Sex and the City (1998–2004): Season 2, Episode 4 - They Shoot Single People, Don't They? - full transcript

Now none of the girls has a relationship, the quartet hits a salsa bar all night, so Carrie is late for a photo-shoot for Stanford's boyfriend Nevin's magazine; the result is worse then she...

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In life,
certain events come along so rarely...

...that when they do,
special attention must be paid.

Events like Halley's comet, solar eclipses...

...getting that second latte for free.

One night at a salsa club
in very downtown Manhattan...

...four single girlfriends found
themselves without a relationship... the exact same time.

She's not bad.

- Here's to us without men.
- Hear, hear.

I'm not toasting to that. It's bad luck.

If I end up old and alone, it's all your fault.

Sweetie, we're all alone,
even when we're with men.

You tell her, Mr. Sister.

My advice to you, is to embrace that fact...

...slap on some armor
and go through life like I do.

Enjoying men but not expecting them
to fill you up.

- Except when, well, you know...
- We know, we know.

Excuse me,
I was wondering if you'd like to dance.

Thanks, but tonight it's just us girls.

I'm William, one of the club owners.


If you ever feel like a dance,
we could have some fun.

I'm impressed, not dumping us for a guy.

Is that the kind of girl you think I am?

I'm going. I'm getting my picture taken
for the magazine article in the morning.

What magazine article?

All press needs to be cleared through me.

New York Magazine.

They're doing a profile
of 20 Manhattan singles...

...and it's called "Single and Fabulous."

Why wasn't I picked?
I'm single and I'm definitely fabulous.

I was picked because Stanford's new
boyfriend is the assistant photo editor.

You can't leave. We never go dancing.

- Come on, one more drink.
- All right, one drink.

To hot men.

One drink turned into many,
and before I knew it...

...I was dragging my tired, yet single
and fabulous ass home at dawn.

I decided my best bet
to avoid looking like I'd been up all night...

...was to stay up all morning.

It's Stanford. You're 40 minutes late.

I'm at the photo shoot
and everyone's freaking out!

- I'm there, 20 minutes.
- 20 minutes!

I said 20 minutes!

I could not get a cab.

What did you do, let one drag you here?

Stop, I was up all night.
I need a coffee the size of my head.

- Carrie, this is Nevin.
- Gosh, hi.

Stanford has told me so much about you.
It's really nice to finally meet you.

Hello, you're about a fucking month late!

Follow me.

Don't look at me, you're the one
who's about a fucking month late.

My poncho!

Hi, I'm so sorry.

- Could you sit?
- Sure.

There's gonna be time for makeup, right?

Thank God!

I wanna do a few test shots
before I check the lighting.


- Do you mind if I smoke?
- I don't care if you shoot up.

I never keep people waiting.
I got to bed really late last night.

And it's my personal belief,
I lapsed into a coma.

Thank you.

They only had decaf.

Being single and fabulous
also frees up one's weekends.

Saturdays usually spent browsing with him
in Soho are left for practical things... power walking with your single
and fabulous girlfriends.

We're walking too slow.
We're not burning off anything.

Let's gossip to get our heart rates up.


Josh, hi. How are you?

Good, great. Training for the Marathon.

Right, I forgot you do that.

Five years in a row.

You've got my number, give me a call.

Cute. Who's that?

An ophthalmologist
I once faked orgasms with.

We're officially stopping.

The idea that Miranda would fake anything
stopped me cold.

I only slept with him twice.

The first time I faked it
because it was never gonna happen.

The second time I faked it
because I did the first time.


I didn't wanna fake it again,
so I just forgot to return his call.

You broke up
with an ophthalmologist over that?

- Orgasm, major thing in a relationship?
- But not the only thing.

Orgasms don't send you Valentine's cards
and don't hold your hand in a sad movie.

Mine do.

You're seriously advocating faking?

No, but if you really like the guy,
what's one little moment of...

...versus spending the whole night
in bed alone?

These are my options?

Who's to say that one moment is any
more important than when he gets up...

...and pours you a cup of coffee
in the morning?

Let's go!

I'll take an orgasm over a cup
of French drip Colombian any day.

