Sex and the City (1998–2004): Season 3, Episode 4 - Boy, Girl, Boy, Girl... - full transcript

Charlotte's gallery scores a big hit with the works of the artist Baird Johnson, rare even for New Yorkers' almost un-shockable standards: drag kings, women completely dressed-up as men; ...

It's been said that New Yorkers

are the most jaded people
in the world.

The fact is we've done and seen it all.

So when Charlotte
said that her new show

at the gallery would blow us away,

we took it with the proverbial grain
of salt.

Seriously, that's a woman?

It was the latest installation
from photographer Baird Johnson,

entitled "Drag Kings -

"The collision of illusion and reality".

Yep, that's a woman.

Look at that bulge, it's shocking.

Hurry up and look
before Giuliani shuts it down.

- What do you think?
- It's amazing.


Women dressed as men are popular.

I thought it was "Pokemon".

All it takes is stick-on
sideburns and a sock in your pants.

That's some sock.

I've always had a thing for cowboys.

Reminder, John Wayne is a Jane.

I'm attracted to her.
Maybe I'm a lesbian.

I dated a guy who liked to wear
my underwear.

But I've never gone the other way.

If you're gay you can wear
everyone's underwear.

That's hygienic?

Being a drag king would be fun.

I have enough trouble trying to be
a woman in a man's world,

without being a woman
pretending to be a man.

You wouldn't have to wax.

If you change your mind,

you've got cop written all over you.

- Am I rich yet?
- Getting there.

Everyone. This is Baird, the artist.

These are my friends.

What inspired you to do this?

I feel we have dual powers
within each of us.

Men can be very female,
and women can be very male.

Gender's an illusion.
Sometimes a very beautiful illusion.

You know,
I'm gonna go and get a canape.

Because, I'm starved, so...

Not that a canape is a meal.
But, you know... in a pinch.

Excuse us.

What was that about?
Nobody loves canapes that much.

He makes me nervous.
I think he is...

- Ask him out.
- I can never make the first move.

Sounds like someone needs
a sock in the pants.

I'll drag myself home.
You wanna share a cab?

No, I'm meeting Sean.

- The young guy?
- He's not that young.

He's 26. His generation
has a different letter than ours.

Who cares? Age is an illusion.

- Good night.
- Good night.

Later, Miranda found her apartment

had undergone
its own gender transformation.

What are you doing here?

I got a key from when I fed your cat.
I ordered us Chinese.

I didn't think
we were seeing each other tonight.

- Planning on seeing the other boy?
- Now you've ruined that...

This is what we're watching?

Give me that.

Easy, you're making my brain hurt.

Don't you have to work tonight?

Not until 10:00.
I've got stuff here I can change into.


But I got till 10:00.

Miranda loved the man inside of her.

She just didn't love him inside
her apartment all the time.

Come on, the ice waits for no woman.

I'm practicing my triple salchow
in my head.

I was dragged around by Sean,
my "generation-something-else" date.

We met at a party, celebrating a new
Internet magazine Sean was running

that I still couldn't find
on my computer.

Seriously, stop!

It's easier to balance
when you're not smoking.

Smoking is the only thing
that keeps me balanced.

Doesn't this place rock?

You have to give me credit
for an original date.

It's not officially a date
without cocktails.

My coach is gonna kill me.

Half a flask later, Sean and I had
broken the ice... at least my ass had.

- That last fall was at least a 9.2.
- You and the Russian judge... tough.

There was something about him.
He was sexy, charming... coordinated.

Nothing about him
or our third date felt typical.

When was your last
serious relationship?

Until then... there it was.
The inevitable third-date question.

Bad question?

You wanna take another spin
around the death rink?

No, it's fine. It's fine.

I ended something a while ago.

Two years of a lot of back and forths.
We weren't Y2K compatible.

What about you?

Before you there was Kayla.
Neurotic. Lasted a year.

Before her, Lesley, couldn't commit.
Before Lesley there was Mark.

Is that a problem?

He's a bisexual.

I could have told you that.
He took you ice-skating.

The weird thing is he was so open.

"Hi. I'm a bisexual. "
Like, "Hi, I'm from Colorado".

You're not allowed
to be bisexual in Colorado.

"Is that a problem?"
What kind of question is that?

- Of course!
- What did you say?

That it wasn't a problem.
He's such a good kisser.

That generation
is all about sexual experimentation.

All the kids are going bi.

If they all jump off a bridge,
you will too?

I'm a "try-sexual".
I'll try anything once.

When did this happen?
When did the sexes get all confused?

Somewhere between Gen X and Y,
they blended and made XY.

I did the "date the bisexual guy"
thing in college.

- They all ended up with men.
- So did the bisexual women.

Which is why there
are no men left for us.

Maybe I do have a problem
with this. I'm an old fart.

Correction: A hot old fart.

I'm not even sure bisexuality exists.

It's just a layover
on the way to Gaytown.

Isn't that next to Ricky Martinville?

