OK, I gotta go.
Have a good day. Give me a kiss.
Bye-bye.
One unfortunate thing
about ending a relationship
in a city like New York
is while you can emotionally
move away from each other,
you physically can't.
Going to work?
Yeah, work.
- Sorry about waking you.
- What time is it?
- 6:30.
- Jesus. Why so early?
I got a brief due, so...
There was nothing brief about it.
Steve and Miranda had been doing
the polite avoid-each-other
break-up-dance for three weeks.
I'm sorry it's taking me so long
to find a place.
I got a lead on one, though.
OK.
Hey, do you... Never mind.
What?
I was gonna ask if you'd look at it
with me,
but that's weird, right?
- I don't know. We could do that.
- Yeah?
When you find that place to move,
you need to fill it with furniture.
That's why smart New Yorkers
frequent the opening day
of the New Designer showcase.
I'm like your roady.
I don't have a road.
I just have this booth.
- At best, you're my booth-bitch.
- Yeah, I'm your booth-bitch.
I wax your wood.
You wax it real good.
That's because I'm your booth-bitch.
You watch the booth.
I'm going to get us some coffee.
Whatever you say.
I'm your booth-bitch.
That's sexy. I like it.
I didn't need
a blue-ribbon panel to decide -
he was the finest new designer
in the whole place.
I'd often fantasized
about running into my ex and his wife,
but in those fantasies
I was running into them with a truck.
I don't know how you could like
this clunky wood. It's oppressive.
- What the f*ck?
- Hi.
Hi. I'm working here.
I mean, I'm not working.
This is my boyfriend's booth.
I'm his booth-bitch.
- That's a joke. Guess it's an in-joke.
- I get it.
So. Can I show you something
in a hutch?
His pieces are fantastic.
It's just not really our style.
No. We only like teeny-tiny furniture.
This is the designer.
This is Aidan Shaw.
Great stuff.
Thanks, man.
- Oak?
- It's mostly maple.
There we were. Mostly maple
and incredibly uncomfortable.
- Sorry, I didn't get your names.
- Oh, I'm sorry.
These are my friends.
This is Natasha, and this is...
sh*t. Sorry, is that hot?
It ain't cold.
- Here.
- No, I'II...
- We should put cold water on this.
- OK.
It was nice meeting you.
Thanks for the coffee.
- They seem nice.
- Yeah, don't they?
- Where do you know them from?
- From around.
Like 100 years ago.
It's a past life.
Two hours later,
it was time for the opening-day party.
It was lovely. Caviar, silent auctions,
and landmines.
Where's Paul Bunyan?
If you're referring to my boyfriend -
he's doing business.
Ooh, he's a big 'un!
Where did he learn to whittle like that?
How many drinks
have you had?
Not nearly enough.
So... How are you?
I'm great.
And Daniel Boone, is he a nice guy?
His name is Aidan.
- Where is your sense of humor?
- Where is your wife?
Guarding her bid on the silent auction.
She's got her eye on a beige chair.
Everything in my apartment
is now beige.
Beige is bullshit.
I thought you wanted beige.
Yeah, well... It doesn't quite fit.
- Have you got a smoke?
- I quit.
We always used to share
a cigarette together.
We did a lot of things
that were bad for me together.
I have a secret
to tell you.
It's not working.
I'm getting out.
If you know anyone
who's interested...
You should keep that to yourself.
No one wants that information.
- Big's leaving his wife.
- No!
- He told me at the furniture show.
- What was he doing there?
- Drinking and leaving his wife.
- Oh, my God.
- Let's just say it. You won.
- Was there a contest?
There's always a contest with an ex.
It's called "Who'll Die Miserable?".
- What did he say?
- He said, "It's not working out."
Then he leaned in and said, "If you
know anyone who's interested..."
You don't know anyone
who is interested. He's married.
- I'm aware of that.
- Why is he telling you?
To save postage on his newsletter?
- What are you gonna do?
- Nothing.
- She's not gonna do anything.
- You're starting to bug me.
How dare he say that to you?
Married men never leave their wives.
Even if he did, I have no intention
of doing anything for two reasons -
I have a great boyfriend,
and I'm not insane.
Let's order. What do winners order?
- Didn't you feel like punching him?
- No. It was too sad or something.
- I would have punched him.
- No, it is sad.
