My friend, Miranda, was dating Thomas John Anderson,
an up and coming New York playwright.
Oh, God!
That was wonderful.
Things were going great except for one thing.
I'll be right back.
Immediately after sex,
he'd hop out of bed and shower.
Oh, God!
Wow!
Be right back.
Night after night, it was the same thing.
Oh, God!
-I'll be right-- -Yeah.
She decided to confront Thomas John Anderson
as soon as he dried off.
So, what's with the showers?
What do you mean?
You always get up and shower right after we're done.
I'm starting to feel like it's me.
Oh, no, no, no, it's not you.
It's just...
What?
Just a habit I have.
Growing up, the nuns told us that sex was a sin,
so I just got into the habit of taking a shower after I...
you know, came.
Oh, the nuns.
Miranda suddenly realized she was dating "Catholic guy."
So you think the water serves as
a retro baptism kind of thing?
Beats me, if I'd known he was Catholic,
I never would've gone out with him in the first place.
They should make them wear a sign.
Single people in New York
rarely ask about their dates' religious backgrounds
for the same reason they don't ask
the number of former sex partners, too scary.
I mean, he's a rational, logical guy
in every respect but this.
Clean, you forgot clean. He's a clean guy.
Leave it to me to find the only religious guy
still left in Manhattan.
New York is a city filled with places to worship,
but it recently dawned on me,
the only time I ever heard anyone mention going into one
was for a singles mixer.
Are relationships the religion of the 90's?
Having been raised in the church of "Be nice to people
and don't talk with your mouth full,"
I decided to check out some more traditional religious types
in their natural habitat.
As I watched people leaving church,
I was amazed at how they looked.
Valentino, Escada,
Oscar de la Renta.
What is it about God and fashion
that go so well together?
And suddenly, there he was wearing Armani on Sunday...
Mr. Big.
I admit it was kind of a shock.
Up until that moment, I thought he only believed in the Yankees.
Well, hello there, church-goer.
Hey...
What are you doing here?
Research.
I'm doing a column on closet Presbyterians.
You know any?
Actually, I'm an atheist,
but don't tell that to the minister.
Who's the mystery woman?
My mother.
I take her to church every Sunday.
Really?
I'm so loving that.
How come you never told me?
Well, you write every Sunday, so...
So, every Sunday... church.
Right.
You know, I've got 20 minutes before my racquetball game.
Why don't we have a cup of coffee?
Oh, I can't, I'm on deadline
and this cappuccino just kicked in, so...
So?
Bye.
God bless.
It was one of those awkward relationship moments
where you feel like you know nothing about
the person you thought you knew everything about.
He goes to church with his mother?
-That can't be good. -Oh, don't listen to her.
A man who cares about his mother makes a wonderful husband.
I think it's sweet.
Sure, all religions are sweet
until you get to that shower after sex phase.
Oh, my God, is he still doing that?
Please, it's amazing he has any skin left.
Well, have you tried taking a shower with him?
No, I'm afraid he'll pull out garlic and a cross.
So which church does his mother go to?
Park Avenue Presbyterian.
Good church.
It's one of the best on the east side.
What are you rating churches?
Is there a Zagat guide for that?
Four stars, great bread,
disappointing wine selection.
The thing is, I'm dying to meet his mother.
Can you imagine?
Getting on the good side of his mother
is like closing the deal.
Hey, I'm sorry I'm late.
Well, it's about time.
I just had a five hour lunch with James.
Five hour lunches, I remember those.
Ladies, I have an announcement.
Please don't laugh.
What?
-I'm in love. -What?
Samantha uttering those words to us
was an event as unfathomable
as Moses parting the Red Sea.
It all started a couple of weeks ago
on a particularly blah Wednesday night.
Samantha decided to treat herself
to a night of great music.
I couldn't help but notice how you move to the music.
It's beautiful.
Well, I love jazz.
That's pretty clear.
Are you a musician?
Yeah.
Trapped in the body of a lawyer.
Well, we won't tell anyone.
May I join you?
Sure.
After they closed the jazz joint,
they walked and talked for blocks.
You have to at least try one of the glazed.
It's a little bit of heaven.
Mmm, heavenly.
And I never thought I'd get there.
Why not?
An angel like you?
And then Samantha did something
rather shocking for a first date.
She didn't ask him home.
Thanks, James.
I had a wonderful time.
Can I see you again?
I'd love that.
And with that one touch,
Samantha, who was never a believer in relationships,
suddenly became a convert.
I mean, I'd totally given up on the idea
that you could actually talk to men.
Hey, don't spread that around.
Before James, all my conversations
consisted of two sentences.
"Give it to me" and "Go home."
And I owe it all to Charlotte.
Me?
What did I do?
All that bullshit you spout
about not sleeping with men right away actually paid off.
I mean, if I'd fucked James already,
who knows where we'd be.
Wait, you haven't had sex yet?
Soon.
You know,
I think he's someone I could actually marry.
Samantha, that's great.
The idea that Samantha
could possibly get married before she did,
shook Charlotte's beliefs to the core.
She took some drastic action.
