Manhattan for everyone…
I love sex and the city. More than any other tv show. In fact, I would choose it over any other show — hands down, everytime.
The characters, the settings, the storylines — the whole concept is not relateable to my life.
I am not in my thirties, I am not a serial dater, I don’t have a designer dominant wardrobe and I would kill for a single manolo let alone a closet full of them.
What I do have is a group of amazing friends and very open conversations with them about life, sex and everything else in between. Nothing is off topic, we can go from talking about the weather to vadazzaling without an eyelash battered.
My life sure isn’t carries, but in a lot of ways I wish it was. I have the same lack of luck in the love department, I have maxed out credit cards and unruly hair — yet I would swap with her in a heartbeat. There have been days where I felt as if she is my only allie in this world. Days I couldn’t get
out of bed and face the world but the girls where always there for me.
I know it’s a tad deranged — and well, maybe I am a little insane — but I can honestly say my life is better because ofthe show. Sex was always a taboo subject and with my family and peers it still is, but it has opened the floodgates for us to talk to our friends about every aspect, from the boring same old positions to kinky ideas to spice it up.
Partners are nicknamed to avoid embarassment; for both him and her. But nothing else is censored.
For someone who trusts so little it’s amazing the trust I have in my gal pals to share these stories; happy or horror; and for the nerve to do so I have to thank my first gal pals carrie, Samantha and charlotte.
But not Miranda, I don’t think I would like her in the real world. Whinging minger.
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