Does it get any more glamourous than this? I'm telling you, these shoes are amazing. Granted I don't have a dress that quite compares to this, but I also don't walk the red carpet or go to the opera, which are pretty much the occasions this ensemble calls for. Tomorrow will feature these heels with an outfit of more modest design, though still just as elegant--say for a nice dinner out somewhere or a cocktail party. Bottom line? Can't go wrong with sequin heels. (Or, wait, am I just justifying my extravagant purchase? Doesn't matter.) We'll call this look, "Dressed to the Perfect Tens."
As the SATC 2 movie release fast approaches, I see my girls (I figure it's about time I called them that) everywhere--Star Magazine, Glamour, Vogue, Shape, you name it. All the articles (okay, features) talk about the actress' wardrobes, onscreen rapport, and personal lives as well discuss the movie's details and possible plot twists. Of course, a dedicated SATC fan like myself has purchased all of the aforementioned magazines and read ever word about the movie.
While I'm excited at the prospect of seeing the long-awaited flick with Hank and any interested gal friends (I'm trying to organize a dinner-movie group thing, where we all dress up...wish me luck), I'm also realizing that my episode review days are nearing an end. There are only twelve days until the movie's premiere, and, dear readers, I only have a total of seven more posts to go after this one until my project is completely finished. This makes me sad. It's not that I'll miss the actual writing about the episodes. It will be nice not to have to watch the show and take two hours every other day to figure out how it relates to my life and the world. It will be a relief not to have to analyze all the relationships I've ever had, including the present one.
No, the sadness is due to a few things, the most significant of which is that I hate endings. I am a process person. I enjoy the leading-up-to, the contemplating, the planning, the preparing. I don't often enjoy the event and the feeling that it's over. I will miss feeling the fire under my ass. I don't do well with internal deadlines, as in "I'll get this done by this time, because I want to." I need a cold, hard date and time to push me to finish things. I will also miss the structure the project provided, writing about a topic I really enjoy, and talking about fashion. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to start writing about something new just to keep my sanity. But I don't know what that is yet. I'll keep you posted, quite literally.
In the next two episodes, we see Carrie struggling to assert her right to be a single gal with expensive shoes instead of expensive children. When someone steals her $500 heels at a posh baby shower, the hostess shames Carrie for suggesting they be replaced. Carrie, making a point of how much she has spent on the married hostess with three kids over the years, "registers" for her upcoming wedding to...herself. She gets her shoes and her dignity back. Later, she reunites with her old high school boyfriend and wonders if they might end up together. That is, until he confesses that his recent divorce has led him to check himself into an asylum. Miranda starts up a fling with the new, African-American doctor in her building. Samantha has a run-in with her worst enemy, the annoying child, at a restaurant and gets spaghetti thrown in her face. She also fakes an exclusive club membership and gets caught. Charlotte is getting used to married life with Harry, including having to ask him to pick up his tea bags and not sit on their white couch in the nude.
Hank and I were discussing the issue of cohabitation the other day, even before these episodes--specifically, whether or not it's a good idea to live with your significant other, especially before marriage, assuming both people eventually want marriage. I always thought it was dangerous. Sure, there are benefits. You get to go to sleep together every night; you save on rent, since you would be at each others' places all the time anyway; and you get to see how the other person lives. But there are drawbacks, too. Biggest one? You get to see how the other person lives.
Hank's viewpoint? There are always issues between any couple, and it just gives you time ahead-of-time to work them out. He holds forth that if you love the person, you may have a bone to pick about how they do certain things (like laundry and dishes), but the things are small enough that they can always be worked out. It's not like you would break up with someone over a dog-feeding situation.
But people do. As we talked about, I was reminded of all the little things that bug me about living with Hank: that I often have to ask him to wash the dishes if I don't want to end up doing them all the time; that he doesn't seem to know how to do a white load of laundry or water plants; that if left up to him, we wouldn't change the sheets for six months. As I listed them off to him, I was embarrassed by how small and stupid (not to mention stereotypical) they seemed. Besides, did I think I was easy to live with? Me and my inability to be on time to functions? My nagging about taking out the trash, which I rarely do? My complete bitchiness when I am interrupted in the middle of reading, writing, practicing piano, sleeping, or nearly any activity that requires minor concentration? I wasn't sure how I had lived peacefully with myself for so long.
It was a wake-up call for me. I saw that instead of enjoying life with Hank this past year, in a way I had been evaluating him the whole time--trying to figure out if we could live together for the rest of our lives, instead of working on our cohabitation issues one day (and one issue) at a time. Every time something went wrong, it was a point against living together before marriage or even living together at all.
It doesn't have to be that way. For example, last night I simply asked him if he could please do the dishes while I made dinner. He did it, no questions asked. I hadn't waited for him to do them himself. I hadn't gotten mad at him for not doing them sooner. I had just asked, and life had gone on. I realized that all the things that drove me crazy weren't reasons not to live with him (or anyone); they were just things that needed to be worked out.
Since our talk, when something bugs me, I can't help thinking of something Hank asked during our talk. "Would you rather live apart?" he had questioned very sincerely, like it was a definite option. "Of course not," I had said, equally sincerely. "Okay, well just let me know if you ever do. I don't want you to ever feel trapped with me." I was shaken by his frankness in that moment. I hadn't meant my frustration to point to an end of our living together; I had just needed to get it out. After that, though neither of us are psychology gurus, we decided that ironing out these things was probably a natural process of getting used to living with someone, and our little bickering sessions were likely even healthy. Better now than later, we reasoned. And I think we're right.
Cohabitation isn't easy. Sure, sometimes it makes me personally want to gouge my eyes out with blunt scissors. But sometimes it's really fun. I sure look forward to Hank coming home every day or seeing him when I walk in the door, and, in the end, I'm learning that the issues we have are really small and their solutions can be fairly easy. And there are always things to work out, because we're all human and we're all difficult. I'm also not sure facing the issues post-marriage would be any more peaceful. In fact, it could be traumatic to learn about the hidden habits of someone you have vowed to love and stick with no matter what. Let's face it: in a marriage, you are betting on your life that you know the person well enough to have confidence your lives will mesh well. If you haven't lived together yet, that's a lot of blind faith. If you've been cohabiting, at least you know what you're saying "I do" to.
I hope you'll be back. I will.
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