New York City is all about sex.
People getting it. People trying to get it.
And people who can't get it.
No wonder the city never sleeps. It's too busy trying to get laid.
But if you ever actually do manage to get someone in bed,
the real fun begins.
Mmm.
-That's the kind with nuts in it. -Mm-hmm
-We love our nuts. -Mm-hmm.
After sleeping together for many weeks,
Mr. Big and I had gotten comfortable enough to really sleep together.
It was nice.
It was the way I'd always dreamed it could be.
-Good morning. -Morning.
Was that you?
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
I think it might be worse under there.
Shut up. Shut up!
I hadn't dressed so quickly
since the time I was caught in the boy's dorm sophomore year.
Wait. Don't you want some coffee?
Oh, gosh. I'm late for a thing.
Oh, my God. I was mortified.
I didn't call him the rest of the day.
I tried to lose myself in work,
but every time I stopped for a second to think...
Oh, God.
I'd relive my hell all over again.
The next day, I realized how childish I was behaving.
I decided to stop avoiding the situation and take the grown-up approach,
complete and utter denial.
Oh, so, I saw the Met is opening a new Goya exhibit.
Do you want to go this Saturday?
Sure.
Could you get me some more duck sauce, please?
I most certainly can.
Oh, and then we have to stop and see the Renoirs. I love the Renoirs.
Okay.
There's a moment in every relationship
where romance gives way to reality.
You know... You know what?
I'm exhausted.
You mind if we just call it a night? Okay?
Sure.
Good night.
'Night.
That was the first night we slept together and didn't make love.
By the middle of the next week, it was three times in a row,
and I was beginning to worry.
Three times? Try three months.
-No. -Yes.
Now would be a good time to wipe that horrified look off your face.
I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm sorry.
I just... Wow, I didn't know. Where have I been?
You've been having sex.
I've been at Blockbuster renting videos. It's tragic.
I'm like two rentals away from a free pound of Gummy Bears.
Oh, relax. You're just in a dry spell.
I can't believe you said that.
You're all freaked out about three times.
-I'm talking three months. -Yeah, but that's different.
Not doing it when you're with someone
means much more than not doing it when you're not with someone.
What are you worried about?
I thought you said everything felt really comfortable and great.
-Yeah, well, maybe too comfortable. -What do you mean?
I farted.
I farted in front of my boyfriend.
-And? -And we're no longer having sex.
And he thinks of me as one of the boys.
And I'm gonna have to move to another city
where the shame of this won't follow me.
You farted. You're human.
I don't want him to know that.
I mean, he's this perfect guy.
You know, he walks around his perfect apartment with his perfect suit.
He's just perfect, perfect, perfect, and I'm the girl who farts.
-No wonder we're not having sex. -You're insane!
It's been three times. It's perfectly normal.
Says who? I mean...
say it's not the...
then what else is going on?
I mean, is it normal to be in the same bed and not do it?
I guess it depends on what's normal for you.
Oh, God. I hate that.
Who am I to know what's normal?
I haven't dated in a hundred years. I don't have a clue.
Well, three months is not normal for me.
One month was interesting. Two months was numbing.
Three months, I am going out of my mind.
There are 1.3 million single men in New York,
1.8 million single women.
And of these more than three million people,
about 12 think they're having enough sex.
How often is normal?
I have to masturbate three times a day just to make it through.
Some people take coffee breaks, I take jerk-off breaks.
They say the average 33-year-old woman has sex 3.5 times a week.
I'd like to know who that woman is.
You know, my wife and I haven't had sex since the baby was born.
The baby's applying to Yale next fall.
Once... One time a day...
but two time on very special day.
Normal is the halfway point between what you want and what you can get.
Even in the plow position, I could count on Samantha
for amazing sexual clarity.
Very good. Let's move on to downward facing dog.
Woof.
With him, I could do it every hour on the hour.
Do you think it means something if Big and I are sleeping together,
but we're not sleeping together?
-The truth? -And when have I ever wanted that?
Yeah, okay, tell me.
I think there's trouble. I mean...
sex is a barometer for what's going on in the relationship.
Well, I wasn't going to tell you this, but...
I farted.
-Then move your mat away. -Not now. I did it in front of Big.
-Huge mistake. -You think?
It wasn't a choice. I'm human. It happened.
No, honey, you're a woman. And men don't like women to be human.
We aren't supposed to fart, douche,
use tampons or have hair in places we shouldn't.
I mean, hell, a guy once broke up with me because I missed a bikini wax.
I knew it.
This is a watershed relationship moment I'm never gonna be able to erase.
Oh, sure you will.
Just go over there and fuck his brains out and he'll forget all about it.
Men aren't that complicated. They're kind of like plants.
Concentrate. Quiet your insides.
Now he tells me.
Roll over on your backs. Take goddess pose.
Let your breathing work with you.
-In...
-And out...
In.
Out.
Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?
Forty-five minutes and three animal positions later,
Samantha and Siddhartha were sipping green tea
at a nearby health food restaurant.
Tofu or not tofu.
I always feel so amazing after yoga.
My body feels so open, so alive, so ready for anything.
Samantha.
