I ran into my friend, Skipper, on the street the other day.
He was bruised and frantic. He'd just broken up with another girl.
I mean, I thought everything was going fine.
That's when they tiptoe up and clobber you.
Well, what did she say she thought was wrong?
Skipper, you're a very sweet guy.
I mean, this isn't about anything you did.
It's just that we're in very different places right now.
We want different things from life.
I feel like I need to spend more time alone.
So, actually, we want the same thing.
We both wanna spend more time with you.
Three months before that, it was a dental hygienist named Tiffany.
The timing is wrong, that's all.
You're one of the nicest guys I've ever known.
It's just that I feel like I've reached a time in my life
when I need to focus on my career.
And I don't wanna feel guilty about that.
But I don't want you to give up your career.
I know. I know. You've been great.
You really deserve someone who will appreciate you.
I just don't feel like I have anything to give at the moment.
And last year, it was Miranda.
I feel like I need to spend more time alone.
I've just reached a point in my life where I need to focus on my career.
I just don't think that I have anything to give at the moment.
Skipper, what else can I say?
I have such horrible luck with women.
I totally should've seen this coming, but of course, I didn't.
Because they wait for you to get relaxed and get comfortable
before they bring the ice pick down right between your eyes.
Not all women,
just the types of women you seem to be attracted to.
Yeah. Over and over and over again.
Well, those ladies don't know what they're missing,
and missing and missing.
Skipper's pattern was clear to both of us.
He was a sweet guy who was perpetually attracted to women
who were looking for jerks.
Later that night, on a date across town,
Miranda was repeating a pattern of her own.
She had been dating a lawyer she met when they got into a big fight in court.
A frequent guest on MSNBC, Kevin was not just argumentative,
he was an anger professional.
You know, I think I gotta revise my opinion
that you gotta be an idiot to want to go out to a movie these days.
I mean, it was worth the $19, plus $10 in snacks and water,
just to hear that bus driver behind us explaining filmmaking to his wife.
He certainly had some wonderful insights to share.
But at least, on the bright side, it was an interesting movie, right?
Oh, yeah, right. It was a real Citizen Kane.
Well, I thought the actor who played Carlo was kind of charming.
That moron looked like he walked into work before the anesthesia
wore off from his lobotomy.
All right, all right, I'll just get us a cab, okay?
Taxi!
You gotta face uptown to get a cab around here.
I've caught plenty of cabs this way.
Yeah, in Never-Never land, where people constantly confuse
a complete lack of talent with charm.
Come on, Gene Shalit, get in the damn cab.
Come on.
Get in, sore loser.
Come on, in.
-In, come on. -Jesus!
Miranda hated how he ordered her around and told her what do,
every place except one.
Put your hands up over your head.
Spread your legs.
The weird thing is, when he tells me what to do in life, it drives me crazy.
But when tells me what to do during sex, it really drives me crazy.
-Oh. -It's totally hot!
That looks like a good spot.
Everybody, check for park poo.
I mean, isn't that funny?
That what I hate in life, I love in sex?
So, how about if you limit your contact with him to just sex?
Oh, that's a nice, healthy relationship.
The thing is, I'm not ready yet, to throw in the towel.
No, you're just ready to wrap it around his neck.
He's going through a very stressful time waiting to make partner at his firm.
When that finally works out, I think maybe he'll lighten up a bit.
Or maybe you should face the fact that you're attracted to angry guys.
-Deviled eggs? -Wait a second, hold the eggs!
What about Skipper? He never got angry.
Yeah. And you dumped him. Fits a pattern.
I don't have a pattern.
In math, randomness is considered a pattern.
Yes, and I'm what they call a prime number.
She's got a very obvious pattern, you know?
I do? What? Tell me!
You wait for a perfect guy to ask you on a perfect date--
And when he does, you project this huge fantasy on him,
setting up these enormous expectations--
Which promptly blow up in your pretty little face.
You put all your deviled eggs in one basket, so to speak.
That's a horrible pattern.
Well, spread it around a little more.
Date a few guys at once and then you won't feel so disappointed.
-Are you asking Charlotte to juggle? -It's all about multi-tasking.
None of us can afford to fall into this "one man at a time" pattern.
I mean, look at how much time you wasted with Big.
Yeah, but Big was an aberration.
