Spoiler Alert

[Ed. Note: Today I’m going to discuss the “Sex and the City” movie. If you're a chick that hasn't seen it yet – stop reading. If you’re a dude that wants nothing to do with the idea, then go shave your balls or check your fantasy baseball stats and come back tomorrow. Thank you, drive through.]

For obvious reasons, I love “Sex and the City.” I have loved it since its inception. I’ve drawn plenty of comparisons to Carrie Bradshaw in my day, especially back in college when I wrote a column for the local paper called “Champaign Sex on Beer Money.” I’ve also been compared to Samantha Jones, more often than not when I was doing “research” to write said column. I can’t say that anyone has ever called me Charlotte York or (thank God) Miranda Hobbes, though they certainly did their parts in Candace Bushnell’s delightful storyline. But for the most part, I’m a Carrie.

And really, what girl doesn’t identify with Carrie? She’s the quintessential city girl, looking for love and a great pair of shoes. Ever toeing the line between sexual and slutty, Ms. Bradshaw was on a journey of self-discovery. She never stopped trying to figure out what she wanted. As it turned out, she wanted the same thing we all wanted her to have. His name was Mr. Big and he represented that seemingly unattainable ideal that drives women crazy.

I think every girl has had her Big. He’s the one that you can never seem to pin down. He’s the one that doesn’t return your calls in a timely fashion. And in a way, you don’t really want him to. He’s the exact reason my colorist Kelly once said that “women are crazy.” We think we want a Steve, or even an Aidan…but in the end, we’ll kill ourselves to get Big.

Allow me to digress, for a moment, from “Sex and the City” to borrow from another great (albeit far less cerebral) achievement in women’s entertainment: “The Hills.” The notorious pseudo-philosopher Lauren “LC” Conrad once said, “I think that everyone can change if the right person comes along...and I think that every girl wants to be the right person. Every girl wants to be the one girl that can change that guy.” Yup, that sounds about right.

To her credit, Carrie rarely compromised herself to be with Big. Even in the movie, when he (sorta) proposed, and she started to organize their wedding, she didn’t balk when he freaked out about her ornate plans. Apparently, that was her downfall, although I think we all knew they had to keep the “are they or aren’t they?” going for 145 minutes so we’d get the big “of course they are” payoff in the end. And we did. Carrie and Big seemingly lived Happily Ever After…at least until the inevitable sequel. With an opening weekend of $55.7 million, you can bet your sweet ass there’s going to be a sequel. Sarah Jessica Parker’s got a kid (and an ambiguously gay husband) to feed. Anyways...

Now how does all of that relate to my own life (because, really, when do I not relate everything to my own life?) Well, I’ve had a Mr. Big. He’s the one I don’t like to talk about. And boy, did I try to change him. He fought me every step of the way. And while, like Carrie, I didn’t compromise who I was, I did compromise on what I wanted. In hindsight, that’s why I never got it. If, when things don’t go your way, you start to chip away at your own list of needs and must-haves, then you’re going to end up with something that is substandard to what you deserve. Even when Mr. Big got gun-shy and left Carrie at the alter, she didn’t back down. She licked her wounds, reorganized her life, and moved on. Because of that (and because it’s a movie) he came back.

Just as we want the man that doesn’t change everything about himself to be with us, I think most men want the same thing. Thus, I know when I meet my next Mr. Big that the girl he falls for needs to be the girl I am. Not a convoluted version tailored to meet his needs, but rather just plain old me, warts-and-all…or, in Carrie’s case, moles-and-all. And if/when the Big Day with my Mr. Big finally comes, I’ll know that we got there because we share a mutual respect for each other’s true selves. Neither one of us will have accommodated the other any more than we felt naturally inclined to do so. My Big will show up, and so will I, with my best friends wearing fabulous dresses by my side and me, minus the stupid blue bird thingie Carrie was wearing, playing the part of the bride.

The End.

xo