Yes?
I'm celibate.
I practice brahmacharya, Tantric celibacy.
I gave up sex three years ago.
My God. Why?
Or more importantly, why? Didn't you like it?
Oh, I loved it. I'd have sex morning, noon and nights.
Sometimes three women a day, and I was always ready for more.
-Now you're just being cruel. -No.
It was all ego.
And where I am now is so much better than sex.
Oh, come on, honey. Nothing's better than sex.
Think about really good foreplay.
Your sexual energy's just starting to awaken.
Now imagine a three-year foreplay
where all that sexual energy is coursing through your body,
but it never gets released.
It just recycles.
Builds... Rises...
Until your entire being is humming with that electric sexual energy.
My apartment's just around the corner.
The only thing hotter than sex is not having sex.
Amazingly, talking dirty about not having sex
was the most sexually deviant act Samantha had participated in for months.
The next night when I met Charlotte for dinner,
I had reached my own transcendental state.
Pure Mr. Big obsession.
Okay, um...
The first time he was tired.
And the next two times, I...
I don't know. I don't know. It's bad, isn't it?
Carrie, relax. There's nothing wrong with your relationship.
-Well, that's not all. I... -What?
I couldn't bring myself to tell her.
I was afraid she'd go spontaneously deaf.
I'm sorry. What were you saying?
People put too much emphasis on the importance of sex.
It's not the most important thing in a relationship.
Right.
Take Kevin and I, for example.
We've been going out for weeks, and we still haven't done it.
I mean, we touch and cuddle,
but he's sweet, and he respects my boundaries.
And I like it. It makes it special.
Oh, there he is.
Meeting a friend's new boyfriend
for the first time is always a little tense.
What if you don't like him? What if he doesn't like you?
Kevin, this is my good friend Carrie.
-Hey, Carrie. -Hi.
What if you've already slept with him?
-You two know each other. -Well, kind of.
We used to go out.
Well, kind of used to go out.
You two used to go out?
-That's so funny.
-Isn't that funny? -That's my office.
I gotta take this. I'll be right back.
Okay, when?
-Um, three years ago? -Three years. I can live with that.
Serious?
-No. -Good. Why'd you break up?
You know, we were in different places and I...
Carrie, we don't have time for diplomacy. Just tell me.
He's a sex maniac.
When Charlotte discovered that Kevin had tucked his libido away
for her comfort level, she was even more moved by his restraint.
I want you to know how much I appreciate your patience.
You've been so patient with me.
Shows how much you really care.
And all that waiting
is gonna make it all the more special for us now.
There's only gonna be one stop. Thanks.
I don't think this is gonna work.
-Why? Is it me? - No, you're great.
I'm just not that sexual a guy.
It's me. I know it's me.
Look, Carrie told me that you were quite sexual.
In fact, I believe she used the word "maniac."
That was before.
-Before what? -Prozac.
-Yeah. I used to be such a mess.
Mr. Mood Swing. It's a total lifesaver.
The only downside is, is it takes the air out of my tires.
After a while, it's kind of like a taffy pull.
It's okay. Don't worry about it.
I don't. I mean, I wish I could say I felt worse, but...
To tell you the truth, these days, nothing gets me down.
You want to watch a movie?
Terrified of going to Mr. Big's
for what could become another platonic sleepover,
I paced my apartment and tried not to think about our lack of sex when...
There they were, my new neighbors,
Mr. And Mrs. Get-it-on.
A couple so obviously into each other there was only one thing to do...
watch.
Then something wonderful happened.
My desire overcame my fear.
Hi, it's me.
Is it okay if I come over?
Okay.
Meanwhile, across town at the corner of Nirvana and West Third,
Siddhartha was helping Samantha along her newfound path.
"Blocks are connection to our inner life
and true identities."
-You're hard. -I know.
"Our addictions and attachments
are a way to block our spiritual hunger
through unhealthy and dependent ways."
-You're still hard. -It'll go down.
So can I.
I showed up at his apartment feeling sexy and confident.
Wearing my secret-weapon skirt that really hugged my hips,
I was ready to go.
He didn't have a prayer.
Very nice. Come on in. I'm watching the fight.
Baby.
Carrie, come on. Let me watch this.
Oh, man!
Jesus, Carrie! Come on!
Would you knock it the fuck off? I'm trying to watch this fight.
Fine. I'll leave.
What is wrong with you? Why are you acting so nuts?
Well, maybe I'm not perfect.
Maybe I don't fit into your perfect, you know, life
with your perfect apartment and your perfect pay-per-view fight.
Maybe I should leave.
I stood there and waited for the obligatory
he's-coming-to-stop-me ten seconds.
He didn't.
By the time I got home, I was sure he'd left an apology on my voice mail.
You have no new messages in your mailbox.
I didn't sleep very well that night,
but I wasn't the only one.
After a night of spiritual reading with her hunky guru,
Samantha began to feel things she hadn't felt in a very long time,
frustrated and horny.
She decided it was time to put an end to her suffering.
But just as she reached the place Krishna once called the gateway to life,
she turned back and decided not to enter.
After all, she'd come this far.