How long has he been married?
Seven months?
The seven-month itch.
That's what happens when people
jump into relationships too quickly.
I resent that. Trey and I
are nothing like Big and Natasha.
Don't listen to her.
She's mid-break-up.
- Thanks for the update.
- Trey and I really love each other.
Who wants to split a Rubin?
I'm meeting his mother this week,
and if all goes well...
If all goes well what?
Trey is this close to proposing.
I can feel it.
Oh, my God. Really?
You've just met.
I've had pairs of pantyhose longer.
It's not logical. This is love.
It's not logical.
It's right, in my heart. I feel it's right.
OK, whatever.
So, how did he look?
OK. I'll take it.
As Miranda looked around,
she realized the contest was over.
Steve was the ex that was
going to die alone and miserable.
- You can't live here.
- It's not that bad.
It's not that bad?
It's the doorway to hell.
There's gotta be a better place.
I'll help you look.
- Guilt?
- Probably.
I broke up with him, and he's got
no money, no savings, no nothing.
There should be a city-funded
break-up housing for those in need.
Really?
A big orphanage where old boyfriends
could think about what they did wrong
and cry themselves to sleep
in a clean, safe environment.
You think you don't really
want him to move away?
It's not that simple.
My head tells me it's time
for him to leave, but the idea of him
moving into a basement apartment
in West sh*t Street breaks my heart.
It's a common belief that women use
the left, emotional side of their brain
and men the right, more logical side.
But is it really that cut and dry?
When it comes to affairs of the heart,
there's a battle between
what we know and what we feel.
What do you do in a situation
that leaps back and forth
between the left and right side?
In relationships, is it smarter
to follow your heart or your head?
This is Trey when he graduated
from medical school.
Later that week, Charlotte met
the head and heart of Trey's family -
his mother,
Bunny MacDougal.
Trey, you look so cute
in a cap and gown!
That was before we jumped
in the fountain and hell broke loose.
What's next -
boy scout snaps?
Count your blessings I didn't bring
the one on the bearskin rug.
You'll have to excuse her.
She's a bit of a camera n*zi.
If you insist on dragging us
down memory lane,
I'm getting a real drink.
Excuse me, a Glenlivet rocks, please.
Maybe you should have a red wine
instead. Better for the heart.
- All righty.
- Red wine.
Thomas, we'd love some more
nibbly cheese things.
- Very good, ma'am.
- Thank you.
He's older than water,
but never forgets a martini.
- Do you play tennis?
- Mm-hm.
I like her.
Join the club.
- What are you two doing tonight?
- We've got reservations at Cloche.
I was there last week. Disappointing
crab and the host was rude.
Maybe you should go
to C?te Basque instead.
All righty.
Charlotte was impressed
with Bunny's technique.
Trey had been looking forward
to Cloche all week.
Meanwhile, downtown, Samantha was
entertaining Adam Ball, a film editor
who made a living cutting coming
attractions for film companies.
Coming.
I'm coming.
Oh, man!
You give good head.
I'm dating a guy
with the funkiest tasting spunk.
And she's never coming back.
Sorry, but who else
can I talk to about this?
- Might I suggest, no one?
- You're my girlfriends. Help me.
- Have you ever had this problem?
- Not really.
But I have to admit it's never been
a trip to Baskin-Robins.
This guy is very sour. Like asparagus
gone bad or something.
Can I cancel my rice pudding?
Beautiful guy, great in bed,
it's so disappointing.
It's like a bad bottle of Beaujolais
Nouveau the first day of season.
It's to do with nutrition. I once dated
a smoker. It affected how his tasted.
They should put that
on the pack to cut back sales.
Maybe there's something he could eat
to make it sweeter.
- You should write to Martha Stewart.
- Dear Martha, funky spunk, help!
Dear funky spunk, try a hint of mint.
It's not just asparagus.
It's asparagus and something else.
I know: Clorox.
- At least it'll get your whites whiter.
- This is serious. I almost gagged.
- That is serious.
- What am I gonna do?
- Just don't give him head again.
- I never even thought of that.
Casual head is back now?
It's fine. He's healthy,
and I don't swallow.
As long as you and the center
for disease control are fine with it.
He loves getting head,
but what man doesn't?
If the come-situation were reversed,
do you think men would go near it?
Maybe.