Next time I meet a handsome, wealthy,
and emotionally unavailable 43-year-old man,
I'll know what to expect.
Will you?
Or will you just make the same mistake all over again?
I wondered,
were we all just victims of conditioned responses?
Doomed to repeat the same unconscious relationship patterns?
Were we all, in fact, just dating
the same person over and over again?
Well, I guess I have dated quite a few artists.
But I don't think they were all the same person.
Okay, yes. They were all narcissists with commitment phobias
and substance abuse issues.
But, in my opinion, the painters were very different from the sculptors.
Handsome waspy assholes who treat me like shit.
I only date girls with Sony Playstations.
Or breasts.
That night, Samantha became acquainted
with the new neighbors next door.
Though she had never met them face to face,
she already knew them intimately.
The idea that someone else was having great sex and flaunting it
was more than she could bear.
So she decided, if you can't join 'em,
beat it.
It all fit Samantha's pattern to a T.
Having a wall between her and the person she was having sex with.
After a few weeks of not seeing Big,
I was beginning to fall into some familiar patterns of my own.
Staying out till 3:00 a.m. and sleeping till noon,
ordering takeout from the same greasy Chinese,
and calling old friends who would always be there for me when I was feeling...
restless.
McFadden.
Hey John, it's Carrie.
Carrie, hey, how are you? Long time.
Yeah, I know. Listen, I thought if you weren't doing anything,
you might want to meet for a drink after work.
Yeah. Sure, that would be great.
How about six-ish?
I could be there about 6:30.
Perfect, I'll see you then.
That evening, at 6:30 sharp,
-Hey! You, too. -Hey. Wow, it's great to see you.
Wow.
Come on in. I was just gonna open up a bottle of red.
Oh, red, yeah, beautiful.
I just... I gotta be somewhere by 8:30.
Oh, that's okay. I've got dinner plans at 8:00.
Okay.
Hm.
John was as dependable a pal as a gal could ever hope for.
Fun, comfortable and easy to be with.
The kind of guy who you could shed all inhibitions
and really be yourself around.
No muss... no fuss.
Phew.
So how's the...
-going? - Great.
It's great.
-How's work with you? -Never dull.
Never dull.
How's your younger sister doing?
Brother.
The one that moved to Phoenix?
-Tallahassee. Yeah. -Right.
So how's he doing down there?
-He's doing great, thanks for asking. -Sure.
And then I realized it.
I didn't have a relationship pattern, I had a between-relationship pattern.
I always went back to John after every devastating,
soul-shattering, gut-wrenching break up.
He was sweet, handsome, uncomplicated.
A real shot in the arm for my sexual self-esteem.
Thanks for the call, gorgeous.
Sure put a cherry on my sundae.
Why had I been keeping him on the bench all these years?
Did I really believe a relationship had to be difficult in order to work?
Hey.
Do you want to have dinner Friday night?
Dinner?
Uh, yeah.
Sure. I should check my schedule, but I think I can make it.
Great.
You want to say, like...
eight o' clock?
How about 8: 15?
And just like that, I broke my pattern.
Carrie, you can't date your fuck buddy.
Say it a little louder. I don't think the old lady in the last row heard you.
You're gonna take the only person in your life that's there purely for sex
no strings attached, and turn him into a human being?
Why?
Excuse me, "fuck buddy"?
What is a "fuck buddy"?
-Oh, come on.
A fuck buddy is a guy you probably dated once or twice,
and it didn't really go anywhere,
but the sex is so great, you sort of keep him on call.
Hm, he's like "dial-a-dick."
You mean you just call this guy up when you're, you know, horny?
-Mm-hm. -Yes.
And he just comes right over?
Well, he's not a slave, sweetheart. He does have a life.
But you don't really have to know about it.
And you're generally guaranteed delivery within Manhattan in six hours or less.
And you guys all have one?
Well, mine moved to Chicago but now we have phone sex.
What's he doing in Chicago?
I have absolutely no idea.
A few moments later, emboldened by our conversation,
and high from too many tantric headstands,
Charlotte asked a man out for the first time.
Man, that class was tough.
I never sweated so much in my entire life.
Would you like to go out to dinner Friday night?
Sure.
I wondered,
if Charlotte could break her pattern and start asking out
every man in Manhattan, why couldn't I start having a deeper relationship
with a man I have shallow sex with?
