It's been said that New Yorkers
are the most jaded people in the world.
You freak!
The fact is, we've pretty much done and seen it all.
It takes quite a bit to shock us.
Which is why when Charlotte said the new show at her gallery
would totally blow us away,
we took it with the proverbial grain of salt.
Seriously.
That's a woman?
It was the latest installation
from the photographer, Baird Johnson, entitled,
"the Collision of Illusion and Reality."
Yep.
That's the woman.
Look at that bulge. It's shocking.
Yeah, I know. Hurry up and look before Giuliani shuts it down.
So, what do you guys think?
It's amazing. Congratulations, sweetie.
You know, women dressing like men is very popular right now.
And here I thought it was Pokémon.
Who knew it was this easy?
All it takes is some stick-on sideburns
and a sock in your pants.
That's some sock.
I've always had a thing for cowboys.
Reminder. John Wayne's a Jane.
Oh, my God.
I'm attracted to her.
Maybe I'm a lesbian.
I once dated a guy who liked to wear my underwear,
but I've never gone the other way.
See, when you're gay, everyone can wear everyone's underwear.
That's hygienic.
I bet being a drag king would be fun.
Oh, please.
I have enough trouble figuring out how to be a woman
in a man's world
without trying to be a woman
pretending to be a man
in a man's world.
Well, at least you wouldn't have to wax.
And by the way, if you ever change your mind,
you've got "cop" written all over you.
-Really.
So am I rich yet?
Getting there. Everyone, this is Baird, the artist.
-Oh, hi. -Hi!
These are my friends.
What inspired you to do this?
I feel we have dual powers within each of us.
Men can be very female...
and women can be very male.
Gender is an illusion.
Sometimes a very beautiful illusion.
You know?
I'm gonna go get a canapé.
Because I'm starved.
So, I mean, not that a canapé is a meal,
but, you know, in a pinch.
Excuse us.
Okay, what was that about?
Nobody loves canapés that much.
He makes me nervous.
The drag king stuff?
No, I think he's...
So ask him out.
Oh, I can't.
You know me, I can never make the first move.
Sounds like someone needs a sock in the pants.
Well, I'm gonna drag myself home.
You wanna share a cab?
No, I'm meeting Sean.
Ooh, the young guy?
He's not that young.
Carrie, he's 26.
His generation has a totally different letter than ours.
Oh, who cares?
Age is an illusion.
-Goodnight! -Goodnight.
-Night. -Night.
Later, Miranda was shocked to find her apartment
had undergone a gender transformation of its own.
Hey!
What are you doing here?
I still got your key from when I fed your cat that time.
I ordered us Chinese.
I didn't think we were seeing each other tonight.
Oh, planning on seeing your other boyfriend, were you?
Well, now, you've ruined that.
-This is what we're watching? -Yeah.
Gimme that.
-Somebody managed...
Will be...
Hey there, easy, chief.
You're making my brain hurt.
Don't you have to work tonight?
Not until 10:00.
And I got stuff here I can change into.
Right.
But I got till 10:00.
Miranda absolutely loved the man inside of her.
She just didn't love him inside her apartment all the time.
Oh!
C'mon, the ice waits for no woman.
I'm practicing my triple salchow in my head.
-Heads up! -Whew!
A little while later
and I was being dragged around by Sean,
my generation something-else date.
We met at a downtown party
celebrating a new internet magazine that Sean was running
and that I still couldn't find on my computer.
No, don't!
Oh, seriously, stop!
I'm guessing it's easier to balance when you're not smoking.
Smoking is the only thing that keeps me balanced.
Doesn't this place rock?
Oh, yeah.
You have to give me a little credit for an original date.
I don't believe it's officially a date without cocktails.
My coach is gonna kill me.
Whoa!
Half a flask of Jim Beam later,
Sean and I had really broken the ice.
Or at least my ass had.
Man, that last fall was at least a 9.2.
Oh, you and the Russian judge. Tough.
There was something about him.
He was sexy, charming, sexy, coordinated...
Nothing about him or our third date was feeling typical.
So, Kerrigan...
When was your last serious relationship?
Until then. There it was.
The inevitable third-date question.
Ooh.
Bad question?
Wanna take another spin around the death rink?
No, it's fine, it's fine.
I ended something a while ago.
Two years of a lot of back and forth.
You know, apparently, we weren't Y2K compatible.
What about you?
Well, before you, there was Kayla.
Really neurotic. Lasted a year.