For me, it's a toss-up.

The usual, please.

Having smoked all my cigarettes
during our workout...

...I stopped for fresh supplies when...

There I was...

...hanging right next to
Martha Stewart Living...

...Carrie Bradshaw,
dying of embarrassment.

"Single and Fabulous?"

There was no question mark implied.

I would never agree to be in an article,
"Single and Fabulous?"

I was set up.

I agree. You're single, fabulous and fucked.

Not after that picture I won't be.

They said, "Single and Fabulous!"

They did not say, "Single and Fabulous?"

That question mark is hostile.

Can't we sue them or something?

- For what, mis-punctuation?
- It's too late.

I'm all over the city looking like something
that got caught in a drain.

You know what? I just quit smoking.

"Single was fun at 20.
But you wanna ask these women:

"'How fun will all night
club hopping be at 40?"'

- Who's out all night?
- Who's 40?

Do you know what I say,
"Fuck them, exclamation point!"

- Fuck them!
- Fuck them!

Charlotte said, "Fuck."

Every couple of years,
an article like this surfaces... a cautionary tale
to scare young women into marriage.

I'm a cautionary tale? Shoot me.

"Filling their lives with an endless parade
of decoys and distractions...

" avoid the painful fact
that they're completely alone."

How is that helping?

This piece of trash has nothing,
I repeat, nothing to do with us.

- Exactly, we are single and fabulous.
- Absolutely.

But I had a sneaking suspicion
they didn't quite believe it.

Somehow, the question mark had leapt
off my cover and on to each of them.

Because, within a week...

...Miranda met Josh for old time's sake.

Samantha met William for a dance.

And Charlotte met a deadline head-on.

So, I'm moving to Salt Lake City.

What? Why?

The acting thing in New York
is definitely not happening.

I've a chance to get on a Christian
soap opera if I move out West.

A Christian soap opera?

The Days of our Mormon Lives
or some shit.

Hand me that receiver cable.


What'll you do around here without me?

Tom was an out of work actor friend
Charlotte had come to depend on... do the occasional male things
she needed done around her apartment.

Because he was an out of work actor,
he had a lot of time.

And because he had a lot of time,
he had a lot of tools.


That is the VCR.

After I rewire your lamp, I'm out of here.

Unless you have something
else you need done.

Charlotte made a decision.

She decided she wasn't gonna let
her Mr. Fix-It get away.

While women are certainly
no strangers to faking it...

...we faked our hair color, cup-size.
Hell, we've even faked fur.

I couldn't help but wonder,
has fear of being alone...

...suddenly raised the bar on faking?

Are we faking more than orgasms?

Are we faking entire relationships?

Is it better to fake it than be alone?

My boyfriend and I were really compatible
except for one thing:

He liked thin, blond, Waspy types. So... I am.

I think my wife's an idiot.

Every day with her
is like a trip to Idiot Island.

I don't tell her how I really feel.
I'm pretty sure she'd leave me.

I don't understand sign language.

A glamorous city like New York
offers a sea of single and fabulous things...

...for the fabulous and single to do.

As long as the magazine's on newsstands,
I'm not going out in public...

...for fear of being scorned
and chased with sticks.

One, one! I'm not smoking.


He climbs on top of her,
next thing you know, she's coming.

No wonder they're lost, they've no idea
there's more work involved.

Still faking it?

- Is he that bad in bed?
- No, he's just...

He's a guy.

They can rebuild a jet engine,
but when it comes to a woman...

What's the big mystery?
It's my clitoris, not the Sphinx!

You just found the title
for your autobiography.

It's really not their fault.
They don't come with a manual.

If I had a son,
I'd teach him all about the vagina.

If you had a son, we'd call social services.

The other night, he told me...

...he really likes that I can come
while he's fucking me.

How can he believe that that's all it takes?

Because you're faking it!

I'm really hating myself right now.

Could you please just tell me why?

He's a nice guy. He means well.

It's codependent coming.

Well, I have to go. I got a date.

I'm meeting William after work,
and then, who knows?

From the way he dances, I'm fairly certain
I won't have to fake anything.

This is a great club.