It's great. He's open to all sexual
experiences. He's evolved. It's hot.

It's greedy.
He's double-dipping.

You're not marrying him, you're
making out with him. Forget the label.

You're right.

I'm very into labels. Gay. Straight.
Pick a side and stay there.

Where are you going?

Home. I've got a date
with my remote control.

Steve's playing basketball.
That's three hours of alone time.

- What about my problem?
- Stop kissing him.

Easy for her to say.

That night, I couldn't get
Samantha's words out of my head.

Was Sean's generation
on to something?

Was sexual flipping
the wave of the future?

If it was, could I play that game
or was I over the hill?

If women can transform into men,
and men into women

and we can sleep with everyone,

then maybe gender
doesn't exist anymore.

If we can take the best
of the other sex and make it our own,

has the opposite sex
become obsolete?

Don't bust my balls. If you're a
head-hunter, get me a good assistant.

- Yeah?
- I'm looking for a Mrs. Jones.

- It's Miss.
- I'm here for the assistant job.

Please, come in.

Samantha hired Matt
five minutes later.

She was the man of the office,
but she could fit one more.

Meanwhile downtown, Charlotte
could have used some help herself.

Someone is being industrious.

Hi. I didn't hear you come in.

I thought I'd come by
and scare the shit out of you.

Pick up my cheque
for the pieces I sold.

- Here.
- Thanks.

There's something else.
I've been thinking about this.

I would love you to pose for me.

- As a man?
- Yeah, you'd be great.

- No, I don't think so.
- Why not?

- I'm not...
- A model?

No, butch.

You'd be surprised.
Every woman has a male inside.

Even you.

No, not me.

I'm really bad at math and I can't
change a tire to save my life.

Pose for me.
I'll get it out of you.

Come on, be a man.

The next night, Sean and I went to a
club so new, even I hadn't heard of it.

- What's the name of this place?
- "Hair".

- Like the musical.
- Like the stuff on your head.

- You're too cool for me.
- You're too cute for me.

Ten seconds of kissing and I almost
forgot his lack of sexual orientation.

Until we stopped kissing.

Who are you checking out,
the guy or the girl?

I was looking for the bathroom.

Oh. Sorry. I'm sorry.

Sorry, this whole bisexual thing
is throwing me for a loop.

You've been with men and women...

Were you just looking at that guy?

I'm looking at you.

I'm with you. I dig you.

- "Dig" is in again?
- So is "groovy". You're that too.

So, you're not gay?

I've been in three major relationships.
One was a guy. That's just me.

An hour later, Sean was in my bed.

That's just me.

- Nice floor.
- Thanks. It's a rental.

- What?
- Nothing.

Tell me or I'll make you
go skating again.

- Do I kiss better than a guy?
- Better than any I've kissed.

How about me?

- Top two per cent.
- I'll take that.

If there was this good-looking guy
walking towards you

and across the street
was a beautiful girl, which one...

Carrie, come on.

Could you stop making this
all about sex?

It's not. It's about the person... you.

I'm crazy about you.

The way you smell.

The way your upper lip tastes.

It may not have been all about sex,
but it was for the next two hours.

I wasn't the only one
with younger men on the brain.

Listen to me. We've called
your boss three times already.

Give him that message.

What are you doing?

- That is not how I do business.
- She makes me crazy.

These are important clients.
Don't talk to them like that.

You want them to call you?

Let me remind you
that I am the boss here.

Fire me. I just think
you deserve some respect.

Put this file away.

Samantha found Matt's boyish
arrogance annoying,

unprofessional... and incredibly hot.

Miranda was having a problem
sharing a space with the other sex.


- What's going on?
- You're on my side.

My pillow.
My guest pillow.

OK, I'll tell you what.

Tomorrow we'll buy some paint
and draw a line down the middle.

Go to sleep.

That pile. Your stuff.
You have to keep it neater.

Maybe if you can spare a drawer
I can keep my things out of the way.

You want a drawer?


I'd like to move in.

Most single women
dream of this moment.

Most single women but Miranda.

Wow! OK.

Where did that come from?

I've been thinking about it.

We have a great time.
We're practically live together...

Yeah, but we're not.


We just started dating again.

There is no need to go at warp speed.
Nobody's dying.

I'm sure every book
would say we're not ready.

You're here all the time.

No problem. I'll get out of your hair.
I'll leave the key.

No! Don't leave the key.
Take the key.

I just... I need my space.
I feel like I'm being suffocated.

Jesus, Miranda...

It's like you're the guy sometimes.

Faced with relationship problems,
some women turn to fried food.

Miranda turned to the latest fitness
craze - "The Goddess Workout".

Ladies, open up your chakras.
Let the inner goddess sing.

She's in there.
All you have to do is let her out.

- This helps you to be a woman?
- I must find my inner goddess.

And pop your hip. Pop your hip.

Open yourself like a lotus flower.

Come on, pop your hip.

Pop your hip.

- My hips don't pop, I'm a guy.
- You're insane.

