the only way to break free was to move from one addiction to an even bigger one. Shoes. A couple of blocks and way too much money later I realized I had just entered an interesting chapter in my life. I had outgrown the boys in my past and not quite grown into the men of my future.
Hey. How are you?
Why is it in a city of 10 million men you always see the one you don’t want and never see the one you…
Hi, what are you doing down there?
It’s a wobbly table. Guess I have the touch. Would you care to join us?
Hinge.
What?
Your crossword puzzle. 5 letter word to bring together, hinge. Nice seeing you. Bye.
Bye.
Excuse me.
Hey, just so you know, I would’ve have gotten hinge on my own.
Maybe.
I have no doubt.
Now that I’ve got Jack hooked up, I’m single again. Maybe we can have dinner sometime.
I don’t know. I’m good at crossword puzzles. I’m just not so good at people puzzles.
Anywhere you want, just you and me.
Call me. As I walked away, I had a thought: maybe all men are a drug. Sometimes they bring you down, sometimes, like know, they make you so high. Damn, it would’ve been so cool if I hadn’t looked back.

Transcribed by Shalla DeGuzman www.shalladeguzman.com