Two weeks after it's release, my friends and I finally made it to see the much talked about movie, "Sex in the City." I must admit it was definitely entertaining. The men even had some good laughs, after being reluctantly dragged to the theater with the girls. And thank JESUS for Samantha, the promiscuous character in the film, for exposing the true side of the female lust for the shlong. If it wasn't for her (very important) role, then none of us would have had the pleasure of watching her seductive neighbor, Dante, take a very revealing, mouth watering shower. I know for a fact all the women in the theater were collectively thinking one thing: DAMN. As for the tear jerking, touching moments, there were a few that almost had me pulling out the tissue. If you don't want to know what happens, then DON'T read on!
LAST CHANCE....
1. When Carrie got the call from Big that he wasn't coming. She was in her gown, minutes from the altar, surrounded by friends. Then Big says over the phone that he just couldn't do it. She drops the phone, holding her chest, gasping for breath in sheer devastation. Her performance as a stood-up bride had us all in the moment, denying the lumps in our throats.
2. When Big tries to catch her leaving the church after changing his mind. Carrie beats him with the bouquet, all the while screaming, and heads back to the limo, Big chasing after. Charlotte aggressively grabs her heart-broken friend and with a hand-halt-pointed-finger motion, screams "NO" towards Big with startling conviction and watery eyes. The moment of truth, the scene in which all women around the world reconnect and identify with the necessity of girlfriends.
We serve as protectors of our own, always there at the right moments. It was a powerful scene, and another award-winning performance in the film, I must say. We laugh, we cry, we joke, we depart. But when it must be done, when we must be there, we know it. And the true ones always follow through. I always said there was something more devastating about the death of a friend, as opposed to the death of a relative. Your friends take a part of you with them that no one else knows exists, not even your mother or father, sister or brother. All the secrets you've ever had go right along with them, all the way back to your first kiss. The part of you that a friend knows is irreplaceable. When my good friend died, a part of me did as well. After 11 years, I never fully recovered. I still visit the grave with pink roses.
Well, enough boo-hooing about Sex in the City. But I do recommend seeing it, with a few friends and some Kleenex. If you REALLY want your money's worth, go on your period. (This does not apply to straight men.)
Stay tuned for my next column in "Dear Creemy."
Yours,
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