The Carrie Diaries (2013–2014): Season 2, Episode 6 - The Safety Dance - full transcript

Before there was sex...

before there was the
city, there was just me,

Carrie... Carrie Bradshaw
from Castlebury, Connecticut.

What do you think you're doing?

I wanna be exclusive. Is that okay?

Maggie, what are you doing here?

- Didn't realize you were with somebody.
- Uh, neither did I.

- Are you gonna tell Carrie?
- I haven't made up my mind yet.

Having sex for the
first time is a big deal.

Hopefully, it can... it
can be special with me.

- Are you sure?
- Really sure. I'm ready.



Nobody saw you, right?

- 'Cause if your dad found out...
- He won't.

I have been in close contact with my ex.

- How close?
- Just as friends.

This is where I wanna be, with you.

Flopping your closet can be exhausting...

But going from summer to fall...

Is one of the best times of the year.

because you get to do away with
your flimsy, sticky tube tops

that offer no support or protection

and snuggle into cozy sweaters

and things that make
you feel warm and safe.

And the added bonus...

you never know what
you'll find from last year.



A 20.

Your favorite lip gloss.

An unopened lollipop.

Your ex-boyfriend's coat.

There was nothing safe about that.

Oh, no. Fall cleaning?

Is it already that time again?

Yes. And you say that every year.

Ohh. You and your mother with the closets.

She loved doing this, too.

I know.

Well, do you also know that
you run out of steam every year

and leave half your closet on the floor?

Rome wasn't built in a day, dad.

And I'll clean this all up soon, I promise.

Just not right now.

I gotta go or I'll be
late for my writing class.

Ah, we're gonna be looking
at this for weeks, aren't we?

Lucky for you,

you don't have to be looking
at any of this at all.

This class is so intense.

Professor Tenley gave us

an open-ended writing assignment.

As in, no guidelines, no
parameters, no anything.

And it's gonna count for, like,
half my grade, so it matters..

How am I supposed to find
something to write about?

Okay, take a breath.

You... you have to exhale, too.

Right. Some... sometimes
I forget that part.

Hey, don't freak out.
This is assignment's cool.

No rules means you can
really find you as a writer.

Well, me as a writer
might be a crazy person

because I have no idea

how I'm even going to
begin to pick a topic.

Nothing's coming to mind.

Or everything's coming to mind.

Like, the history of
trains popped into my head.

Random but a start.

I just... I can't seem to
get a single solid thought

from my brain to the paper.

That's called writer's block.

Hey. Hey. Don't look so devastated.

It's... it's an important
part of the process,

like, uh, self-flagellation
and hating yourself.

Putting your head in the oven.

That's what I have to look forward to?

Writer's block is a good thing. Okay?

I've been through this a lot, so trust me.

You just need to embrace it.

And quit the class?

All I want to do is go shoe shopping.

Is that bad?

Ah. You're in the procrastination phase.

All good writers do that.

They do?

Yeah. It gives your mind time to settle.

So what do you like to
do when you procrastinate?

Oh, I like to take long
showers or, uh... have sex.

Or have sex in the shower.

What?

Don't talk about sex on a crowded street!

Really?

I didn't realize you were such a prude.

Excuse me?

But after what we did last night,

you cannot call me a prude.

I'm just a lady in public.

So does that mean you, uh...

don't wanna procrastinate with me?

I can't. I have to get focused.

Feel better?

I don't know.

I definitely don't feel worse.

Here's the thing.

Whatever you least want to write about,

whatever scares you the most,

that's what you have to write about.

That's the good stuff.

Truly great writers can't
stay in a safe space.

That was the scariest thought of all.

I had no idea what made
me feel most unsafe...

while West knew exactly
how to keep himself safe.

How was the guidance counselor?

Was it horrible in there?

Not at all. I'm actually excited about

some of the safety schools she recommended.

Excited?

Did you just say "excited"?

How could you use the word
"excited" and "safety school"

in the same sentence?

Hey, it feels good to
have a solid backup plan.

Are you sure you don't
want to meet with her?

She came in on a Saturday just for this.

No. I'm not meeting with her.

