Friday, February 27, 2009

How Sex and the City ruined my life

*image courtesy of

Amelia says -

Want much? Want too much? I do. And guys, it’s not my fault I’m neurotic. And no, I realize you are usually at fault for the shit in our lives - and I commend you for taking responsiblity for it - but this time it's not you either.

Sex and the City has shown me that not only do I want to work from home at a job I love, I want to have a great group of friends to go out to brunch and bars with, to be more brutally honest with than I even am with myself and to come to think of as sisters - oh yes, not just any friends will do, only the very best of girl friends. I also want an entirely new wardrobe with a wholly unique outfit for every single day. And a body that will not betray me no matter how old I get, how many men I bed, and how many hamburgers I stuff my face with. I want to have no money worries. Who doesn't want that? And a gazillion guys who think the world of me and would do anything within their power to make me smile. I want to be able to balance the perfect career, social life, love life and family life without breaking a sweat. I want passion in the bedroom after sharing a bed, bathroom, entire apartment for over a year and cleaning up after the other person and living with all their faux pases.

That part is especially significant. I might be able to intelligently conclude that sacrifice is a part of every relationship but Sex and the City has shown me that I should not have to make any. I currently live with a man who follows a bad day at work with a six pack of beer. And turns video gaming into an endurance sport. Who hawks a louie in the bathroom sink every day and never really thinks to do any housework. But Sex and the City has taught me to encourage him to cut back on the boozing (and to be completely insulted if he condemns my love affair with wine), to turn the video games off, to drag him into the bathroom to point out the gob and respectfully demand that he never do it again, and to entice him to join me doing housework by posing as a french maid. But where is Sex and the City when he becomes angry and insulted at my attempts to get my way? What does Sex and the City have to say when he accuses me of not wanting to date him at all but of trying to change him into someone he's not?

So I live with the occasional binges, the video games, the sink boogers and all the rest of the bad that comes with the good. All the while dreaming of a sexier, citier life. And not only do I want everything that comes along with that life, I fully believe that I deserve them. All.

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