And before her, Leslie. Couldn't commit.
And before Leslie, there was Mark.
Is that a problem?
He's a bisexual.
Well, I could have told you that, sweetie.
He took you ice skating, for God's sake.
The weird thing is, he was so open about it.
Y'know, "Hi, I'm a bisexual," like, um...
"Hi, I'm from Colorado," or something.
I don't think you're allowed to be bisexual in Colorado.
"Is that a problem?" I mean, what kind of question is that?
"Is that a problem?"
Of course, it's a problem.
What did you say?
I said it wasn't a problem.
I panicked!
He's such a good kisser.
You know, that generation is all about sexual experimentation.
All the kids are going bi.
So, what, if all the bi kids are jumping off a bridge,
you're gonna do that too?
I'm a trisexual.
I'll try anything once.
When did this happen?
When did the sexes get all confused?
Somewhere between Gen X and Gen Y
they blended and made XY.
Y'know, I did the, uh, date-the-bisexual-guy
thing in college.
But in the end, they all ended up with men.
So did the bisexual women.
Which explains why there are no available men left for us.
Oh, geez.
Maybe I do have a problem with this.
I'm an old fart.
Correction.
A hot old fart.
I'm not even sure bisexuality exists.
I-- I think it's just a layover on the way to Gaytown.
Isn't that right next to Ricky Martinville?
Y'know, I think it's great.
He's open to all sexual experiences, he's evolved.
It's hot.
It's not hot, it's greedy.
He's double-dipping.
You're not marrying the guy, you're making out with him.
Enjoy it. Don't worry about the labels.
Ah, you're right, you're right.
I'm very into labels.
Gay. Straight.
Pick a side and stay there.
Hey, sister.
-Where are you going? -Home.
I've got a date with my remote control.
Steve's playing basketball.
That means at least three hours
of blissfully uninterrupted alone time.
What about my problem?
Stop kissing him.
Easy for her to say.
That night, I couldn't get Samantha's words out of my head.
Was Sean's generation onto something?
Was sexual flipping the wave of the future?
And if it was, could I play that game,
or was I over the hill?
If women can transform into men, and men can become women
and we can choose to sleep with everyone,
then maybe gender doesn't even exist anymore.
If we can take the best of the other sex
and make it our own,
has the opposite sex become obsolete?
Don't bust my balls here, Mitch.
You call yourself a fucking headhunter?
Then get me a decent assistant.
-Yeah?
I'm looking for Mrs. Jones?
It's Miss.
I'm here for the assistant job.
Well, please, come in.
Samantha hired Matt five minutes later.
She may have been the man of the office,
but she figured she could always make room for one more.
Meanwhile, downtown,
Charlotte could have used some help herself.
Someone's being industrious.
Oh, Baird, hi.
I didn't, I didn't hear you come in.
I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd come by
-and scare the shit out of you.
Pick up my check for the pieces I sold.
Right.
-Here. -Thanks.
Oh, there's something else.
I've been thinking about this.
I would love to have you pose for me.
As...
a man?
Yeah. You'd be great.
No.
I don't think so.
Why not?
Well, I'm not, y'know...
What, a model?
No, butch.
You'd be surprised, Charlotte.
Every woman has a male inside of her.
Even you.
No, not me.
I'm really bad at math,
and I can't change a tire to save my life.
Pose for me.
I'll get it out of you.
C'mon, be a man.
The next night, Sean took me to a club so new
even I hadn't heard of it.
What's the name of this place?
"Hair."
Like the musical?
Like the stuff on your head.
Oh, you're too cool for me.
You're too cute for me.
Ten seconds of making out and I could almost forget
Sean's lack of sexual orientation...
until we stopped kissing.
Okay, mister, who you checking out?
The guy or the girl?
Carrie, I was looking for the bathroom.
Oh.
Sorry, sorry!
Sorry, this whole, uh, this whole bisexual thing,
it's just, it's kinda throwing me for a loop.
You know, you've been with men, you've been with women...
Wait, seriously.
Were you just looking at that guy?
Carrie, I'm looking at you.
I'm with you.
I dig you.
Oh, "dig" is in again?
Yeah, and so is "groovy."
And you're that, too.
So you're not gay.
I'm not gay.
I've been in three major relationships.
One happened to be a guy, okay?
That's just me.
An hour later, Sean was in my bed.
That's just me.
Nice floor.
Ah, thanks. It's a rental.
-What? -Nothing.