Safety schools are for people
who aren't getting into Harvard,

and I'm getting into Harvard.

I really hope so.

But the guidance
counselor highly recommends

applying to at least one.

Even the most skilled trapeze artists

use safety nets.

Ugh. Is that the lame analogy she used?

Why would I take guidance from her, anyway?

She went to UConn.

How can you be so snobby,
stubborn, and seductive

all at the same time?

Lots of practice.

Mouse, I respect your chutzpah,

but I still think you're
making a bad decision.

You know the word "chutzpah"?

Yeah. The guidance
counselor taught it to me.

In New York City, a true
sign of a serious relationship

is helping your boyfriend
move into his new place...

especially when that new apartment

is in the most dangerous part of town,

otherwise known as Alphabet City.

Thank God you're back.

This place is freaking me out.

Please tell me that this is temporary

and you're just making a documentary

about the tenements or something.

This neighborhood has character.

Yeah, shady ones.

Look, I know it's not
the safest neighborhood,

but it's mostly just
harmless crack addicts.

And it's all I can afford

since Stanford moved to Ibiza for the year.

Are you gonna be okay
out here with the boxes?

Sure.

I once stood between

my great Uncle Kenneth and the
liquor cabinet on Christmas.

I can manage this.

Smoke? Smoke?

No!

Thank you.

Weaver's words are haunting
my every waking moment.

Actually, my every sleeping moment, too,

since I keep having
perfectly delightful dreams

with nothing scary going on at all.

Well, I dreamt last night

that the Harvard mascot, John the Pilgrim,

was chasing me.

Oh, a college admission anxiety dream?

I would kill for an anxiety dream.

Then at least I would know
what I should write about.

I just... I can't think
of one significant thing

that makes me feel unsafe.

Um...

what are you doing?

I don't want to make eye
contact with the condoms.

Carrie, condoms don't have eyes.

Well, you know what I mean.

No, I really don't.

I don't want people to see
I'm staring at the condoms

and think I'm a perv or something.

Having safe sex probably
means you're not a perv.

That's a good point.

Carrie Bradshaw.

Here to pick up, um...

you know... things.

Thanks.

Why are you whispering?

Well, I don't need the whole world knowing

I'm going on the pill.

I don't think the whole
world is in this pharmacy.

But Maggie is.

Hi.

It's funny seeing you here.

- Hi, Carrie.
- Hey, Mouse.

I... I'm just here for some... toothpaste.

I... I'm here because, um...

I... I think I have a cough.

So how are you?

Okay. Good.

You?

Pretty good.

You know, besides... besides the cough.

Yeah.

Well, it was nice seeing you.

Yeah. You, too.

Maybe we can get together
sometime and talk.

Yeah. Def... definitely.

- Um, sometime.
- Good.

Well, then...

Bye.

Bye.

Bye, Mags!

Did you just make plans with her?

I know. It's weird, seeing her.

It's like we're strangers.

It's sad.

I miss her.

She misses you, too.

What is taking so long
with my you-know-what?

Just say it.

Birth control pills.

Carrie, you have issues.

Oh, wow.

I really do!

I do have issues!

I'm afraid to talk about... sex?

I guess now I know what
I'm gonna write about.

I know you two don't exactly get along,

but I want to thank you
both for meeting me here.

This is my office.

You're meeting me here.

Don't get hung up on details.

Anyway, I called this
meeting because you two are

the most confident and
perverted women I know.

You always know how to charm me.

And I'm a little apprehensive

when it comes to talking about sex.

- I've noticed.
- We've all noticed.

Well, I'm going to face that fear head-on

and write an essay about it.

- About sex.
- Hallelujah.

Are you finally gonna give up the goods

on that genius writer of yours?

How's his stamina?

Forget stamina. How's his recovery time?

Uh, uh, good. Good. Yeah.

They're... they're both... very good.

Are you on the pill yet?

Fantastic.

You'll put on 10 pounds, but it
does wonders for the complexion.

Are his man parts magical?

Size? Shape? Maneuverability?

Is he more of a brownstone or a high rise?

What does that even mean?

She needs a frame of reference. Here.

How does Weaver compare to my foot?