Wow.
You're all dressy. Yeah.
Well, I guess.
Thanks.
The fact was, I wanted to tell him that he'd never actually seen me in clothes.
Uh, so, do you want a glass of wine first, or...
No, I'm fine, thanks.
-Hey, wait, wait, wait. Wait. -Oh.
-I made reservations. -Huh?
-At a sushi restaurant. -Oh.
Oh, cool. I see.
No! I mean, God!
I mean sushi.
-Japanese food! -Oh!
When you said dinner, you meant dinner.
Yeah.
Oh, no. It's just that, whenever we've had dinner,
we've always, you know--
Yeah, I know. I know.
All right. I'm gonna... I'm just gonna get my purse.
Like most first dates, we were off to an awkward start.
Um, the yellow tail sashimi, two pieces of salmon sushi,
and a spicy tuna hand roll.
Oh, do you like eel?
Uh, no way.
I'll have the chicken teriyaki, well done.
No, the sushi's so amazing here.
No, I just--
I can't deal with the raw stuff. Yeah, it just doesn't work.
Well, why didn't you tell me? We could've gone some place else.
No, don't worry about it. If I'm hungry, I'll grab a burger after.
Okay.
Oh, hey, listen, before I forget,
this is for you.
Oh! Thanks. What is it?
Forty minutes free long distance, continental U.S., no strings attached.
It's to promote our new 7-7-3 service, see?
Seven days, seven hours, $3 a day.
Well. Thank you.
So you, like--
Think these gimmicks up? Sort of. I mean, officially, I sell time.
But I get these incentive minutes which I can distribute at my own discretion.
Oh.
So, if I'm lucky, I might get a whole hour next time?
I don't think so. But if you're
currently an MCI customer and you switch,
then you get two hours for free. Hm?
I was kidding.
Oh. Right, gotcha.
So, maybe we should just order some sake?
Oh, yeah, sure.
Hey, sake to me!
We went back to my place for a quickie.
I needed to erase the stagnant memory of the past two hours.
Was it really possible that someone so stimulating in bed
could be so tedious in life?
Meanwhile, Samantha was actually beginning to look forward
to the company of her new neighbors.
Every night, like clockwork,
right after the end of the 11 o'clock news...
Samantha relished her role as the invisible guest vocalist
to an unseen band.
Until one night, she wasn't so invisible.
That Saturday, Miranda planned for us all
to meet her latest fling for brunch.
Apparently, he had flung himself elsewhere.
He should be here any minute, really.
Hey, don't worry about it. If it's just us, it's fine.
It's not like we've got anywhere else to go.
I do have a date tonight.
-With whom? -That yoga guy.
I asked him out.
-Hm? -Wow, I'm impressed.
You know, once I broke the ice with him, it was just like riding a bike.
I have so many dates this week, that I just scheduled two in one night.
-You double-booked? -Well, I had to.
This one guy was going out of town for three weeks,
and the other guy, I didn't wanna cancel.
So, how do you conceive pulling this one off?
Early dinner with bachelor one, late supper with bachelor two.
My God, you're turning into a man.
Apparently, Charlotte had done more than break a pattern.
She had actually changed genders.
I just don't know how I'm ever gonna eat two dinners in a row.
And then, just like that, she was a woman again.
Sorry, babe.
The idiot who drove me here apparently passed his driving test in Bangladesh.
I'm just happy to get off that fuckin' rickshaw in one piece.
Kevin, this is Carrie, and Samantha and Charlotte.
-This is Kevin. -Oh, it's nice to meet you.
I have to go make a quick phone call, I'll be right back.
Waitress! Draft beer here.
He's cute.
In a tightly wound sort of way.
He's finding out on Tuesday whether he made partner.
I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he'll unwind some after that.
What are you doing?
I just-- I just don't want him going off on the waitress.
That evening, Charlotte set out to break her pattern.
A casual meal with Eric from yoga,
where they discovered a mutual love for long drives up Maine coasts,
and reruns of "Nanny and the Professor".
-She was psychic, wasn't she? -Absolutely.
No, but it was very subtle, very sophisticated.
I don't even think that kids today would understand it.
No.
I'll tell you something, when I have kids,
I'm gonna be a total Nazi with the remote.
I want them to read.
How many kids do you want to have?
Two, one of each.