If it tasted like beer.
Miranda came home to something
that was even harder to swallow.
You have one new message.
Hi. If this is Steve's number...
This is Barbara. We met last night.
I'm the advertising exec.
Steve, if this is you, call me.
I'd love to go to a movie sometime.
Today, 12:22 pm.
And on an answering machine
across town...
You have one new message.
Hi, it's me. I need to talk to you
about what I said the other day.
It's important.
You know my cell number.
The right side of my brain
told me to delete it.
But I left it.
It's important.
You know my cell number.
Seven playbacks later,
I invited an impartial judge.
- Well?
- You should have punched him.
He wants to get back together, right?
That's the tone.
The "Hi" and the "It's important".
Is that what it means?
We will never know. They still
don't know who k*lled Kennedy.
- What should I do?
- It's obvious what you want to do
or you wouldn't listen to it and what
happened to the sane part of you?
I don't know. After the fifth playback
he got in a little.
- I hate my machine.
- Yeah.
I hate mine too.
Steve got a message from a girl
desperate for him to go to a movie.
- Already? He's still on your couch.
- I know. It's amazing.
A 34-year-old guy
with no money and no place to live
because he's single,
he's a catch.
But a 34-year-old woman
with a job and a great home
because she's single,
is considered tragic.
Depressing.
Let's listen to that message again.
I'm deleting it.
But it wasn't that simple.
As soon as Miranda left, my emotions
overruled both sides of my brain.
- Hello?
- It's Carrie.
Oh, hey. Thanks for calling.
It's about getting out of my marriage.
I didn't know why I called
or what I wanted,
but suddenly my heart was racing.
I thought about it,
and it's going to cost me a lot.
You should forget about what I said.
I made my bed, I should lie in it.
You do that.
It was what I needed. A shock
treatment to jolt me back to sanity.
- You have cracks.
- Excuse me?
The ceiling.
How long have they been there?
- Just three years.
- Oh, just three years?
Don't take this the wrong way,
but this place could use a little work.
I can't afford it.
- You got 8,000 bucks worth of shoes.
- I needed those.
You could do little things -
plaster, strip the floors...
You have no idea how beautiful
it would be if we took it down a level.
I don't know how to do that stuff.
I do.
- Let me strip your floors.
- Isn't that a lot of work?
No. It'll just take a day.
You won't know I'm here.
Sure? Really?
A special lady needs a special home.
Here am I with a guy
who wanted to make my home better.
Somewhere out there was a guy
who wanted to pull it apart.
It wasn't a left or right-brainer,
it was a no-brainer.
- Tell me why we're here again.
- I'm making an effort to eat better.
Samantha invited Adam Ball to dinner.
OK, here are your wheat grass sh*ts.
I'll be right back with the menus.
- I can't drink that.
- Try it. It's very good for you.
Bottoms up.
That sh*t is funky!
Samantha fought the urge not to tell
Adam Ball he didn't know from funky.
How long does it take for wheat grass
to work into your system?
- Hard to say.
- Ballpark.
An hour and a half.
We should order.
An hour and a half,
two wheat grass sh*ts
and a ginger-melon smoothie later,
I'm coming.
I'm coming.
Man, man, man, you give good head.
Oh, babe.
What? You don't like your salad?
No. The dressing's a tad... something.
Excuse me, I'd like to change this
for the rucola and endive.
You should try the tomato basil.
It's sweeter.
All righty.
- Mom was quite taken with you.
- She is?
Why wouldn't she be?
You're exquisite.
You are a dream come true.
Charlotte knew this was the moment,
that magic moment where Trey
was going to ask her to be his wife.
- Charlotte.
- Yes?
- Tomato and basil?
- Yes.
Enjoy.
Doesn't this look
like a little plate of heaven?
This basil is perfection.
What is it about you Charlotte?
You always know just what I want.
- Maybe we should get married.
- All righty.
- I'm engaged.
- Oh, my God. Really?
- That's wonderful, sweetie.
- I proposed to myself.
- What?
- Yes.
I suggested he have a tomato salad,
then I suggested we get married.
What did he say?
"All righty."
"All righty"?
He said, "All righty"?
The upsetting thing is proposing
to a guy who says "all righty".
Stop.
- All righty.
- I was the one supposed to say yes.
- Who cares about those stupid rules?