Mnh! My eyes! Put that thing away.

Weaver is, uh, it... he's just right.

What's your favorite position?

Have you tried a Moroccan mustache?

Oh, I don't think so. What is that?

Oh. It's like a Moroccan cigar,

except you don't use as
much upper body strength.

A reverse bat cave is my favorite.

- I love a King Henry.
- Yeah, you would.

It's a very subjugated position.

Hey, it takes real
power to give up control.

Last night, Harlan and I...

Wait. Harlan?

Like, Harlan Harlan?
My dad's friend Harlan?

Yes. We're still together.

And like a fine wine,

our sex life has matured
into rich, bold flavors

with a strong plum finish.

Okay, you know what? I
just... I can't. I... I can't.

I... I tried. I did, really.

But I... I think I need to
do a little less research

and a little more, you
know... time thinkin' about it.

Clearly, you're gonna keep coming
around here to visit Carrie.

Are you gonna ban me from the place?

I'm gonna ban those
shoes. They are ghastly.

They're new!

For me, at least.

Did you get them from someone
called Candy, by chance?

No. Her name was Sapphire.

I'm not gonna spend $300 on
a pair of avant-garde shoes

like you do.

And by "avant-garde," I mean "ugly."

I don't buy my shoes,
luv. I get them for free.

Hello! I work at "Interview" magazine.

We have a wardrobe closet.

And if you're gonna
keep hanging around here,

I at least need to look
at something beautiful.

I don't like 'em. They're boring.

They're not boring. They're
just not made of plastic.

Or pleather.

What do you think of these?

The legs or the heels?

Oh, I know the legs are spectacular.

I don't have to ask about them.

Well, the heels are sexy,

- and you are trouble.
- I assume you like trouble.

Samantha,

I see you've already met my beau Harlan.

I didn't know.

I know you didn't. It's okay.

I'm impressed you possess the good taste

- to flirt with him. Hello, darling.
- Hello.

These are for you.

Oh, how sweet!

Oh, my

I thought Barbara delivered
everything for you.

I am so smitten with you

I wanted to go out of my way
to see your gorgeous face.

Mmm. You are so good to me.

But now I have a meeting,
so you'll have to run along.

Oh, I love it when you push me around.

Mm-hmm.

He's so thoughtful. He's always
taking care of me, buying gifts.

I really should do something
nice for him in return.

I think it would be fun to
keep a man like that happy.

You're adventurous, right?

That's one word for it.

I'll pretty much go anywhere with anyone.

Well, how about with me and Harlan?

My only rule would be

you'd have to wear the shoes of my choice.

But I thought you hated me.

Oh, these things always
go much more smoothly

with people you don't have an affinity for.

Agreed.

Some of the hottest sex of my life

has been with people I can't stand.

And I definitely can't stand you.

Perfect. So you're in then?

For a threesome with you and Harlan?

Absolutely.

A threesome? No, I don't have threesomes.

I have m?nage ? trois.

Hey. Wanna join me?

Why?

I've been wanting to tell you something.

I broke it off with that Vicky chick.

I think she's a little
old to be called a chick.

She's, like... 35.

All right, the point is, it's over.

So if you were planning
on telling Carrie about it,

there's really no reason to now.

Of course this conversation
was leading to Carrie.

It only took you 30 seconds to get there.

Can we talk about something else for once?

Other people exist, too.

I know. So sit, and let's talk.

Carrie has a boyfriend now anyway,

so I doubt she'd even
care about you and grandma.

I didn't know.

Someone from Manhattan, of course.

Makes sense.

Mouse told me he's a writer.

Well, that's cool.

I guess they have a lot in common then.

Probably.

What are you doing out here?

Avoiding the riveting
college prep senior assembly.

Yeah. Me, too.

You're not planning on going to college?

Well, my parents will
just buy my way into one,

so it really doesn't matter what I do.

It's not that anyone notices.

Our lives are so totally different,

but it's like we're in
the exact same place.

In the hall, skipping the assembly?

Yes, but...

more the fact that
everyone just ignores us.

Except my parents can't
afford to buy me in anywhere.

So I won't go to college,
and nobody will really care.