Sounds perfect.
Just as Charlotte began to swim in visions
of family summers in Kennebunkport,
she realized she was late for the second shift.
Oh, my God.
What's wrong?
My throat is so sore.
I've just been fighting this cold all week.
Let me get the check.
I'm so sorry.
I had a really great time.
Yeah. Me, too.
While Charlotte was off to her next engagement,
Samantha was imagining an engagement of her own.
Excuse me, Jesus!
Hi, I was just wondering,
do you know who lives in that apartment right there?
Yes, yes.
Very nice.
Musician. His wife, a dancer.
Really? And are they... nice looking?
Yes, very nice.
Very good.
Okay, then. Carry on.
Later that night, Charlotte was returning
from a second dinner of steamed mussels and fries with bachelor number two,
an art loving commodities broker.
-I had a really great time. -Me, too.
-Yeah. -Oh.
Excuse me.
So, can I call you?
-Definitely. -Okay.
Charlotte?
Eric, what are you doing here?
I was just leaving you some chicken soup
for your throat.
But I see you've healed.
Who is this guy?
I'm the guy she had dinner with before you.
You-- You double-booked us?
Hey, hey. Don't feel bad, bud.
At least, you got the late shift. I mean, you get to take her upstairs.
I don't think so.
Hey, you know what? Enjoy the soup.
Hey, you going uptown?
-Yeah, West Side. -Wanna share a cab?
Sure.
From that moment on, Charlotte developed a new pattern.
She made it a rule never to take advice from her friends again.
Very late that night,
Samantha decided to roll out the welcome mat for her new neighbors.
The musician and the dancer turned out to be a middle-aged,
Eastern European couple.
He played in a polka band. She was a dancer...
once upon a time.
Samantha?
Would you mind keeping it down?
I'm trying to get some sleep.
Samantha broke a pattern after all.
She decided to move her bed to the opposite wall.
Later that week, Kevin experienced a dream come true.
He was made a full partner of the law firm where he worked.
He took Miranda out to celebrate.
A toast.
-To a very happy occasion. -Oh, yeah.
I'm falling all over myself with glee.
Now I get to work 60 hours a week for pretty much the same salary.
I'm walking on air.
Can't we enjoy your success for one fucking second?
You know, it just pisses me off you don't get how much pressure I'm under.
You really do live in Never-Never land, don't you?
By the way,
if there's a difference between this $100 bottle of champagne
and the crap they sell for 29 bucks,
it takes a more delicate palate than mine to detect it. I don't know.
Well, I like the champagne, and the bread is fabulous.
Oh my God, look at those flowers.
Don't piss me off.
Where are you going?
Back to Never-Never land.
And by the way, never-never call me again.
Have a nice day.
What?
Miranda broke her pattern in a way that she had never expected.
The angry guy had turned her into a cock-eyed optimist.
There could not have been a more perfect moment
for her to run into Skipper for the first time since she dumped him.
Hey, Skipper!
Hey. Slow down a minute.
Hey, you know what? Don't tell me what to do, okay?
I just wanted to say hello. How've you been?
How've I been?
You know, you got a lot of nerve talking to me like nothing happened,
ever since you tossed me out like bad milk.
You know, I'll tell you how I've been. Friggin' wonderful,
now that I've got you out of my system.
Can't I just talk to you for a minute?
Could I buy you a beer or something?
Miranda had never seen him as angry as this before.
Much to her horror, she was attracted.
That's the thing about patterns.
They don't just break because you tell them to.
Have you been working out?
And a few nights later, John and I went out for a movie.
I refused to believe that a passionate sexual connection
could not be translated into a meaningful friendship at the very least.
So, did you like the movie?
-Was it a comedy? -No.
I didn't think so.
Isn't this the most amazing block?
All these brownstones are over 100 years old.
You know, it's like being in the New York
of Edith Wharton and Henry James.
Sometimes, I can't believe how lucky I am to live right here.
What?
Your tits look really great in that thing.
At that moment, I knew we only had two things in common.
Listen, I'd invite you in, but--
Oh, no, that's okay.
I got to be up really early tomorrow. So...
Okay.
I'll call you.
Goodnight.
I knew it was the last time we'd ever see each other.
And just like that,
I was thrown right back into my old pattern,
Greasy Chinese, sleeping till noon,
and feeling restless.