This isn't helping me find my inner
goddess, only my inner humiliation.

And reach back.
Reach for the stars.

We're out of here.

I'm never gonna be a girly girl.
I never will.

- I'll never be a lotus flower.
- Thank God.

A girly girl would want
her boyfriend to move in.

She also wears make-up to the gym.

And makes little hearts
above her "i's".

I do love him... I do.

- I know.
- What's my problem?

In any relationship
one person is the alpha dog.

The one in charge... that's you.
You don't like sharing your water dish.

- I'm very free with the chew toys.
- That you are.

Miranda arrived home later
to an empty apartment.

And for the first time,
she really didn't like it.

While Miranda and I worked out
our inner goddesses,

Baird was working the male
out of Charlotte.

You look great.

I'm sorry, I can't do this.

Just relax. Let it go.
Forget Charlotte.

You're a man now. You're a hot guy.
You can get any woman you want.

You're rich, you're powerful.
You eat guys like me for lunch.

How are you feeling now?

I think I need a bigger sock.

I think you do, too.



Who knows whether it was the sock
or the suit or Baird.

Charlotte wasn't just a chick with
a dick, she was a chick with balls.

The two alpha dogs at Samantha's
were not getting along as well.

These invitations need to go
to the printers ASAP.

I'll get to it.

Now. Drop them at 72nd Street
then pick up lunch.

They're in opposite directions.
I'll get lunch first.

- Invitations first.
- Fine, then I'll be an hour late.

Do you realize you're my assistant?

Your job is to do what I say.

- I know what I'm doing.
- And I know better.

- Say's who?
- Me.

- Who do you think you are?
- Your boss.

Samantha Jones' PR.

I don't know when she will.
She's been busy.

You have a shitty attitude too.
And your parties suck.

The bad news is, you're fired.

The good news is...
now I can fuck you.

The only place Samantha and Matt
worked well together was in bed.

Fuck me on the desk.

- On the chair.
- No, on the desk.

With Sam on top, naturally.

That night,
Miranda invited Steve for pasta.

- Hi. I'm late. I know I'm late.
- It's OK.

I was gonna make you dinner,

and then this conference call
went over two hours.

I went to the market. I needed extra
virgin olive oil. They only had virgin.

I don't know the difference.
I don't cook. So I got the stuff in a jar.

Don't move. It's glass.

I can't. I can't do this.

- We'll order pizza, it's no big deal.
- It's a big fucking deal.

I just spilled Marinara sauce
and you saw that. I drop things, OK?

OK. So do I.

I do love you. But I've never
lived with anybody before.

And I'm stubborn.
And I like the remote.

And I can't cook.

I don't do laundry sometimes for
two weeks. And my sponges smell.

You're gonna see all that.
I'm scared.

I don't know if I can move forward,
but I don't want to lose you.


I'm not going anywhere.

I'm crying on your shoulder.
I guess I really am a woman.

A week later, Miranda's man
moved into her place.

The same day that Charlotte
moved her man into her place.

She never saw Baird again.

She was too embarrassed
at how forward she'd been.

She might have been that type
of guy but never that type of woman.

80 blocks downtown, five flights up,
Sean and I were almost at the party.

One more floor, I promise.

If there's no vodka, it's your head.

Take it easy, dude, we're here.

OK, dude.

- Who's party is this?
- Mark's.

Mark, ex-boyfriend Mark?

Is that a problem?

It's his boyfriend's birthday.

It was definitely a first.

I was attending a party
of my boyfriend's ex-boyfriend.

And his boyfriend.

Carrie, this is Mark
and his boyfriend Garth.

- Partner.
- This is our baby, Isabell.

Two "L's", no "E".

OK. Happy birthday.

- This is Dawn and Grace.
- They just got married in Hawaii.


- It was a spur of the moment.
- I didn't want another big wedding.

- It wasn't so bad.
- Being married to you sucked.

- You two were...
- Married. For a year.

We were high for most of it,
otherwise it would've been miserable.

Don't forget I gave you that egg.

This is our straight friend, Joel.

- Are you wearing pleather?
- Thank you for noticing.

An hour later,
I had almost got it straight.

Grace once dated Brett.

- And Brett used to live with Joel?
- Semi-platonically.

- You slept with Dawn.
- Before she was with Mark.


Gay, bi, straight. This party was
a platter of sexual orientation.

Time to play.

- Play what?
- Spin the bottle.

Seventh grade spin the bottle?

- Play. It's fun.
- Come on, it's fun.

Get a room.

Get a dental dam.

- It's a girl. Try again.
- It's OK.

Of course it was. I was in
Alice-In-Confused-Sexuality Land.

I had a choice. I could stand up,
walk out and prove I was an old fart.

Or I could fall down the rabbit hole.

So I fell. It wasn't bad.
Kind of like chicken.

- Where are you going? It's your spin.
- Just more cigarettes.

That was the last night I saw Sean.

They could do what they wanted,
but I was too old to play this game.

So I took my hot, old fart-ass home.

That's just me.