You must care.

Eh. It'll be fine.

I'll probably just...

follow in my mother's
footsteps and marry some cop.

I thought your parents hated each other.

Don't everyone's?

Good point.

Being a cop's wife, it's not, um...

it's not so bad.

Mm. It's much warmer today
than I thought it would be.

Yeah. Indian summer.

You okay?

Mm-hmm. I think it's too hot in here.

I'm not feeling the best.

You need me to take you home or something?

No.

I just think I need to get out of here.

Okay.

Feel better.

Where you going?

To write.

Do you mind if I use your typewriter?

Does this mean you found
your topic for your essay?

It does.

Bye-bye, writer's block.

Thanks to your advice,

I found the topic that pushes
me most out of my safety zone...

sex.

What? What are you thinking?

Nothing.

I know that face.

Just tell me.

It's just that...

I mean, sex is such a base topic.

But look, you're so smart and funny

and you're such a good writer.

You don't need to go for the cheap score.

"Cheap"? You didn't.

Come on. Sex is on par

with... with fart jokes
and "page six" gossip.

Well, I think fart jokes can be funny.

And you know I love "page six."

But... but, Carrie, it's just... you're better
than this, babe. Your writing is better than this.

Well, not all of us are gonna win a Tony.

Listen, write about sex if you want,

but... but put it in that journal of yours.

I know you've put a lot
of thoughts in there.

But for a prestigious class? No.

You said I should trust my instincts,

but now you're telling me
my instincts are... are bad?

Look, writing is... it's a long
process. It takes hard work.

You shouldn't just go with the first idea

that pops into your head.

The history of trains was my first idea.

This is my second idea.

I really put a lot of thought into this.

Hey. Don't be mad.

I'm not mad.

I just need to take my pill.

I have to take it at
the same time every day.

Carrie...

Hey, this class is a major deal.

All right, Professor Tenley
knows everyone in this business.

Editors, publishers.

So I'm telling you, if you
can make this essay amazing,

it'll go a long way.

If you mess it up, you're kind of done.

Well, that's really harsh.

I'm not trying to scare you.

Well, you are,

so thanks a lot.

Look, I just wanna remind you

that this essay could
be make-or-break.

So you sure you want it to be about sex?

Don't worry. I will help you brainstorm.

While Weaver was making me feel insecure

about my topic of sex,

Maggie was facing the
consequences of unsafe sex.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Think Allen Ginsberg,

Ayn Rand, John Howard Griffin.

Think... think demons, despair, desolation.

I'm thinking I need to take a walk.

- Nope.
- No?

No breaks at writer's boot camp.

I just need, like, five minutes to myself

and get some air.

No, there's plenty of air in here.

Procrastination time is over.
Now it's digging in time.

But all you're doing is paralyzing me.

My mind is mush.

Then we have to keep turning those screws

until your soul hurts and
an idea appears on the page.

Hmm?

Okay, now picture yourself at Walden Pond,

building your own cabin...

Weaver and I were in this together,

when all I wanted was to be alone.

Simon, not now.

Well, then when?

I don't have a lot of time.

I need to tell you something. Um...

I'm just gonna say it. I'm pregnant.

Well, is it mine?

How do you know?

I took a test.

I mean, how do you know that it's mine?

I know because I haven't
been with anybody else.

This was not supposed to happen.

Listen, I know that I'm young,

but under the circumstances,
I'm sure that my parents would

give us permission to be together.

We can work it out.

Maggie, I'm engaged.

But you're always saying
how much you care about me.

I do.

So... break it off with
her so we can be together.

She's not pregnant with
your... your baby. I am.

She's also never seen
the back of my squad car.

Well, I'm sure that my
father would love to know

that you feel that way about me.

What I meant was that
you... knew what this was.

A fun, secret fling, that's all.

I mean, I know that you don't
want to have a baby right now,

ruin the rest of your life.

So what are you saying, that
I should get an abortion?

'Cause I don't have 700 bucks. Do you?

I share a bank account with
my fianc?e. It would be hard.

Wow.

So I'm just on my own.

I don't know what else to tell you.

Thanks for the support.