She made an appointment to see Noanie Stein,
psychic to the stars, and a cosmic connection
who lived in a brownstone
between Central Park West and Columbus.
Is this you and Madonna?
Yeah, we go to the same kabbalah class.
Now...
Pick three cards,
face down with your left hand.
Charlotte had heard about Noanie through a sorority sister
whose marriage she had very accurately predicted.
Okay,
now is there one question in particular?
Well, no, just...
There is.
When will I get married?
Ace of wands, prosperity.
Nine of cups,
strength and independence.
The hanged man, a new awakening.
You're a strong independent woman
with great success in your future,
but I do not see marriage.
Excuse me?
I don't see it.
What?
I don't see marriage.
Well, how can you just...
say that like that?
I mean, what about my feelings?
Honey, I'm a psychic, I'm not a shrink.
So, who is this fabulous mother in the hat,
and when do I get to go to church with you two?
You want to go to church?
You say that like I'm the Antichrist or something.
No, it's just I never thought of you
as the church type.
Oh, really?
What type am I?
The incredibly beautiful and intelligent type.
What religion are you?
I'm no one religion in particular.
I'm open to all.
Oh, kind of like a 7-11?
Come on,
I want to go to church with you and your mommy.
How about this Sunday?
Well, it's just a private little thing
my mother and I do, just the two of us.
Want to go to the Caribbean next week?
Sure, I'll go pack my Jet Ski.
No, I'm serious.
We can both use a vacation, come on.
The sun, the sand, you and me.
You waiting on me. Can you get away?
Yeah, but I can't afford it.
Well, I'll tell you what.
I'll buy the tickets, when we get to St. Barts,
you can buy me one big margarita.
Oh, God!
Wait, I want to hold you.
I'll be right back.
Stay here a second.
Isn't this nice? Us together?
Yeah.
Look, I'm just gonna go jump in the shower
and then boom, I'm all yours.
There's nothing sinful about sex.
Oh, oh, really?
Well, thanks for clearing that up.
And what is that? The gospel according to Miranda?
What are you gonna tell me next, that God made the body?
And if God made the body
and sex is an expression of that body,
how can anything made by that God-made body
be considered sin?
Well, yeah.
Oh, it's a miracle, I'm healed!
You're free to go work with the lepers now.
I guess this means I'm not going to hell.
Great news!
Thank you, Miranda.
Thank you for saving my immortal soul.
In her effort to help,
Miranda had accidentally detonated some kind of
Catholic guilt bomb.
I'm gonna go take a shower.
When I come out,
I'd kind of like it if you weren't here.
You got it.
Six months later, that exact same speech
would find its way into Thomas John Anderson's
hit off-Broadway play, Shower of Shame.
Meanwhile, downtown,
Samantha was preparing to see God.
I know it's only been a couple of weeks,
but I love you, Samantha.
Oh, I love you too.
Oh, honey, I can't wait any longer.
Just unzip and get over here.
Okay, I'm ready.
Put it in.
It is in.
Samantha said a little prayer that he was kidding.
He wasn't.
Sunday morning,
a time for rest, a time for relaxation,
a time for spying.
The plan was simple, just get a look at the mother,
then Miranda and I would go for eggs.
Look at how crowded it is.
What a sham.
Will you lighten up?
It's a Presbyterian church, not a Catholic one.
Whatever, Catholics, Episcopalians,
Buddhists, Shakers, Quakers,
all the same, all designed to fuck up our sex lives.
Here, pray.
Oh, there they are.
-Where? -Right there.
As I watched Mr. Big standing quietly next to his mother,
tall, proud, respectful,
I think I fell a little bit more in love with him.
Let us pray.
We come together this day...
We're out of here.
...to receive your blessings...
...Lord and Savior...
Here they come.
I say we make a break for it.
No, no, they saw me, I have to say hello.
I can't just pray and run.
Oh, there they are.
Okay, go, I'm fine.
Go.
Aren't you the young lady who made all that noise?
Slippery gloves.
Morning.
-Good morning. -It's a lovely church.
Yes, isn't it?
Don't you think it's lovely?
Mother, this is my friend, Carrie.
I searched her face,
looking for the light of recognition.
But there was nothing.
Carrie, Carrie.
I'm just gonna go and say goodbye to the pastor.
It was lovely meeting you.
"My friend, Carrie"?
You show up at church after I asked you not to.
What are you trying to do, test me?
Why all the sudden interest in meeting my mother?
Well, has the woman ever even heard of me?
My mother doesn't need to meet another girlfriend.
Oh.
I didn't mean that--
I mean,
I'll introduce you as my girlfriend when I'm sure.
Oh.
Look, I have to do things on my time frame.
Time frame?
We've been going out for months.
I really don't know what else to say to you.
We'll get there.
You just have to have a little faith.
Faith?
Yeah.
Look, in a couple days we're going on vacation,
we'll have plenty of time to talk this out.
Right now I've got to get my mother home, okay?
Well, go.
Just go.
Move over.
I didn't leave.
You didn't seem fine.
He introduced me to his mother as a friend.