Wait until you see my club
in the Hamptons.

Salsa East.

- Do you like the Hamptons?
- No, love... the Hamptons.

I'm renting a great house in East Hampton.

We can go out on the weekends.

We can go sailing...

...and cook big lobsters.

We can walk on the beach...

At first Samantha listened,
fascinated, detached.

It was rare to hear a man use
the "we" word, so comfortably so early on.

Or, we could just lay around and do this.

Whatever we want.

Pretty soon she gave in.

She lay back,
opened up and let the "we" wash over her.


Guess where I'm spending the summer?

- I don't know, Gucci?
- East Hampton.

William's renting a house
and he's inviting me for the summer.

- Isn't it a little early?
- Honey, no.

All the great places are taken by January.

I mean, early in the relationship.

You should have heard him last night.
"We" can cook, "we" can swim.

He's a "we" guy.

So he's a "we" guy, who cares?

"We" are going to spend
the summer in East Hampton.

And the "we" I'm referring to right now... you and me.

They say that every great actor
knows when to stop performing.

I'm getting close. Come with me.

Come with me.

For Miranda,
it was that Saturday night at exactly 10... 40.

Come with...


Is everything all right?

Are you sure? You didn't come.

Did you?


Did I do something wrong tonight,
because you came every other time.

What? Tell me.

I didn't exactly come all those other times.

You faked it?

How many of the other times?

All of the other times?

Do you have a physical problem
or something?

What makes you assume it's me?

No offense, it's just...

Nobody I've ever slept with
has had to fake it.

A lot of women fake it
and until five minutes ago... didn't know I was faking it, so...

What are you saying?

All the women I've slept with
have been faking it?

What are you looking at?

Nothing, I was just running
a list in my head.

Look, Josh.

A woman's anatomy
is a little more complicated...

I know all about a woman's anatomy.
I'm a doctor.

You're an eye doctor.

Give me some tips.

- Pardon me?
- Tips to get you off.

I am nobody's charity case.
I run the Marathon for Christ's sake.

Do you know how the clitoris works?


- Do you know where it is?
- Yes.

It's about two inches
from where you think it is.

- My God.
- Relax, I'll show you.

Later that week, I went over to Charlotte's
to see some of Tom's handiwork.

After we finish with the lighting,
we'll move to the kitchen.

We're retiling everything.

First Samantha and now Charlotte went
"we," "we," all about her home.

That's amazing! How will you
get all that done before you leave?

I'm not leaving.

I've decided to stay.

I have to go to my place
and get a voltmeter.


- I'll be right back, okay?
- Bye, honey.

"Bye, honey?"

When he told me he was leaving,
I suddenly had feelings...

...what if he was the one?

He'd been under my nose the entire time
and I'd never even seen him.

I let the "almost-40-out-of-work-actor"
thing get in the way.

He is strong and masculine...

...and he can fix things around the house.

You can't create a relationship with a guy
just because he can caulk your tub.

Yes, you can.

As I walked home,
I couldn't help but wonder...

...when did being alone become the
modern day equivalent of being a leper?

Will Manhattan restaurants
soon be divided up into sections?

Smoking, non-smoking, single, non-single?

The usual, please.

Then I had a frightening thought.

Maybe I was the one who was faking it.

All these years faking to myself
that I was happy being single.

Yes, it's me.

And there it was, pity.

Pity from the man
who sells me my Marlboro Lights.

It was the final straw.

I decided I wasn't gonna let a magazine
or my friends or the Surgeon General...

...stop me from being who I was...

Single and fabulous, exclamation point.

- Tartini?
- Excuse me?

Tartini: Cranberry flavored vodka.

I've been out of commission for four days
and there's a new drink?

I invited Stanford to join me
at a fabulous party downtown... honor the fabulous conceptual
photographer Ellen von Unwerth.

Unfortunately, he invited
his new boyfriend, Nevin "von Bitchy."

- Hi, I hate you.
- Join the club, I hate me, too.

I'm so sorry about the cover.
I had nothing to do with it.

Who cares?

Next week you'll have a coke-dealing
slumlord on the cover.

You are fabulous.

Excuse me.