So do you think you have a decent grasp

on the deal points for the Banes merger?

Absolutely.

Good, because I'm gonna have to
duck out of our business dinner

a little early tomorrow night,
so you'll need to take over.

Really? Something more important come up?

Yep.

I'm having a threesome.

Uh, not at all what I expected to hear.

- Really?
- What does one say? Uh, congrats?

I'll take "you're the man!" Because I am.

Uh, does Barbara put this
sort of thing in your planner?

Of course. It's listed
under "client relations."

Oh, please tell me it's
not with an actual client.

What do you think, I have no integrity?

I'm terrified of going
back to Bennet's place.

It's like the seventh level of hell.

You can hear gunshots.

I know that area. It's the worst.

Larissa scouted there for a photo shoot,

and before they even got test shots,

the camera was stolen.

Well...

I made plans with Bennet to
have dinner there this weekend

and help put up his herb ritts photos.

But I think I'm too afraid to go back.

You just need to arm yourself
with mace or brass knuckles

or nunchakus or something.

Safety is the most important thing.

Really, lady?

Because I don't see you
taking your own advice.

You need a version of mace, too,
and it's called a safety school.

We're not talking about
me. We're talking about you.

Well, everyone needs to feel safe.

Unless, of course, you're a writer,

in which case you have to
walk around tormented 24/7.

At least you have an essay topic now.

Nope. Weaver hated my idea.

Yikes. That must've made you feel terrible.

Yeah, at first.

But I think it's gonna
be good in the long run.

I mean, I've learned a
lot from him. It's intense.

We're both writers, in
our heads all the time,

just over-thinking.

But, uh, we really get each other.

And I've never been so
focused on my writing before.

You know, I... I think he's bringing out

the best version of me.

Really? Because you seem really tense.

Well, that's because
this version has no idea

what she's going to write about,

so she kind of sucks
and is totally panicked.

And needs to figure it out immediately

or she's gonna get an "F" on her essay

and then fail the class and
then never work as a writer

and then fall into a shame spiral

and then end up living
homeless on Bennet's block.

This version makes me feel anxious.

Anxious is good.

Anxious will help me write...

I hope.

Whoa.

Oh. Sorry.

I'll survive.

What exactly are you doing in here?

Uh, you mean besides throwing
paper balls at people?

Let me guess. You're writing a
paper for Mr. Bramble's class?

Actually, it's an essay
for this class I'm taking

at the new school.

You got in there? That's big.

Yeah. I guess it is.

So why do you seem so miserable?

Uh... because it's really stressful.

And this essay is just killing me.

Oh, yeah? What's it about?

I don't know yet, and that's the problem.

I'm no expert at writing, but I do know

you have a way of looking
at life like nobody else.

That's what makes you so special.

I'm not special.

We both know that's not true.

So stop worrying and just
write. You'll find it.

Oh, and, Bradshaw,

write something that makes you smile.

I turned in my essay.

- Really?
- Yep.

I decided to write about sex.

Looks like fall has finally arrived.

Here.

Take this.

Thanks.

I respect your decision.

- You do?
- Yeah.

Lots of people told me not to
write about my brother's death,

but I did it anyway.

And now I'm the "it" guy.

I just hope I'm not a part

of what makes talking
about sex scary for you.

No, not at all.

It's not about you. It's about me

and all the weird details
I can't help but notice.

Like what?

Like...

When we're having sex at your place...

If the window is open,

then the guy across the way can hear us.

Which... I think he wants to hear us,

which makes me not want him to hear us.

So then we close the
window, but it gets too hot.

So then we turn on the air conditioning,

and there's this weird draft over your bed

that hits one of my legs, and I get cold.

So we open the window again,

and we're right back where we started.

Well, I... I had no idea
any of that was going on.

Welcome to my mind.

Oh, it's... it's very funny stuff.

Thanks.

I mean, it's not like

I'm gonna make a living
off of it or anything.

But I find it satisfying to write about.

Having sex in a city with so
many people crammed together,

it makes for some pretty
odd situations, I think.

Seems like you've found your voice.

And it's extremely clever. I'm
happy you didn't listen to me.