Tell me or I'll make you go skating again.
Do I kiss better than a guy?
Better than any I've kissed.
How 'bout me?
Top two percent.
I'll take that.
So if there was this really good-looking guy
walking towards you,
and across the street was a really beautiful girl,
-which one would you-- -Hey, Carrie, c'mon.
Could you stop making this all about sex?
It's not, y'know. It's about the person.
You.
-I'm crazy about you.
The way you smell...
The way your upper lip tastes...
It may not have been all about sex,
but it was for the next two hours.
I wasn't the only one with thoughts of younger men on the brain.
No, you listen to me.
We've called your boss three times already.
I'm not leaving word again, okay?
Give him that message.
Hello? Hello?
What are you doing?
Matt, that is not how I do business.
That bitch makes me crazy.
I don't care. These are important clients.
You can't talk to them like that.
Do you want them to call you back, or not?
Maybe I need to remind you that I am the boss here.
So fire me.
I just think you deserve some respect, that's all.
Put this in the Fargas Benefit file.
Samantha found Matt's boyish arrogance annoying,
unprofessional...
and incredibly hot.
Meanwhile, Miranda was having her own problems
sharing a confined space with the other sex.
Hey!
What?
What's goin' on?
You're on my side.
My pillow.
My guest's pillow.
Okay, um, I'll tell you what.
Tomorrow, we'll go buy some paint
and we'll draw a line down the middle for you.
Go to sleep.
That pile. Your stuff.
You have to keep it neater.
Well, maybe if you could spare a drawer or a box or something,
I could keep my underwear out of the way.
You want a drawer?
Actually...
actually, I'd like to move in.
Most single women dream of this moment.
Most single women, but Miranda.
Wow!
Okay, where did that come from?
What? I've been thinking about it.
We have a great time together.
We're practically living together anyway--
Yeah, but we're not.
Look, we just started dating again.
There's no need to go at warp speed, here.
I mean, nobody's dying and I'm sure every book
would say that we're not ready.
I mean, you're here all the time!
No problem.
I'll get outta your hair.
-I'll leave the key. -No, no.
Don't leave the key! I-- I-- I-- I-- take the key!
I just-- I need my space.
I feel like I'm being suffocated!
Jesus, Miranda.
It's like you're the guy sometimes.
Faced with relationship problems,
some women turn to fried food.
Miranda decided to turn to Manhattan's
latest fitness craze, The Goddess Workout.
All right, ladies, open up your chakras,
let the inner goddess sing.
She's in there. All you have to do is let her out.
This is gonna help you be a woman?
I'm gonna find my inner goddess if it kills me.
And pop your hip.
Pop your hip.
Open yourself like a lotus flower.
C'mon, pop your hip.
Pop your hip.
You see?
My hips don't pop, I'm a guy!
You're insane.
This isn't helping me find my inner goddess.
This is making me find my inner humiliation.
And reach back, ladies, reach for the stars.
-Ugh!
You know what? We're out of here.
Yeah.
I'm never gonna be a girly girl.
I never will.
I'm never gonna be a lotus flower.
And may I just say, thank God?
A girly girl would want her boyfriend to move in.
Yeah, she also wears makeup to the gym.
And makes little hearts above her I's.
I do love him.
-I do. -I know, sweetie.
So, what's my problem?
I think in any relationship one person's the alpha dog.
The one that's in charge.
That's you.
You don't want to share your water dish.
But I'm very free with the chew toys.
That you are.
Miranda arrived home later to an empty apartment.
And for the first time, she really didn't like it.
While Miranda and I worked out our inner goddesses,
Baird was working the male out of Charlotte.
Yeah.
-You look great.
I'm sorry, I can't.
I can't do this.
Just relax.
Okay, let it go. Forget Charlotte.
You're a man now...
You're a hot guy.
You can get any woman you want.
You're rich. You're powerful.
You eat guys like me for lunch.
How you feeling now?
I think I need a bigger sock.
I think you do too.
Better?
Much.
Who knows whether it was the sock,
or the suit, or Baird,
but suddenly Charlotte wasn't just a chick with a dick.
She was a chick with balls.
Unfortunately, the two alpha dogs in Samantha's office
were not getting along as well.
These invitations need to go to the printers, ASAP.
Yeah, okay. I'll get to it.
Now! Drop them at 72nd Street and then pick up lunch.
They're in opposite directions.
I'll get lunch first.
No! Invitations first.
Fine. Then I'll be an hour late.