She never heard of me.
That isn't a good sign.
Maybe they're not that close.
Come on, don't lie, you're in a church.
I can't get inside.
I don't know what else I can do.
Later that night, in the church of disco,
Stanford invited everyone he knew
to a party to introduce a new fragrance...
Fallen Angel.
Hi, Carrie.
Carrie!
Also, he wanted to show off his new boyfriend, Alanne.
-Hi. -Isn't this fun?
It's like hell with a cover charge.
Carrie, this is Alanne.
Alanne, Carrie.
Hi, nice to meet you finally.
You, too.
Did I tell you that Alanne
designed the Fallen Angel bottle?
Yes, congratulations!
Thank you.
Excuse me for a second.
I just saw someone I want to say hello to.
So you know what we did today?
We shopped for deco cabinet handles
for his armoire.
I turned into one of those couples we hate,
and I'm loving it!
Stanford and Alanne worshiped the same God...
style.
So, you all excited for the big "vacationné"?
Oh, I don't know.
I can't help feeling like
it's some sort of consolation prize
for not letting me in his life.
Well, what is going on with you two?
We're not in the greatest place.
What happened?
He wouldn't introduce me to his mother.
Ouch.
Thanks.
Skipper, hi.
It seems Stanford had invited everyone in his rolodex.
I, uh, I was hoping I'd see you here.
I've been totally thinking about you since we broke up.
You have?
Totally.
You look great.
Thanks.
So do you.
Miranda looked at Skipper,
the months apart had shed a new light on him.
Actually, they'd shed a new light
on his shower-free feelings about sex.
Later that night,
the three of us tracked Samantha to the ladies room
to get the lowdown on her love life with James.
Here you are, we've been looking for you everywhere.
So, how is everything?
She means have you and James done it yet?
Mm-hmm.
And?
It's nice.
I'm so happy for you.
Sweetie, what-- what? What is it?
Nothing.
Hey. Hey!
What's going on? Why are you crying?
James has a small dick.
Oh, well, it's not the end of the world.
-It's really small. -How small?
-Too small. -Well, size isn't everything.
Three inches?
Well...
-Hard?
Is he a good kisser?
Oh, who the fuck cares?
His dick is like a gherkin!
I feel so terrible.
Listen to me, I'm a bad person.
Don't beat yourself up.
You had certain expectations and you're disappointed.
Why?
Why does he have to have a small dick?
I really like him.
I thought you loved him.
Well...
Oh, look, we've all been there.
That's for sure.
I was once with a guy the size of one of those
little miniature golf pencils.
I couldn't tell if he was trying to fuck me or erase me.
I'm-- I'm sorry, it's just-- it's funny.
Let's not lose perspective.
There are ways to work around it.
Well, I don't want to work around it.
I love a big dick.
I love it inside of me.
I love looking at it, I love everything about it.
When I blow him, it's like...
Nothing.
Can you talk to him about it?
No.
It's the only thing we can't talk about.
What am I gonna do?
How is he with his tongue?
Charlotte left us all behind
telling us she had another party to go to.
She took a cab to a part of town
never mentioned in The New Yorker.
Will I ever get married?
I call the power of all the saints.
Saint Lazarus.
Santa Rosa.
Saint Rosa, send me your guidance.
Send me the truth.
Send me an answer.
No yolk.
What does that mean?
You'll never be married.
You are cursed.
But do not worry,
for the hundred dollars, we can remove it.
The entire way home,
Charlotte berated herself for being so foolish.
She simply refused to give into the idea
that she would never get married.
-Sorry. -Sorry.
All she had to do was keep believing
and it would happen.
It was 3:00 a.m. in the church of disco,
and Miranda couldn't believe what she was about to say.
You want to spend the night?
The night?
The whole night?
Yeah, the whole night.
I knew we'd get back together.
You did, huh?
Yup...
Every night I'd light a candle and say a little prayer.
You're a freak.
Samantha tried desperately to believe
that love was stronger than sex.
Why are you crying?
I'm just so happy.
I stayed up all night
questioning my faith in faith.
I mean, hadn't I had faith in us all along?
Faith that all the withholding would stop...
Faith that he'd say, "I love you."
Let's go!
Hey, hurry, we're gonna miss the plane.
Wait, wait, wait, put them down a second.
Just put them down.
Okay.
What?
I need a sign.
I mean, you told me to have faith, but see, um,
I'm kind of losing mine, so, so...
I need a sign.
What, like in those old religious movies,
you want a voice from above?
Just tell me I'm the one.
Come on, you don't have to tell your mother
or the whole world, just...
Just tell me.
I can't do this.
Carrie, Carrie.
Carrie, just get in the car, please.
I can't.
I love you, but I can't.
So that's it?
♪ No regrets ♪
♪ Although our love affair has gone astray ♪
♪ No regrets ♪
After he left, I cried for a week.
And then I realized I do have faith...
Faith in myself.
Faith that I would one day meet someone
who would be sure that I was the one.
♪ Still in my heart you'll be ♪
♪ Forever mine ♪
♪ No regrets ♪