Me too.

I just wish you hadn't filled me
with so many doubts for a week.

Oh come on, a week is nothing.

Try years. And self-doubt,

is a part the writing process.

It makes a writer more interesting.

Yeah. No, I... I get it.

Being tortured is part
of being a good writer.

But if you knew how much
I doutb myself already,

you wouldn't have felt
the need to chime in.

Babe, you... you just
need to constantly dig.

You can't go too deep.

But maybe I don't want my boyfriend to be

the guy cranking the
rack in my head dungeon.

Maybe I want my boyfriend to be the one

who makes me feel safe and cocooned.

Well, do you want to be comfortable,

or be good?

Can't... can't I be both?

Not if you want to write
stuff that really matters.

Suddenly, I realized
this itchy coat and Weaver

were the same thing...

they made me feel
uncomfortable in my own skin.

Hey, you.

Everything okay, Mags?

While Walt was worried about his safety...

So was Larissa.

Meow.

And another couple was
heading towards danger.

Somehow we both keep
ending up together and alone

at the same time.

Somehow? You showed up at my house again.

Maybe it's us against the world.

I like the sound of "us."

Here.

I'm... I'm fine.

Why don't you wear it? You're freezing.

Because I... I would rather be cold

than be in something
that doesn't feel right,

and... and this doesn't feel right.

Is "this" us?

I don't know.

Maybe it's because we're so similar,

because we're both writers,

because we think too much,

because we're always doubting.

I... I just...

I don't want everything
to be so... uncomfortable.

You don't want to really look at yourself,

but that's what makes a good writer.

I hear you.

And I'm grateful that you taught me

being unsafe is part
of being a good writer.

But I don't think it's part of
being in a good relationship.

What is a good relationship?

Being with a guy who doesn't challenge you?

No, but it's not being with
someone who relishes doing that.

Okay, you... you can try
to blame all this on me,

but our relationship never stood a chance

since you never stopped
comparing it to your old one.

And I... and I know exactly who the "he" is

who makes you feel all cozy.

What do you mean?

Sebastian?

I... I may have read more of your journal

than I originally let on,

and I saw his name in there a lot.

Even when you mentioned me,
it was in comparison to him.

I... I remember one line you wrote

about how we weren't gonna see
each other for a whole week...

"it's nice to finally miss someone new."

Very poetic.

But you were still referencing him.

It... it was always really about him.

But isn't that what people do?

Compare their new relationships
to their past ones?

I guess,

but you're supposed to feel like

the new relationship you're in is better.

You obviously don't.

This shouldn't be happening.

Why not?

C... Carrie's with someone
else. What do you care?

Carrie doesn't even care-rie about you.

I mean, care.

Carrie.

This isn't about Carrie.

So what's it about?

You're a mess, Mags.

And even forgetting about Carrie

and all the screwed up history we have,

I would never take advantage

of any girl who is clearly this drunk.

I'm not... I'm not that drunk.

What's going on with you, Maggie?

Nothing.

What do you mean?

You're obviously going through something.

And you showed up here. So
just tell me. What is it?

I'm...

I'm pregnant.

I didn't plan on jumping
you. I... I just couldn't...

take another minute just
freaking out about myself.

I have no one.

I... I... I have no money,
and Simon won't help me.

Well, how... how do you
know? Did you talk to him?

Yes. He doesn't want
anything to do with me.

How am I gonna... how am
I gonna tell my parents?

My dad is gonna kill me.

What am I gonna do?

Uh, you're gonna stay here
tonight and sleep this off.

When you wake up, we'll figure
out what your choices are...

together.

Look. I'm almost done.

Wow. I'm impressed.

But I...

I thought you were gonna
be in the city tonight.

Um, I was,

but it got too cold, so
I decided to come home.

All right. Well, it's nice
to see you here for a change.

Mm.

So what are the piles?

Uh, these are Mouse's shirts,

that's my donating pile, and that's

my "burn because I'm
embarrassed I ever wore it" pile.

What's this pile?

Uh, that's my "I haven't decided yet" pile.

Okay.

Hey, um...

don't throw everything
away. You might regret it.