- I do.
You're overreacting.
You love Trey, right?
And you want to marry him, right?
Yes, but there was no kneeling.
There was no ring, no nothing.
This is an awful engagement story.
What am I supposed to tell my kids?
Mommy really wanted to get married,
so Daddy said, "All righty".
So unromantic.
Steve? The dog!
Steve. It's 4:00 am.
Miranda realized
he was with the girl executive.
It was officially over.
She finally got it into her head.
- Morning.
- Morning.
- I took the dog out already.
- Thanks. I was...
There's coffee, and I circled a bunch
of apartments that sound good.
I'll get out of here today. Thanks for
letting me sleep on your couch.
You're welcome.
I think we did pretty good.
We did us proud.
Steve...
- Never mind.
- What?
I was gonna say, "Keep in touch",
but that would be weird.
I guess we could do that.
Aidan.
You said I wouldn't be bothered.
I'm bothered.
- It's too loud?
- Yeah. I've got a deadline.
- Go to my house.
- No, I can't write there.
Pete's jumping all over me.
He's deleting things.
I'm leaving.
I'll be at the Stanhope Hotel.
- At least let me pay for it.
- No, I got it.
This is why I don't do home repairs.
Unforeseen costs.
You'll love these floors.
Mom was beside herself.
She demanded your address...
...so she could send flowers.
- That's nice.
Charlotte had done the impossible
in New York.
She was engaged
to her heart's desire.
Unfortunately, she couldn't get
the way it happened out of her head.
Wait.
I think we should
stop here for a minute.
Maybe we should go in and find you
the most beautiful ring they have.
All righty.
From that moment on,
Charlotte would tell everyone
that in front of Tiffany's, out of
nowhere, Trey popped the question.
And she said, "All righty".
I'm not really in the mood
for that tonight.
Come on, baby,
you give the greatest head. Please.
- It's not gonna happen.
- Why? What's the problem?
Well, Adam...
- You've got funky tasting spunk.
- What?
You heard me.
Your spunk is funky.
- My spunk?
- Come, spooge, jiz, joy juice. Funky.
I've heard bad excuses for not giving
head, but this one takes the cake.
- Excuse me?
- You're a two blow job chick.
They're in the coming attractions
but I'll never see them in the movie.
I resent that. I love giving head.
Then give me a little BJ. Up and down
a couple of times, it's easy.
You men have no idea
what we're dealing with down there.
Teeth placement, jaw stress,
suction, and gag reflex,
all the while bobbing up and down,
moaning and trying to breathe. Easy?
Honey, they don't call it
a job for nothin'.
Now, having said all that,
with the right man it can be fabulous.
That is, unless the man has spunk
that's like the rotten egg buffet.
Come on, it can't be that bad.
I'll make a deal with you.
You try it.
If you're fine with it, I'll be fine with it.
I can't do that. It's gay.
It's not gay, if it's you.
Take it or leave it.
Ten minutes later, Samantha learnt
how far men would go for a blow job.
I'm fine with it.
Samantha kept her word.
She gave him head,
but her heart wasn't in it.
- Hello?
- It's me.
- I'm in the lobby.
- How did you know I was here?
- That guy at your place...
- You called my house again?
- I have to talk to you.
- I have to talk to you too. Stay there.
sh*t.
- This is not the lobby.
- Have a drink.
What are you doing, calling my house,
following me to hotels?
Could you sit down for one minute
and listen to me?
Please. One minute.
I don't have time.
I have a boyfriend and a deadline,
and you have a wife
and a drinking problem.
- I'm not drunk.
- Then what is your excuse?
Slow down, I can't think.
- I was an assh*le the other day.
- Yes.
When I said I was leaving, you didn't
say anything. I got nervous, so...
So, what?
I don't know.
This has to stop - flirting, jerking me
around, calling my boyfriend.
He doesn't know about you,
and I don't want him to.
Why?
Go, lie in your beige bed.
Carrie, wait, wait.
I haven't explained this very well.
Wait a minute. Listen.
The thing is, f*ck, I miss you.
Too bad.
- Do not come in here.
- I have to talk to you.
What? What is it you have to say?
I made a mistake.
f*ck you.
I love you.
f*ck you.
My mind was yelling how angry I was,
but my heart...
f*ck me.
And just like that I lost my head.