Forgive Me Carrie, for I Have Sinned

Repeatedly now, I've found myself in a room where I've had to suddenly burst into that noise you make when you don't want a surprise ruined... you know... "EH EH EH EH!!" with one hand covering an ear and the other hand forced out in the direction of the person who spoke last.

"I'm mad at Big because..."

"Oh I cried when..."

"I couldn't believe that..."

"I thought it was perfect that..."

I have managed to stop all of these sentences in their tracks. We'll see how much longer that will last.

I have not seen the movie yet. Please don't tell me anything. Not even about the stupid bird on her dress (this is the only thing that's been leaked to me). I feel like I've betrayed my own kind. Like I've betrayed Carrie Bradshaw. It's not like I don't care:

For years I've used Aidan, Big, Steve, Jack within analogies about my own love life. I am a sucker for big print, flowers, skirts, and fantastical (and curly) hairdos. Facebook proudly announces I am most like Carrie Bradshaw -- quirky, witty, and every guy's perfect first date." I have flitted out the door too many times to count commenting "I am SO Carrie tonight."

SATC is a profound television show that deeply impacted our culture, and has become part of our lives... so I feel so disconnected from the rest of the female race. I'm missing the final chapter. Why was this movie not a priority? I saw Kung Fu Panda first?!

I was a freakin' New Yorker for four years. I'm known in my closest circle for oft quoting Carrie and her "New York is my boyfriend, I don't need anything else" moments. Maybe I'm just avoiding an old flame? Oh well, no matter the reason, I must rectify the situation and fuel the fire so I can not feel like such a failure of a woman. Mission: Sex and the City this week.