The woman I’m dating resembles millions of other bright twenty-something women. She speaks “Sex and the City”. She is so fluent in “Sex and the City” that occasionally, when she and her friends begin talking about something, “Sex and the City” references encrypt the spoken word. All meaning is obscured or lost – to me. Thus while I dance around the periphery of these conversations, out of step and moving to the conversational Tango when it is actually a conversational Moonwalk, I deceive myself into thinking I’m grooving with the conversation. For example…
“…Yeah, he is a Booger!” she exclaims.
A thoughtful pause…
“Yeah, I can see that. Either a booger or a …” her friend trails off as I interrupt.
“A booger!” I demand. “Who the hell is booger? C’mon…You mean the geek from Nerds?”
“No, Berger. You know, the guy Carrie…”
And so the ladies trailed off into a Merengue-inspired conversation just as I began Moon walking. All would have been lost had it not been for the accident.
Scene: The Accident
Your author is eating a gourmet home cooked dinner familiar to microwave ninjas across the globe. Flipping through various television channels he looks for something entertaining to compliment his gourmet dinner. After some hesitation your author settles for “My Name Is Earl”. Some times passes, and just before another episode of “My Name Is Earl” airs, he runs to his remodeled kitchen (circa 1979) and utilizes years of training to prepare another gourmet home cooked dinner. Now satiated and nearing the end of the “My Name Is Earl” episode, your author decides to do the dishes (discard the gourmet home cooked dinner box) and grab his guitar. Returning to his couch, he is immediately assaulted with a catchy little sound bite announcing the irreducible complexity of four women… or, “Sex and the City”. In this episode Berger and Carrie define what their relationship is and where it is going.
This accident not only forced me to stop playing my guitar, but it also unleashed memories of the aforementioned “Sex and the City” reference-laden conversation tucked away in the back of my mind, leaving me with a few questions. If I were a Berger, was I dating a Carrie Bradshaw? I couldn’t help but wonder if we’re all distilled into characters from “Sex and the City”, and if so, then how’s a guy to find love and sanity in this city?