Do you realize that you are my assistant?
Your job is to do what I say, no matter what.
I know what I'm doing.
And I know better.
-Yeah, says who? -Me.
And who the hell do you think you are?
-Your boss!
Samantha Jones, PR.
No, I don't know when she will...
Yeah, well, she's been busy.
Yeah? You have a shitty attitude too.
Oh, and FYI, your parties suck!
Well, the bad news is, you're fired.
The good news is... now, I can fuck you.
Samantha discovered the only place
she and Matt worked well together was in bed.
Fuck me on the desk.
-No, the chair. -No, on the desk.
With Sam on top, naturally.
That night, Miranda invited Steve over for "pasta al détente."
Hi!
I'm late, I know I'm late.
-Hey, it's okay-- -No, it's not okay.
I was gonna make you dinner and then this conference call
went over like two hours.
And I went to the market, and the recipe calls
for extra virgin olive oil, and they only had virgin.
And how the hell do I know the difference
since I don't even cook?
So I just scrapped the whole thing
and got the stuff in a jar, and I'm late--
Don't move. It's glass.
I can't!
I can't do this.
Of course you can't, we'll order pizza.
-It's no big deal. -It's a big fucking deal!
I spilled marinara sauce all over myself, and you're here,
and you saw that and I drop things, okay?
Okay, so do I...
I do love you.
But I've never lived with anybody before,
and I'm stubborn, and I like the remote,
and I can't cook.
And I don't do laundry sometimes for like two weeks
and my sponges smell, and you're gonna see all that,
and I'm scared...
And I don't know if I can move forward,
but I really don't want to lose you.
Hey.
I'm not going anywhere.
Crying on your shoulder.
Jesus, I guess I really am a woman, huh?
A week later, Miranda's man moved into her place...
the same day that Charlotte moved her man into her place.
She never saw Baird again.
She was too embarrassed about how forward she'd been.
She realized she might have been that type of guy,
but she'd never be that type of woman.
Eighty blocks downtown and five flights up,
Sean and I had almost made it to the party.
I swear, one more floor, promise.
If there's no vodka at the end of this, it's your head.
Take it easy, dude, we're here.
Okay, dude.
Okay, so whose party is this?
Mark's.
Oh.
Mark, ex-boyfriend Mark?
Is that a problem?
It's his boyfriend's birthday.
It was definitely a first.
I was attending a party
of my sort-of boyfriend's ex-boyfriend.
And his boyfriend.
-Hey. -Hey!
Carrie, this is Mark, and his boyfriend, Garth.
Partner. Nice to meet you.
This is our baby, Isabell, two L's, no E.
Okay, happy birthday.
Oh, thank you, thanks.
This is Dawn and Grace.
-Hi. -Hi!
They just got married in Hawaii.
Oh, congratulations.
Thanks. Thank you.
It was totally spur of the moment.
Yeah, I didn't want a big wedding like my first.
It wasn't so bad.
Yeah, it was being married to you that sucked.
Oh, so you two were--
Married, right, yeah, for like a year.
We were high on "E" for most of it, though.
Otherwise it would have been miserable.
Hey, don't forget who gave you that egg there, buddy.
Oh, and this is our, uh, token straight friend, Joel.
Are you wearing pleather?
Well, yes, I am. And thank you for noticing.
Carrie, what can I get you?
An hour later,
I had almost gotten it straight.
Okay, so, so Grace once dated Brett,
and Brett used to live with Joel?
Semi-platonically.
And you slept with Dawn.
Before she was with Mark.
Naturally.
Gay, bi, straight...
This party was a veritable pu pu platter
of sexual orientation.
Time to play!
-Play what? -Spin the bottle.
Wait, wait, seriously?
Seventh grade spin the bottle, that one?
Yes, come play, it's fun.
C'mon, it's fun.
Get a room!
Get a dental dam!
Carrie.
Oh, whoops.
It's a girl. Try again.
It's okay.
Of course it was okay.
I was in Alice-in-Confused- Sexual-Orientation-Land.
I realized I had a choice.
I could stand up and walk out and prove I was an old fart,
or I could fall down the rabbit hole.
And so I fell.
It wasn't bad.
Kind of like chicken.
Hey, where you going?
-It's your spin. -Oh.
Just... more cigarettes.
That was the last night I saw Sean.
I realized they could do whatever they wanted,
but deep down?
I was too old to play this game.
So I took my hot, old-fart ass home.
That's just me.