You realize you'll have to dump him.

I can't. We're getting a summer share
in Sagaponack.


While Stanford and I did downtown...

...Samantha was uptown waiting for
William at her favorite romantic restaurant.


No, I'm waiting for someone.

At first she thought
she had the wrong time.

When he still wasn't there
20 minutes later, she called her machine.

No message.

I don't know what's keeping him.

Could you ask the waiter
to bring me a red wine?

She hadn't expected
to be caught out in public alone...

...without a book, project,
or any of her "dining-out-alone-armor."

She had nothing to do
but sit and wait for him.

By now she knew that "we" William
wasn't ever gonna show up.

He was one of those men
who faked a future... get what he wanted in the present.

More water?

No. No more water.

She felt exposed, vulnerable, like a fool.

My God, people are looking.

- I'm so embarrassed.
- It's okay.

- Where's the ladies' room?
- This way.

Show me the way.

You okay?

Thank you. You're very sweet.

I'm not usually like this.

I can't believe I fell for some guy's line.

But sometimes you just need to hear "we."

You know?

Samantha let the Pakistani busboy
kiss her.

After all, he'd been so sweet
and attentive with the bread.

You take me home, you're not alone.

As Samantha looked into his sweet
and hopeful eyes, she realized something.

No matter how much it hurts...

...sometimes it's better
to be alone than fake it.

Meanwhile, downtown,
I heard the funniest thing...

...I'd ever heard from a man I just met.

My God. I'm sorry, your pants.

- I'm sorry.
- It's fine.

Well, fuck you.

Exclamation point.

Okay, you little Tartini.
Time to go home. You've had enough.

- C'mon, it's early.
- It's 2:00 a.m. On a Tuesday.

Just go. Go, go, go home.

Take your tired, fabulous ass home.

I want to meet cute guys.

Everyone here is gay, gay, gay.

I don't think so.

Need a light?

His name was Jake.

He was everything
I was looking for that night.

Single, straight and a smoker.

There wasn't quite as much smoke uptown.

How's that? Is that better now?

How about now?

Miranda's two-day tutorial
with her ophthalmologist...

...had turned lovemaking
into a kind of naked eye exam.

Maybe we should just try
and let it happen for a second.

I wanna do it right.

How's that?

Even with all Josh's good intentions,
Miranda found herself no closer.

She realized she was not a jet engine.

She was a lot more complicated.
It would never work between them.

I'm close, are you close? I'm close.

She wanted to give him something
for learning so much and trying so hard.

So, Miranda came.

She came out of retirement
for one final performance.

I'm the man.

- Wanna go for a ride in my Porsche?
- Fabulous.

I need some smokes.

Do you want anything?

I'll be right back.

How you doing?
I want a pack of Marlboro Lights.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

What had I been so afraid of all week?

I was still young, still desirable.

I would never wind up alone.

Is this you?

And there it was.

My question mark staring me
right in the face.

Was that me?

If I went home with him, it'd be the only
time I'd ever had sex to validate my life.

The question mark would no longer
be a question, it would be a fact.

- I gotta go home.
- No way, I'm not letting you out.


I think I should go to Salt Lake City.
Give it a try.

No, really?

Charlotte was faking it.

She'd realized two days ago,
while she had no problem faking orgasms...

...she could never fake intimacy.

My heart's still in acting.
I'm not ready to let it go.

Tom was faking, too.

He was mostly just sick of New York
and needed an excuse to leave.

I'll miss you.

I'll miss you, too.

It was a perfectly timed double fake.

Under other circumstances,
they could've shared a long life together.

Over the next week,
things returned to normal.

Miranda, babe, it's Josh.
I'm home. Give me a call.

Miranda forgot to return Josh's last call.

Samantha made peace
with her feelings about "we" William.

And Charlotte learned you don't
have to rely on men's affections... get things fixed around the house.

You can pay them.

As for me, after I was recycled...

...I decided instead of running away
from the idea of a life alone...

...I'd better sit down
and take that fear to lunch.

- Waiting for someone?
- No, it's just me.


So, I sat there and had a glass of wine...


No books, no man, no friends, no armor... faking.

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