I once saw your mom actually buying back

some of the stuff that she had donated.

- Really?
- Yeah.

You know what?

It doesn't hurt to hang on
to some things from your past.

You might not think much of 'em now,

but maybe someday you might want them back.

Sometimes you are very wise.

Tell that to Dorrit.

Hey, dad, do you mind if
I borrow your car tonight?

Sure. Yeah. Um, keys are downstairs.

It's scary putting on something
you never want to take off,

but sometimes you have to
play with fire to stay warm.

I still don't understand
how you did this to yourself.

All right, since when do you carry mace?

Since you moved here.

Really?

This neighborhood scares
the hell out of me.

So I bought mace for protection.

And then I was way too on
edge to even use it properly.

Oh, my God. That is the
sweetest thing I've ever heard.

You came back over here even though

you were that scared for your life?

Yeah.

But turns out, I'm my own worst enemy.

Well, I don't want you to be scared ever.

You don't have to come back here.

We'll figure something out.

You know what? I'm not afraid anymore.

You're not?

I mean, out there is a horror show.

But in here,

I've never felt safer.

And to feel this...

I want to come back,

again and again,

because I love you.

Walt.

I love you, too.

And I promise next time I'll get
you a gypsy cab to come here...

if any of them even will.

Yeah.

Here. Let me get this right here.

I can't believe it.

Harlan is still, like, an hour away,

stuck in traffic in the tunnel.

Ah! And if you're gonna make a joke

about him being stuck in a tunnel,

don't.

But what a waste of a perfectly
good pair of handcuffs.

Ugh. Forget the handcuffs.
What about my rose petals?

It's probably for the best.

You wouldn't have been able to handle me.

Excuse me?

You think I can't handle you?

I've done a green door special...

twice.

Big deal.

Try it in a hot tub... with
a pro basketball player.

You lowlife slag.

Pretentious bitch.

Larissa and Samantha tried
to outdo each other...

While doing each other.

Wait!

Won't Harlan mind us
doing this without him?

Yeah. Good point.

Okay.

Now this way,

he'll get to keep the memories forever.

Suddenly, I had no cocoon at all.

And I had never felt less safe.

I don't know how either of
them can live with themselves.

Sebastian and Maggie
aren't doing anything wrong.

I've practically been
ignoring them both for months.

What did I think was gonna happen?

They both moved on, and
I guess I should've, too,

but I just couldn't.

Are you regretting breaking up with Weaver?

No.

I mean, self-doubt might help my writing,

but it doesn't help my living.

I'm sorry it didn't work out.

I'm happy I took the
leap towards Sebastian,

even if my heart is in a million pieces.

Just because you want something
doesn't mean you get it.

That was directed at me, right?

Because I won't choose a safety school.

What?

You're right.

I'm an idiot.

I didn't see that coming.

That's because I'm never an idiot.

I'm going to apply to a safety school.

I'll get an application for N.Y.U.

Hey! That's my first choice!

Hey. How you feelin'?

Awful.

Embarrassed.

Awful.

Thanks.

Listen to me.

Whatever you decide to
do, I'll be here for you.

I'll help however I can.

Why?

Because we're friends,

and friends take care of each other.

Thank you.

Mm. So much.

But won't helping me
possibly hurt your chances

of getting Carrie back?

I don't think it'll matter anymore.

There's no way we're
gonna finish those bagels.

They're enormous.

I have an idea.

Excuse me, sir?

Would you like a bagel?

I don't like cream cheese!

Well, that happened.

I can't bel... I don't even want to look.

It's all over. Don't look. It... no.

It's all over your... sweater.

As children, we are taught
not to talk to strangers,

not to run into the street,

not to play with fire.

But as we get older,

always staying safe can
prevent us from experiencing

all of what life has to offer.

If you never take risks,

you don't really get a
chance to live at all.

And what's the fun in that?

In love, you want to feel safe.

You should feel safe.

But as a writer,

you're supposed to run towards the danger

instead of away from it.

You're also supposed
to write what you know.

and even though I'd gotten
a pretty good grade...

I didn't know enough about
sex or love or this city

to ever write about any of them...

ever again.