She could continue not to come at all.
In an effort to get her mind off sex,
Miranda had rented a five-hour Danish documentary
on the Nuremberg trial.
It actually worked until...
Hey, gorgeous!
Why don't you quick drop this?
Hey, she's thinking about it.
Where you going so fast?
I got what you want, I got what you need.
Like every woman consumed with a relationship problem,
I needed a project to keep my mind from obsessing
and my hands from dialing his number.
Three months and one week.
Miranda needed to keep her hands busy as well.
-Did he call? - Nope.
And it's been two days.
Nice color. Ecru?
Eggshell.
Well, I think it's over.
I should never have farted.
Jesus, Carrie! That's it. I've heard enough about the fart.
-It's not the fucking fart. -I know it's not the fucking fart.
I just... I think I'm in love with him
and I'm terrified that's he's gonna leave me because I'm not perfect.
All right.
Let's just put the roller down and go in the other room and talk, huh?
Sex has stopped. He hasn't called.
What if he never calls and three weeks from now
I pick up The New York Times and I read that he's married
some perfect little woman who never passes gas under his $500 sheets.
When did you get so obsessed with being perfect?
I don't know. It's something about him. I mean, you should see me around him.
I'm not like me. I'm like "together Carrie."
You know, I wear little outfits... "sexy Carrie," and "casual Carrie."
Sometimes I catch myself actually posing. It's exhausting.
Well then, stop.
Why don't you show him more of this Carrie? She's pretty great.
What if he doesn't like her?
Miranda?
Oh, my God!
Look at them.
Oh, wow!
I had no idea they did an afternoon show.
When a show is good, word gets around.
There we were, the '90s version of matinee ladies.
Who said the theater was dead.
Samantha, I cannot believe that you would give this up on purpose.
- Actually, I hardly miss it. - How long has it been?
-A hundred years. -It never goes down, does it?
- Look, it's still... -Hard.
-Yeah. -Gummy Bear, please.
-Give me the fucking candy. -Hey, snapping over Gummy Bears
might be a sign that celibacy's not for you.
All I can say is that my big payoff better be worth it.
Samantha, I don't understand you.
There are people starving out there and you're fasting.
Stop complaining. At least you can take care of yourself.
I'm way beyond that point.
Besides, I think I've given myself carpal tunnel.
Sure, it's all fun until you get to know each other.
That move right there, that's what they're famous for.
It's been an hour. How can that guy still be...
Hard.
I have got to try this again with Kevin.
I mean, we really like each other.
That's got to be stronger than a drug, right?
I'm warning you, ladies,
if I make it to four months, I'm humping one of you.
Oh, my God.
I hate them.
After the second show, each of us went on with our Saturdays.
Miranda went to get a movie and another pound of Gummy Bears.
Hey, it's my sweetheart!
You're looking good, baby. Good enough to eat.
Where are you goin', doll? I got what you want.
-I got what you need. -You talking to me?
We got a live one, boys.
You got what I want? You got what I need?
Well, what I want is to get laid. What I need is to get laid.
-I need is to get laid. -Take it easy, lady. I'm married.
All talk and no action, huh? What a oaf one!
Yeah, she's something else.
Samantha decided to channel her frustration at yoga.
Good.
Now release and breathe.
Unless you're planning to move those hands down, get them off me.
Exhale and turn around into asana.
She had reached the end of her path and her patience.
-Psst.
Breathe. Ease your lower back.
Wanna fuck?
Yeah.
Samantha spent the rest of the afternoon
having multiple yo-gasms.
Later that night, Charlotte was determined to prove she was stronger
than selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors.
Isn't your arm getting tired?
No, I think it's starting to work.
Charlotte.
It's not, and I'm beginning to chafe.
Oh.
-You okay? -Yeah.
I've just never been in this situation before.
Do you think you'll ever...
-Never mind. -What, think I'll ever go off it?
-Yeah. -Nope.
Not even for me?
Nope.
Come on. Wouldn't you rather be with a guy who's kind and giving
and not that interested in sex,
than an unstable, oversexed prick who only wants to get laid?
Nope.
Once Charlotte realized
she couldn't get what she thought she didn't want,
she couldn't imagine going on without it.
Saturday night's dinner came and went with no call from Big.
My life was suddenly shit,
but my cabinets were looking fabulous.
-Who is it? - Me.
-Surprise. -Yeah.
Wow!
-What's all this? -I'm painting.
I can see that.
Why didn't you call?
So this is where you live.
About time you invited me up.
I didn't invite you.
I know.
It's nice. Very nice.
No, it's not. It's a mess.
The floors need to be stripped and the curtains are...
I want to change a lot of it.
I don't know.
I like it.
I like it the way it is.
What was that all about the other night?
That was me...
having a meltdown.
Okay.
Nice paint.
-Eggshell? -Yes.
Mm-hmm.
Did you know that there's a couple humping outside of your window?
Really? Oh, I never noticed.
All I could think was why aren't we having sex?
Is this normal? What's wrong?
Where are we going?
Oh, hell.
We can do better than that.
And then he kissed me.
Odd, how normal can sometimes feel so uncomfortable.